As they entered the brule, Ranald checked his colt, and holding up his hand, said, "Listen!" Through the quiet evening air, sweet and clear as a silver bell, came the long, musical note of the call that brings the cows home for the milking.

It was Bella's voice: "Ko--boss, ko--boss, ko--boss!" Far across the brule they could see her standing on a big pine stump near the bars, calling to her cows that were slowly making toward her through the fallen timber, pausing here and there to crop an especially rich mouthful, and now and then responding to her call with soft lowings.

Gently Bella chid them.

"Come, Blossom, come away now; you are very lazy.

Come, Lily; what are you waiting for?
You slow old poke!" Then again the long, musical note: "Ko--boss, ko--boss, ko--boss!" Ranald groaned aloud, "Och-hone! It will be her last glad hour," he said; "it is a hard, hard thing." "Poor child, poor child!" said Mrs.Murray; "the Lord help her.