Judith of the Godless Valley Part 27

wound; then with a cheerful goodnight, he went out. Douglas closed his eyes.

"You fix yourself up a bed on the floor, Judith," said Peter. "I'll keep the fire going and an eye on Douglas. To-morrow you can take your turn."

Judith answered pleadingly, "I'm not tired or sleepy, Peter. And I almost never get a chance to talk alone with you. Let me sit up with you!"

Peter's long, harsh face softened. "All right, Jude! We'll keep the old coffee-pot going and make a night of it. Then--"

He was interrupted by the sound of wordy altercation among the dogs outside. Judith c.o.c.ked a knowing ear. "Wolf Cub's in trouble! I'd better let him in, Peter. He and Sister will snarl and quarrel all night. They get along about like Dad and I do."

"It'll break Sister's heart, but go ahead. I always tell her, guests first," said Peter.

Judith opened the door a crack and whistled. There was a rush outside of many paws, and Wolf Cub's long gray muzzle appeared in the narrow orifice. There was a scramble, a yip from Wolf Cub, and he was inside, licking Judith's hand and trying to climb into Peter's lap at the same time. He was two-thirds grown now and as big as a day-old calf. Judith gazed at him with utter pride. "Isn't he a lamb, Peter? Now, you get over in the corner, Wolf, and don't let me hear a sound from you to-night!"

The great puppy looked up into her face with ears c.o.c.ked, then turned slowly and crept into the corner indicated and with a groan lay down.

Peter jerked his head in admiration.

"You are some person, Jude! Keep boiling water going. I'm going to wash that wound of Doug's every hour. This cattle country is the devil for infection."

"Oughtn't we to take him up to Mountain City?" asked Jude, in sudden anxiety. "We could get Young Jeff's auto."

"At the first sign of trouble, I will," replied Peter. "But I think I've had more experience with gunshot wounds than Doc Winston's had."

There was a renewed sound of scratching and whining at the door. Douglas opened his eyes. "Better let Prince in long enough to see that I'm all right," he said.

Peter groaned. "Another insult to Sister! However, if he and the pup won't fight--"

"I'll answer for Wolf Cub." Judith tossed a warning glance at the corner where gray ears were twitching restlessly.

Peter opened the door carefully. Sister and Prince stormed in. There was a mix-up, during which the pup did not stir from his corner and Sister was shoved out the door, snapping at Prince as she went. Prince wagged his tail at Judith and Peter, then put his forepaws on the bed and gazed anxiously at Douglas. He sniffed at the wounded shoulder, wriggled and gave a short, sharp bark.

Doug opened his eyes. "It's all right, Prince."

Prince licked Doug's cheek.

"So that's understood," said Peter, taking Prince by the collar, "and you can just step out and talk it over with gentle little Sister."

Douglas closed his eyes again. Judith sat down on the floor, her back against the bed. Peter lighted his pipe and put a fresh panful of towels on to boil, before settling himself in his homemade armchair.

"I understand Scott gave you a little blue roan that's a real bucker," he said.

"He didn't give him to me. It was pay for some work I did for him."

"Uhuh! What do you aim to do with him?"

"Keep him unbroke for the Fourth of July rodeo. And, Peter, I'm going to enter my Sioux bull for some stunts."

"Dangerous work, I'd say. What kind of stunts?"

The young girl chuckled. "You wait and see! That Sioux weighs a good two thousand pounds and he thinks he's a bear cub!"

"Bear cub! I don't know what John Spencer's thinking of!" grunted Peter.

"John doesn't think. He just feels," said Judith. There was a short silence which the girl broke by saying, "Peter, were you ever in love?"

The postmaster took his pipe from his mouth, stared at Judith's earnest eyes, put the pipe back and replied, "Yes."

"How many times?"

"How many times? Can you really be in love more than once, Judith?"

"Now, what's the use of saying that to me, Peter? I'm not a baby!"

"In many ways you are," returned Peter, serenely. "Why this interest in love? What's his name?"

"I'm not sure it's any one. But of course I think a lot about it. You aren't laughing, are you, Peter?"

"G.o.d forbid! I feel much more like crying."

Judith smiled up at him, doubtfully.

"Crying?"

"Yes; you are so young, Jude. I hate to think of your dreams going by you."

"Well, I'm not such a kid as you think I am. I'll bet I know all there is to know about love."

"My G.o.d, Judith, you don't even know the real thing when it's offered you. All you know is the rot you've seen all your life. Love!" Peter snorted derisively.

Judith gave a little s.h.i.+ver of excitement. "Well, if you know so much about love, Peter, what is it?"

"I don't know what it is, except that all of it, every aspect of it, understand, is bred right here." He tapped his forehead. "It begins in the brain, not in the body. Love is not l.u.s.t, Judith."

Judith scowled thoughtfully. Peter let the thought soak in; then he said, "And when real love comes, it takes possession of your mind and turns it into heaven and h.e.l.l."

"Is that the way it came to you, Peter?"

"Yes!"

"How many times?"

"Twice. And I wouldn't want to endure it again."

"There's a poem like that," said Judith, somewhat blus.h.i.+ngly, "Do you mind poetry? I read lots of it."

"One should at sixteen," returned the postmaster. "No, I don't mind poetry. What were you thinking of?"

Judith, still blus.h.i.+ng, gave a cautious glance at the bed and began:

"He who for love hath undergone The worst that can befall, Is happier thousandfold than he Who never loved at all.