The approach of the church he seemed to resent as a personal injury.

It represented to him that civilization from which he had fled fifteen years ago with his wife and baby girl, and when five years later he laid his wife in the lonely grave that could be seen on the shaded knoll just fronting his cabin door, the last link to his past was broken.

From all that suggested the great world beyond the run of the Prairie he shrank as one shrinks from a sudden touch upon an old wound.
"I guess I'll have to move back," he said to me gloomily.
"Why ?" I said in surprise, thinking of his grazing range, which was ample for his herd.
"This blank Sky Pilot." He never swore except when unusually moved.
"Sky Pilot ?" I inquired.
He nodded and silently pointed to the notice.
"Oh, well, he won't hurt you, will he ?" "Can't stand it," he answered savagely, "must get away." "What about Gwen ?" I ventured, for she was the light of his eyes.

"Pity to stop her studies." I was giving her weekly lessons at the old man's ranch.
"Dunno.

Ain't figgered out yet about that baby." She was still his baby.
"Guess she's all she wants for the Foothills, anyway.