is stronger
than disaster--stronger than death."

Then he turned and gazed ardently into her upturned face. "Guess we
sure found that love together, little gal. An' it's ours to keep
forever an' ever. Ther' ain't no other love comin' around. I'm yours
fer jest so long as I have life, an' you--wal, you're jest my whole,
whole world."

He leant toward her, his dark eyes shining with his great love.
Reaching out he drew her toward him, his strong, protecting arm
encircling her slim waist.

"Say, little gal," he went on urgingly, "we're goin' right on now to
Leeson Butte. Ther's a passon ther' who can fix us right. An' when
that's done, an' ther' ain't nuthin' in the world can come between us,
why, then I sure got two mighty strong hands yearnin' to git busy
handin' you those things which can make a woman's life easy, an'--an'
happy. Will you come, little Joan? Will you sure come?"

His eager young face was close to hers, and his deep breath fanned her
warm cheek. She gave him no verbal reply. At that moment she had no
words. But she turned toward him. And, as she turned, her lips met his
in one long, passionate kiss. He needed no other reply. She was giving
him herself. It was the soul of the woman speaking.

Some moments later their horses were again heading for Leeson Butte.
The eyes of the girl were shining with a happiness such as she had
never known before, and Buck sat with head erect, and the light of a
great purpose in his eyes. For a while they rode thus. Then the man's
eyes twinkled with a sudden thought. For a moment he glanced at the
golden head so close beside him. Then he smiled.

"Say, little Joan," he cried, "guess you're that gal-hero after all."

Joan responded to his look.

"How?" she inquired, with a heightened color.

"Why, jest git a look at me. Me! You're goin' to marry me! I'd sure
say you've a heap more grit than any gal-hero I've heard tell of."

Joan surveyed his unkempt figure,--the torn clothing, his unshaven
face; the bandages made of her own undergarments, which he still
wore,--and the happy smile on her young face broadened.

"Well, you see, Buck, dear," she said joyously, "you can't be a proper
hero if you don't carry the scars of battle on you." She sighed
contentedly. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't need much 'grit' to marry
you."

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the