“Do women have to change their names when they marry?”
“I don’t know. Reckon they do, though. Why?”
“’Cause my name is Tod Winters. I know where there is a dandy little place up on the Gros Ventre where a cabin would look mighty good to me if there was some one to keep it for me—”
“Oh, say,” she interrupted, “that is a awful pretty handkerchief you’ve got around your neck.”
Just then the automobile came up frightening our horses. I heard no more, but the “awful pretty handkerchief” was missing when the hero left for the hospital. They used some lumber from a load the freighter had and walled up a grave for Olaf. They had no tools but axes and a shovel we had along. By noon Olaf was buried. Glenholdt set a slab of sandstone at the head. With his knife he had dug out these words—“Olaf. The friend of horses.”
We camped last night at Ten Trees. To-night we are at Eden Valley. The mystery of Mrs. O’Shaughnessy’s sudden change about the license is explained. She unloaded an elk at the Sanders cabin. “’Twas two I aimed to bring you, but me own family has increased by twins whilst I’ve been gone, so one ilk will have to do you.”
So now, dear friend, I am a little nearer you. In one more week I shall be home.
Sincerely, thankfully yours,
E. R. S.