Billy Louise read his thought.
"Mommie looked so peaceful, Ward. At the last, I mean. If I could have waked her up, I don't believe I'd have had the heart to do it. She never was very happy; you know that. She couldn't seem to see the happiness in little things. So many are like that. And she looked happier--at the last--than I ever saw her look before. So--I'm happier, too--since yesterday."
"Are you?" Ward dropped his face against her hair and held it there for a minute. It was not his cold altogether that had made his voice break hoarsely over those two words.
"Do you know--" Billy Louise was lifting the nuggets one after the other and letting them drop to her lap--"happiness is like gold, Ward. We've got to pan it out of life ourselves. If we try to steal it from someone else, we pay the penalty, don't you think? And so many go looking and looking for great big chunks of it all--all--whatever they do to it." She laughed a little at her ignorance of the technical process. "You see what I mean, don't you? We get a streak of gravel; that's life. And we can pan out happiness if we try--little nuggets and sometimes just colors--but it keeps us hoping and working."
"Doctor of philosophy!" Ward kissed her hair. "You're a great little girl, all right. And I'm the buckaroo that has struck a mighty rich streak of pay dirt in life, Wilhemina. I'm panning out happiness millions to the pan right now."
Billy Louise, attacked with a spasm of shyness, went abruptly back to padding the makeshift crutches and changed the subject.
"I'm going home, soon as I fix you comfy," she said.
Whereupon Ward protested most strenuously and did not look in the least like a man who has just announced himself a millionaire in happiness.
"What for?" he demanded, after he had exhausted himself to no purpose in telling her that she should not leave the cabin until he could go along.
"I want eggs--for you, you ungrateful beast. And some bread for toast. And I want to tell Phoebe and John where I am."
"You think those Injuns are going to hurt themselves worrying? I don't want any eggs and toast. I've managed all right on crackers and jerky for six weeks, so I guess I can stand it a few hours longer. Still, if you're crazy to go--" He dropped back on the pillow and turned his face away.
Billy Louise worked silently until she had made the crutches as soft on top as she could. Then she hunted for Ward's razor and shaving-cup and after one or two failures--through using too much water--she managed to make a cup of very nice lather.