“I ‘low he be light-headed. Nobody’s goin’ to git Cass whilst I’m livin’, ‘thout he’s got more’n a cabin ovah t’othah side Lone Pine. She’s right well off here, an’ here she’ll ‘bide.”

Frale turned darkly on the mother. “I reckon you’d bettah give heed to me mor’n to her,” he said, in the low drawl which boded much with him.

Cassandra, on her knees at the hearth, was arranging sticks of fat pine to light the fire. Her hands shook as she held them. This Frale saw, and his eyes gleamed. He came to her side and, kneeling also, took them from her.

“Hit’s my place to do this fer you now, Cass. F’om now on — I reckon. I’ll hang the kittle fer ye, too, an’