Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-11-29
CHAPTER XXXII.

y~ HE WlOe valley Wdb DToWu,
 with green splots and trac- k@Sl ings for slough and stream. lSe.sNl The distant ranges were gray. The sky showed the misty blue of the dog days. Far off to the north and west black streaks edged the hori' zon. where smoke rolled up from prai Tie fires.
 Brannon was quiet to the point of lethargy. Guard was mounted and daily dress parade held tremendously. The trumpet blew it's unvarying round of commands. There was no hunting and no field duty beyond the scouting of the eastern shore. The hoarse sa- lute of an upward plying steamer rous- ed the garrison to life one morning. but the Interruption lasted barely half an hour Then the steamer, her pilot house screened by sheet iron and her decks a-swarm with infantry, rounded a bend in the river and went coughing away out of sight Once again inter- est centered at the site of the pony cor ral, where a platform was slowly building.
 L,Ss at the shack was even less eveate<l For Dallas 1t was a season of idsness. Tha pumpkins and the melons were swelling. The tasseled corn wanted weeks before 1t would rtpen. The field and garden were free of weeds. Witt, no work to do, alone except for her sister, the elder girl had ample time to worry.
 Marylyn saw that she was dispirited and increased in tenderness toward her, following her about with eyes that entreated yet were not sad. At breakfast she spitted the choicest cuts for Dallas. In the noon heat she was at her elbow with a dipper of ginger beer; at supper coaxed the elder girls failing appetite by offerings of tasty stew, white flour dumplings and pone. As for herself, Marylyn needed neither urging nor tidbits. She ate heartily. Her sleep was rest for both body and mind. Every afternoon she stroll ed across the bend to the cottonwoods. The butterflies fared beside her. Over head between sun and earth hung le- gions of grasshoppers like haze. Underfoot bluebell and sunfower nod ded. And the grove was a place for dreams.
 And Dallas-was a wild thing that cannot tell of its wound.
 She uttered no complaint even to Simon. The outburst that followed Lounsbury's return was her first and last She questioned now if her suf- fering justified lament. In this she resembled her mother. A woman con- ing to the section house one torrid day remarked wonderingly that Mrs. Lan- caster gave mary a whimper." The latter looked up with smile. q don't think I'm sick enough" she said. "Oth- CT people worse off have right to groan." Dallas. certain that Mary lyn's heartache was the keener, would not be behindhand in restraint, and her sisters happiness. forethought and desire to please all drove the thrust of penitence to the hilt and turned the knife in that secret wound.
 She found no solace in Marylyn's friends of the calico covers. Her thoughts were too tempestuous for that. They were like milling cattle. Around and around they tore, mingling and warning. but stilling in the end to fol low the only course-self denial. Once 90 rebellious, she was growing meek at last-meek and full of contrition. She was coming to dwell more, too, on the lessons that the evangelist had taught her. She was coming to think of lean- ing where David Bond had leaned