In the fall, when the whole country had turned to a great cup of gold,

purple-rimmed under the sky, Pierre went out into the hills after his

winter meat. Joan was left alone. She spent her time cleaning and

arranging the two-room cabin, and tidying up outdoors, and in

"grubbing sagebrush," a gigantic task, for the one hundred and fifty

acres of Pierre's homestead were covered for the most part by the

sturdy, spicy growth, and every bush had to be dug out and burnt to

clear the way for ploughing and planting. Joan worked with the

deliberateness and intentness of a man. She enjoyed the wholesome

drudgery. She was proud every sundown of the little clearing she had

made, and stood, tired and content, to watch the piled brush burn,

sending up aromatic smoke and curious, dull flames very high into the

still air.

She was so standing, hands folded on her rake, when, on the other side

of her conflagration, she perceived a man. He was steadily regarding

her, and when her eyes fell upon him, he smiled and stepped forward--a

tall, broad, very fair young man in a shooting coat, khaki

riding-breeches, and puttees. He had a wide brow, clear, blue eyes and

an eager, sensitive, clean-shaven mouth and chin. He held out a big

white hand.

"Mrs. Landis," he said, in a crisp voice of an accent and finish

strange to the girl "I wonder if you and your husband can put me up

for the night. I'm Frank Holliwell. I'm on a round of parish visits,

and, as my parish is about sixty miles square, my poor old pony has

gone lame. I know you are not my parishioners, though, no doubt, you

should be, but I'm going to lay claim to your hospitality, for all

that, if I may?"

Joan had moved her rake into the grasp of her left hand and had taken

the proffered palm into her other, all warm and fragrantly stained.

"You're the new sin-buster, ain't you?" she asked gravely.

The young man opened his blue and friendly eyes.

"Oh, that's what I am, eh? That's a new one to me. Yes. I suppose I

am. It's rather a fine name to go by--sin-buster," and he laughed very

low and very amusedly.

Joan looked him over and slowly smiled. "You look like you could bust

anything you'd a mind to," she said, and led the way toward the house,

her rake across her shoulder.

"Pierre," she told him when they were in the shining, clean log house,

"is off in the hills after his elk, but I can make you up a bed in the

settin'-room an' serve you a supper an' welcome."




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