1: THE ROUNDUP

DARD NORDIS PAUSED beneath the low-hanging branches of a pine, sheltered for the moment from the worst of the cutting wind. The western sky was striped with color, dusky purple, gold, red almost as sultry as if this were August instead of late November. But for all their splendor the colors were as bleakly chill as the wind whipping his too—thin body through the sleazy rags of clothing.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to settle more evenly the bundle of firewood which bowed him into an old man. There came a tug at the hide thong serving him as a belt. “Dard—there’s an animal watching—over there—”

He stiffened. To Dessie, with her odd kinship for all furred creatures, every animal was a friend. She might now be speaking of a squirrel or a wolf! He looked down to the smaller, ragged figure beside him and moistened suddenly dry lips.

“Is it a big one?” he asked.

Hands, which wrappings of sackcloth made into shapeless paws, projected to measure off slightly more than a foot of air.

“’So big. I think it’s a fox—it must be cold. Could we— could we take it home?” Those eyes, which seemed to fill about a quarter of the grimy little face turned up to his, were wistful as well as filled with a too-old patience.

He shook his head. “Foxes have thick fur skins—they’re warmer than we are, honey. He probably has a home and is going there now. Think you can pull the wood all the way down to the path?”