They moved out into the barnyard, but John was not in sight.
"I guess he's with his bees," Rose said. "He likes to sit out there and watch them when he is resting."
They peered over the fence, and their eyes took in a picture they will never forget while they live. John Dutcher sat before his bees in the bloom of the clover, his head bowed in his hands. He was crying for his lost daughter.
There came a gripping pain in the girl's throat, the hot tears rushed to her eyes, and she cried in a voice of remorseful agony:
"Father—pappa John!"
He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes dim with tears, his lips quivering.
The girl rushed through the gate, and Mason turned and walked away like a man discovered thieving from an altar.