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Mrs. Brandt had always an encouraging word for the hunter.

“Greasewood’s bad fer huntin’. Joel says it don’t pay to look fer quail in the brush when he does fetch ’em down.”

“Like enough. I dunno, ma’am. Reckon I’ve had a good many shots at the little wild critters, but they allus turn their heads so kind o’ innocent like. A man as has been blowed up oncet hisself ain’t much at separatin’ fam’lies. But I s’pose it ain’t the shootin’ that’s healthy, mebbe.”

And so the hunting came to an end without bloodshed. Whether the doctors were right, or whether it was the mingled resin and honey of the sage and chaparral, no one cared to ask. Certain it is that the “pesterin’ cough” yielded a little, and the bent form grew a trifle more erect.

“I think likely it’s the lookin’ up, ma’am. Mountains seem to straighten a fellow some way. ‘Pears to me somebody writ oncet uv liftin’ his eyes to the hills fer help. Mebbe not, though. I ain’t much at recollectin’ verses. Loisy’s a powerful hand that way.”

Perhaps the man was right. It was the looking up.

He followed Joel from the table one morning, stopping outside, his face full of patient eagerness.

“I’m gittin’ right smart o’ strength, neighbor. Ef there’s odd jobs you could gi’ me; I’d be slow, mebbe, but seems like ‘most anything ‘ud be better ‘n settin’ ’round.”

Joel scratched his head reflectively. The big, brawny-handed fellow felt no disposition to smile at his weak brother.

“Fox and I wuz sayin’ yesterday we’d like to put another man on the ditch; it’ll be easy work fer a week, till we strike rock again. Then there’s the greasewood. It’s always on hand. You might take it slow, grubbin’ when you wuz able. I guess we’ll find you jobs enough, man.”

The scarred, colorless face brightened.

“Thank ye, neighbor. Ef you’ll be so kind, there’s another little matter. I’ll have a trifle over when I’ve paid your woman fer her trouble. I wuz thinkin’ like enough you’d let me run up a shanty on yer place here. Loisy wouldn’t mind about style–just a roof to bring ’em to. It’s fer her and the boy, you know,” watching Joel’s face eagerly.

“Yes, yes, Brice; we’ll make it all right. Just take things kind o’ easy. I’ll be goin’ in with wood next week, and I’ll fetch you out a load o’ lumber. We’ll make a day of it after ‘while, and put up your house in a jiffy.”

And so Brice went to work on the ditch, gently at first, spared from the heaviest work by strong arms and rough kindliness. And so, ere long, another rude dwelling went up on the mesa, the blue smoke from its fireside curling slowly toward the pine-plumed mountain-tops.

The building fund, scanty enough at best, was unexpectedly swelled by a sudden and obstinate attack of forgetfulness which seized good Mrs. Brandt.

“No, Brice, you haven’t made me a spark o’ trouble, not a spark. I’m sure you’ve paid your way twice over bringin’ in wood, and grindin’ coffee, an’ the like. Many a man’d asked wages for the half you’ve done, so I’m gettin’ off easy to call it square.” And the good lady stood her ground unflinchingly.

“You’ve been powerful good to me, ma’am. We’ll be watchin’ our chance to make it up to you,–Loisy an’ me. I’ll be sendin’ fer Loisy d’reckly now.”

“Yes, yes, man, and there’ll be bits o’ furniture and things to get. Spread your money thin, and Mrs. Fox and me’ll come in and put you to rights when you’re lookin’ for her.”

He brought the money to Joel at last, a motley collection of gold and silver pieces.

“Ef ye’ll be so kind as to send it to ‘er, neighbor,–Mrs. Loisy Brice, Plattsville, Indianny. I’ve writ the letter tellin’ her how to come. There’s enough fer the ticket and a trifle to spare. The boy’s a master hand at scuffin’ out shoes an’ things. You’ll not make any mistake sendin’ it, will you?”