up and stood before him in a glow of
light, tall, and slim, and splendid, and there was a sparkle of beautiful
defiance and a little of triumph in her eyes as she looked down on him.

"And it will be dangerous, too? You are going to tell me that?"

"Yes, it will be dangerous."

She came to him and rumpled up his hair, and turned his face up so that she
could look into his eyes.

"Is it worse than fever, and famine, and deep swamps, and crawling
jungles?" she asked. "Are we going to encounter worse things than beasts,
and poisonous serpents, and murderous savages--even hunger and thirst,
John? For many years we dared those together--my father and I. Are these
great, big, beautiful mountains more treacherous than those Ceylon jungles
from which you ran away--even you, John? Are they more terrible to live in
than the Great African Desert? Are your bears worse than tigers, your
wolves more terrible than lions? And if, through years and years, I faced
those things with my father, do you suppose that I want to be left behind
now, and by my husband?"

So sweet and wonderful was the sound of that name as it came softly from
her lips, that in his joy he forgot the part he was playing, and drew her
close down in his arms, and in that moment all that remained of the scheme
he had built for keeping her behind crumbled in ruin about him.

Yet in a last effort he persisted.

"Old Donald wants to travel fast--very fast, Joanne. I owe a great deal to
him. Even you I owe to him--for he saved us from the 'coyote.'"

"I am going, John."

"If we went alone we would be able to return very soon."

"I am going."

"And some of the mountains--it is impossible for a woman to climb them!"

"Then I will let you carry me up them, John. You are so strong----"

He groaned hopelessly.

"Joanne, won't you stay with the Blacktons, to please me?"

"No. I don't care to please you."

Her fingers were stroking his cheek.

"John?"

"Yes."

"Father taught me to shoot, and as we get better acquainted on our
honeymoon trip I'll tell you about some of my hunting adventures. I don't
like to shoot wild things, because I love them too well. But I can shoot.
And I want a gun!"

"Great Scott!"

"Not a toy--but a real gun," she continued. "A gun like yours. And then, if
by any chance we should have trouble--with Culver Rann----"

She felt him start, and her hands pressed harder against his face.

"Now I know," she whispered. "I guessed it