The fall slipped into winter, which in Lost Chief country begins in September, and Christmas passed with none of the Spencers at the schoolhouse party excepting Judith, who attended with Scott. February slipped into March and Douglas' eighteenth birthday passed unnoticed. The snows were too deep to allow Charleton to undertake any of those mysterious missions for which he was so much admired, and Elijah Nelson was allowed to flourish unmolested. It was reported that the Mormon had accused Lost Chief of running some of his cattle, but he evidently had no desire to start a controversy with the valley. And Douglas came more and more under Charleton's influence.
Peter Knight, watching the boy more closely than Doug at all realized, was deeply troubled by what he felt might permanently distort Doug's ideas of life.
"How are you and Judith making it, Doug?" Peter asked him one Sunday afternoon early in April, when he and the young rider were sunning themselves in the post-office door.
"You know Judith hasn't spoken to me since last August," replied Doug impatiently.
"Too bad!" grunted Peter.
"O, I don't know," replied Douglas. "I don't see much to this marriage game anyhow. Look at the couples round here and point me out any of 'em that's been married over five years that're really in love. Just a houseful of brats and a woman to nag you."
"Dry up, Doug! You are just quoting Charleton Falkner. I've heard plenty of his empty ideas in the last twenty years. You've worked for him long enough, anyhow. Better go back to your home; or if you're through with Jude, take my offer and go East to school."
"Forget it, Peter! As soon as Fire Mesa opens up,
