An' he made
me hold a lookin'-glass for him to shave. How's thet fer a man with a
bullet-hole through him! You can't kill them Mormons, nohow."

She led them into a little sitting-room, where on a couch underneath a
window Roy Beeman lay. He was wide awake and smiling, but haggard. He
lay partly covered with a blanket. His gray shirt was open at the neck,
disclosing bandages.

"Mornin'--girls," he drawled. "Shore is good of you, now, comin' down."

Helen stood beside him, bent over him, in her earnestness, as she
greeted him. She saw a shade of pain in his eyes and his immobility
struck her, but he did not seem badly off. Bo was pale, round-eyed, and
apparently too agitated to speak. Carmichael placed chairs beside the
couch for the girls.

"Wal, what's ailin' you this nice mornin'?" asked Roy, eyes on the
cowboy.

"Huh! Would you expect me to be wearin' the smile of a fellar goin' to
be married?" retorted Carmichael.

"Shore you haven't made up with Bo yet," returned Roy.

Bo blushed rosy red, and the cowboy's face lost something of its somber
hue.

"I allow it's none of your d--darn bizness if SHE ain't made up with
me," he said.

"Las Vegas, you're a wonder with a hoss an' a rope, an' I reckon with a
gun, but when it comes to girls you shore ain't there."

"I'm no Mormon, by golly! Come, Ma Cass, let's get out of here, so they
can talk."

"Folks, I was jest a-goin' to say thet Roy's got fever an' he oughtn't
t' talk too much," said the old woman. Then she and Carmichael went into
the kitchen and closed the door.

Roy looked up at Helen with his keen eyes, more kindly piercing than
ever.

"My brother John was here. He'd just left when you come. He rode home
to tell my folks I'm not so bad hurt, an' then he's goin' to ride a
bee-line into the mountains."

Helen's eyes asked what her lips refused to utter.

"He's goin' after Dale. I sent him. I reckoned we-all sorta needed sight
of thet doggone hunter."

Roy had averted his gaze quickly to Bo.

"Don't you agree with me, lass?"

"I sure do," replied Bo, heartily.

All within Helen had been stilled for the moment of her realization; and
then came swell and beat of heart, and inconceivable chafing of a tide
at its restraint.

"Can John--fetch Dale out--when the snow's so deep?" she asked,
unsteadily.

"Shore. He's takin' two hosses up to the snow-line. Then, if necessary,
he'll go over the pass on snow-shoes. But I bet him Dale would ride out