Bob had stolen away, for they heard sounds
outside that warned them of the approach of Dade and Malcolm.

But it seemed they did not see Dade and Malcolm stop at one of the
kitchen windows, and certainly they did not hear the whispered
conversation that was carried on between the two.

"Shucks," said Dade; "it begins to look like Cal an' Betty's quarrel
is--"

"I reckon we won't go in," decided Malcolm; "not right now. Mebbe in
an hour, or so. Let's go down to the bunkhouse and play a little
pitch."

They were all alone now. And Love had not been blind to the stealthy
activities that had been carried on around it.

Betty turned her head and looked at Calumet. He smiled at her--it was
the smile of a man who has won a battle with something more than the
material things; it was the smile of a man who has conquered self--the
smile of the ruler who knows the weakness of the citadel he has taken
and plans its strengthening. It was the smile of the master who
realizes the potent influence of the ally who has aided in his
exaltation and who meditates reward through the simple method of
bestowing upon the ally without reservation that citadel which she has
helped to take and which, needless to say, she prizes. But it was
something more, too, that smile. It was the smile of the mere Man--the
man, repentant, humble, petitioning to the woman he has selected as his
mate.

"I reckon," he said; "that they all thought we wanted to be alone."

But the ally was not prepared for this precipitate bestowal of reward,
and as she blushed and looked down at the toe of her shoe, sticking out
from beneath the hem of her skirt, she looked little like a person who
had conducted a bitter war for the master who stood near her.

"Oh," she said; "did you hear them?"

"I reckon I heard them," he said. He went closer to her. "They're
wise--Dade an' Malcolm. Bob, too. Wiser than me. But I'm gettin'
sense, an' I'll come pretty close to bein' a man--give me time. All I
need is a boss. An' if you--"

"I reckon," said Dade, stretching himself an hour later, "that we'll
turn in. That brandin' today, an' that ridin' tonight has bushed
me--kinda."

Malcolm agreed and they stepped to the bunkhouse door.

The moonlight threw a mellow glare upon the porch of the ranchhouse
near the kitchen door. It bathed in its effulgent flood two figures,
the boss and the master, who were sitting close together--very close
together--on the porch.