She lingered a moment, smiling grimly. It was only a play for time. She knew very well that there would be timber when her father reached Simon's stall.
Lancaster was making fast progress. The log upon which he worked was dry from the heat of the hearth. It splintered like weathered pine. A section of it was soon cut away so far that a final blow with the hatchet head drove it in. It rolled to the noses of the mules. Lancaster thrust his head through the hole.
Between the scantlings that penned Simon into his part of the lean-to, the section-boss spied two glowing eyes. They watched him, then the door, then him again. "M-m-m-m!" came a deep protest, as the bull blew and pawed at the dirt floor.
The section-boss drew back nervously. "Simon's actin' funny," he said. "He's locoed, or he's smelt a mice."
He got no answer. Dallas was in the corner farthest from him, crowded against the logs. Her arms were raised. Her head rested between them.
Lancaster grunted disgustedly, and fell to chopping again. The opening in the wall was not quite wide enough up and down for his body. He enlarged it by cutting away at the lower side. Finally, satisfied with its size, he unpinned the shoulder blanket, freed his feet, and crawled through.
And now Dallas looked round, fastening her eyes upon the dark hole beyond the hearth. Beside it, the lantern burned with a sickly flame. "It's murder! It's murder! It's murder!" she breathed.
Marylyn tossed, moaning. Dallas ran to her. There she stayed, eyes and ears buried in the bed-clothes.
Within the lean-to, a curious parley was being held. Lancaster was standing, hatchet in hand, at the bar of Simon's pen. Behind him was the stable door, before him, just out of reach, the bull. Simon was not pawing now. His fore feet were spread wide, his nose touched the ground between them. He was alternately mooing and blowing, and his angry eyes were fixed, not on the section-boss, but on the bottom of the door.
"Simon, Simon," said Lancaster, in a wheedling tone. He could scarcely see the animal, for the eastern window was snowed shut. The bull made no move. Presently, the old man shoved the single bar aside and hopped forward a step or two, his gaze fixed on the star between those glowing eyes.