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"It won't do," said one Carson, an intelligentPlain and to the point! Now there's Judkins, he packs guns, and he can use them, and so can the daredevil boys he's hired But they've little responsibility

Can we risk having our ho and chilling of the skin of her face as the blood left it

"Carson, you and the others rent these houses?" she asked

"You ought to know, Miss Withersteen Some of them are yours"

"I know?Carson, I never incalf or a bunch of grass, let alone gold"

"Bivens, your store-keeper, sees to that"

"Look here, Carson," went on Jane, hurriedly, and now her cheeks were burning "You and Black and Willet pack your goods and rove They're far o to work for old enough to leave Utah!"

The man choked and stammered, and then, as tears welled into his eyes, he found the use of his tongue and cursed No gentle speech could ever have equaled that curse in eloquent expression of what he felt for Jane Withersteen How strangely his look and tone reminded her of Lassiter!

"No, it won't do," he said, when he had sos that you don't know, and there's not a soul as, Carson Well, then, will you let me aid you--say till better ti up "I see what it means to you, and you knohat it means to me Thank you! And if better times ever come, I'll be only too happy to work for you"

"Better times will come I trust God and have faith in e-inclosed alfalfa fields, and the last habitation, at the end of that lane of hovels, was the meanest Formerly it had been a shed; noas a ho cottonwood sheltered the sunken roof of weathered boards Like an Indian hut, it had one floor

Round about it were a few scanty rows of vegetables, such as the hand of a o-place was just outside the village limits, and the ho lived there had to carry her water froation ditch As Jane Withersteen entered the unfenced yard a child saw her, shrieked with joy, and ca This child was a little girl of four called Fay Her name suited her, for she was an elf, a sprite, a creature so fairy-like and beautiful that she seemed unearthly