* * * * *
On the night of his return he sat among his romping babes, debating
whether he should tell the story to his wife or not. As the little ones
grew weary the noise of the autumn wind--the lonely, woful, moaning
prairie wind--came to his ears, and he shuddered. His wife observed it.
"What is it, Joe? Did you get a chill?"
"Oh no. The wind sounds a little lonesome to-night, that's all." But he
took his little girl into his arms and held her close.