The Branding Iron

Prosper took it, waved Wen Ho out, and, dropping into the big chair,

opened the paper. There was Joan's big handwriting, that he himself

had taught her. Before she could only sign her name.

Mister Gael, dere frend,-You have ben too good to me an it has ben too hard for you to

keep me when you were all the wile amissin her an it hurts me to

think of how it must have ben terrible hard for you all this

winter to see me where you had ben ust to seem her an me wearin

her pretty things all the wile. Now dere frend this must not be

no more. I will not stay to trouble you. You have ben awful

free-hearted. When you come back from your wanderin an tryin to

get over your bein so unhappy you will find your house quiet an

peaceful an you will not be hurt by me no more. I am not able to

say all I am feelin about your goodness an I hev not always ben

as kind to you in my thoughts an axions but that has ben my own

fault not yours. I want you to beleave this, Mister Gael. I am

goin back to Pierre's ranch to work on his land an some day I

will be hopin to see you come ridin in an I will keep on learnin

as well as I can an mebbe you will not be ashamed of me. I feel

awful bad to go but I would feel more bad to stay when it must

hurt you so. Respectably JOAN There were blistered spots above that pathetic, mistaken signature.

The poor girl had meant to sign herself "Respectfully," and somehow

that half-broke his heart.

He drank the strong coffee Wen Ho brought for him, two great cups of

it, and he ate a piece of broiled elk meat. Then he went out again and

walked rapidly down the trail. It was not yet dark; the world was in a

soft glow of rose and violet, opalescent lights. The birds were

singing in a hundred chantries. And there, through the firs, a sight

to stop his heart, Joan came walking toward him, graceful, free, a

swinging figure, bareheaded, her rags girded beautifully about her.

And up and up to him she came soundlessly over the pine needles and

through the wet snow-patches, looking at him steadfastly and tenderly,

without a smile. She came and stood before him, still without dropping

her sad, grave look.

"Mr. Gael," she said, "I hev come back. I got out yonder an'"--her

breast heaved and a sort of terror came into her eyes--"an' the world

was awful lonely. There ain't a creature out yonder to care fer me,

fer me to care fer. It seemed like as if it was all dead. I couldn't

abear it."