The messenger had been sent ahead to break the news to the sad and anxious hearts.
"Budd," she said, "you have not told us about father."
"Why, yes, my dear," interposed her mother, as if to shut out all evil tidings; "nothing has happened to him."
"Wal, I'm sorry to say that he has been hurt worse than Fred," was the alarming response, accompanied by a deep sigh.
"How bad? How much worse? Tell us, tell us," insisted the wife.
"Thar's no use of denyin' that he got it bad; fact is he couldn't have been hit harder."
The distressed fellow was so worked up that he turned his head and looked over his shoulder, as if to avoid those yearning eyes fixed upon him. That aimless glance revealed the approaching horsemen and nerved him with new courage.
"Now, Mrs. Whitney and Jennie, you must be brave. Bear it as he would bear the news about you and Fred if he was—alive!"
A shriek accompanied the words of the cowman, and Jennie caught her mother in time to save her from falling. Her own heart was breaking, but she did her utmost, poor thing, to cheer the one to whom the sunlight of happiness could never come again.
"There, mother, try to bear it. We have Fred left to us, and I am with you. God will not desert us."