“Good evening, Jacky,” said the doctor.  “Yes, we were going to make a night of it, Margaret.  Your summons broke up the party, and for John’s sake—­” He checked himself, and glanced curiously at the recurrent form of the girl, who was now lounging back in her chair gazing into the stove.  “What did you want me for?”

Jacky rose abruptly from her seat and picked up her hat.

“‘Aunt’ Margaret didn’t really want you, Doc.  It was I who asked her to send for you.  I want to see uncle.”

“Ah!”

The doctor permitted himself the ejaculation.

“Good-night, you two dear people,” the girl went on, with a forced attempt at cheerfulness.  “I guess uncle’ll be home by now, so I’ll be off.”

“Yes, he left the saloon with me,” said Doctor Abbot, shaking hands and walking towards the door.  “You’ll just about catch him.”

The girl kissed the old lady and passed out.  The doctor stood for a moment on his doorstep gazing after her.

“Poor child—­poor child!” he murmured.  “Yes, she’ll find him—­I saw him home myself,” And he broke off with an expressive shrug.

CHAPTER XI

THE CAMPAIGN OPENS

The summit of a hill, however insignificant its altitude, is always an inspiring vantage point from which to survey the surrounding world.  There is a briskness of atmosphere on a hilltop which is inspiriting to the most jaded of faculties; there is a sparkling vitality in the breath of the morning air which must ever make life a joy and the world seem an inexpressible delight in which it is the acme of happiness to dwell.

The exigencies of prairie life demand the habit of early rising, and more often does the tiny human atom, which claims for its home the vast tracts of natural pasture, gaze upon the sloth of the orb of day than does that glorious sphere smile down upon a sleeping world.

Far as the eye can reach stretch the mighty wastes of waving grass—­the undulating plains of ravishing verdure.  What breadth of thought must thus be inspired in one who gazes out across the boundless expanse at the glories of a perfect sunrise?  How insignificant becomes the petty affairs of man when gazing upon the majesty of God’s handiwork.  How utterly inconceivable becomes the association of evil with such transcendently beautiful creation?  Surely no evil was intended to lurk in the shadow of so much simple splendor.

And yet does the ghastly specter of crime haunt the perfect plains, the majestic valleys, the noiseless, inspiring pine woods, the glistening, snow-capped hills.  And so it must remain as long as the battle of life continues undecided—­so long as the struggle for existence endures.