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“Mar said she’d like to see the sights too onct again,” said Moses, watching with the air of an investigator the wart on his hand grow pale as he punched it with his finger, “It seemed so lonesome-like soon as Betty an’ Miss Gordon left, Mar says, says she, ‘Let’s go plum to Calgary ourselves’.” This diplomatic stroke crowned Moses’ arguments and his case was won.,

Moses adored his little foster-sister when she was well; but sick, his adoration turned to blind worship. For several days Betty had been ill. Moses’ religion, bottled up during care-free days, burst forth in foam of intercession for Betty’s return to health.,

Mrs. Bennett seemed to know exactly what to do. She took out and displayed to May Nell some of the generous gift of child’s wear sent by Mrs. Dorr from the wardrobe of the twins, placed the basket within the door, and introduced the children. Billy wondered what else might be in the basket that made it “act so heavy; it couldn’t be shoes.” He looked critically at May Nell’s small feet.,

A liberal application of shoe paste furnished the unfortunate victim with a startling pair of jet-black eyebrows, nearly an inch in depth. Appalled at what he saw, Moses drew from his pocket a grimy handkerchief. Dampening one corner of it in his mouth, the most expeditious thing to do under the circumstances, he carefully wiped around the outside of these funereal bands, reducing them slightly in size but also straightening their edges.

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As Isobel seated herself on the piano-stool in compliance with her father’s wishes, her white-flounced dress billowed up around her, reminding Moses, even in his chaotic state of mind, of the delicious creamy meringue on a lemon pie.,

CHAPTER VII.—THE LITTLE CHURCH IN THE COULEE.,

The three men lined up in front of the closed door, and one of the deputies quickly threw it open. For an instant the officers stood motionless with weapons drawn. Billy watched with fascinated eyes; the moment the door opened forgot orders, ran and crouched behind the Sheriff, peering under his uplifted arm. There in the lurid firelight that streamed through the closed window, stood the two men he had seen before, hands up, rigid, staring into pistol barrels. Floor boards were torn up; strange vessels, scales, various paraphernalia Billy could not understand, lay about them; while in a deep hole they had dug, a small, iron-bound chest was partially covered with earth. The men’s faces were smutched, streaming with perspiration, and pale with terror.,

“‘Magine huntin’ Joner in Mifsud’s woods.” Betty dimpled at the thought. “He was more like to find a coyote or stir up a bee’s nest. My! St. Elmo must of et a sight o’ berries to git so smeared.”