,
sobbing and limp behind the canvas curtains. Pan pitied her with all
his heart, yet he was glad indeed she had broken down. It had been
easier than he had anticipated.

Then he espied Blinky coming in manifest concern.

"Pard," said Pan in his ear, "you've a pat hand. Play it for all
you're worth."

The wagons rolled down the long winding open road.

For the shortest, fullest eight hours Pan had ever experienced he
matched his wits against the wild horses that he and Gus had to drive.
It was a down grade and the wagons rolled thirty miles before Pan
picked a camp site in the mouth of a little grassy canyon where the
wild horses could be corralled. Jack rabbits, deer, coyotes ranged
away from the noisy invasion of their solitude. It was wild country.
Marco was distant forty miles up the sweeping ridges--far behind--gone
into the past.

As the wagons rolled one by one up to the camping place. Pan observed
that Blinky, the last to arrive, had a companion on the driver's seat
beside him. Pan waved a glad hand. It was Louise who waved in return.
Wind and sun had warmed the pallor out of her face.

Four days on the way to Siccane! The wild horses were no longer wild.
The travelers to the far country had become like one big family. They
all had their tasks. Even Bobby sat on his father's knee and drove the
team down the open road toward the homestead where he was to grow into
a pioneer lad.

So far Pan had carried on his pretense of aloofness from Lucy,
apparently blind to the wondering appeal in her eyes. Long ago he had
forgiven her. Yet he waited, divining surely that some day or night
when an opportune moment came, she would voice the question in her
eyes. He thought he could hold out longer than she could.

That very evening when he went to fetch water she waylaid him,
surprised him.

"Panhandle Smith, you are _killing_ me!" she said, with great eyes of
accusation.

"How so?" he asked weakly.

"You know," she retorted. "And I won't stand it longer."

"What is it you won't stand?" teased Pan.

But suddenly Lucy broke down. "Don't. Don't keep it up," she cried
desperately. "I know it was a terrible thing to do. But I told you
why.... I _couldn't_ have gone away with him--after I'd seen you."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I was mad enough to think you
might--even care for him."

"Pan, I love only you. All my life it's been only you."

"Lucy!... Tomorrow we ride into Green R