His farm had gone to weed, his cattle had strayed or been rustled, his house weathered till it wouldn't keep out rain nor wind.

An' Frank set on the porch and whittled sticks, an' day by day wasted away.

There was times when he ranted about like a crazy man, but mostly he was always sittin' an' starin' with eyes that made a man curse.

I figured Frank had a secret fear that I needed to know.

An' when I told him I'd trailed Milly for near three years an' had got trace of her, an' saw where she'd had her baby, I thought he would drop dead at my feet.