going to mourn for you. Get going!"

It was a long time before Lawler moved. And when he did re-enter the
cabin Ruth was nowhere to be seen.

Lawler paused near the center of the big room and gazed about him. The
door leading to one of the rooms that ran from the big room was open.
The other was closed. He walked to the closed door and stood before it,
his lips set in grim lines, his eyes somber.

"Ruth!" he called, lowly.

There was no answer; and again he called. This time a smothered voice
reached him, quavering, tearful:

"Please go away, Kane; I don't want to see you. I'm so upset."

"I reckon I'll go, Ruth." But still he lingered, watching the door, now
smiling faintly, understandingly. Beyond the door were the sounds of
sobbing.

Lawler folded his arms over his chest and with the fingers of one hand
caressing his chin, watched the door.

"Ruth," he said, finally; "where is your father?"

"I--I d-don't know. And I don't c-care."

Lawler started, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he looked at the
door--it seemed that he was trying to peer through it.