Once in a while a head was turned over shoulder toward a bowed form which sat close under a sheltering tree upon the lawn.
"He is taking it mighty hard," said this or that neighbor.

"Lost nigh about everything he had in the world." But still his bowed form, stern in its sentinelship, guarded the something concealed behind the shadows.

And still they dared not go closer.
So, while Dunwody was taking that which had come to him, as human beings must, the gray of the dawn crawled up, up over the eastern edge of this little Ozark Valley.

After a time the day would come again, would look with franker eyes upon this scene of horror.

As the light grew stronger, though yet cold and gray, Dunwody, sighing, raised his head from his hands and turned.