face, maned like a gray bear of the hills; but he smiled and
reached out his hand. "Come in, sir," he said. And now we entered.

"It seems you have brought back my girl again. I hope my welcome will be
warmer than it was at Laramie!" He looked at us, from one to the other,
the brown skin about his keen eyes wrinkling.

"I have certain things to say, General," I began. We were walking into
the hall. As soon as I might, I handed to him the confession of Gordon
Orme. He read it with shut lips.

"Part of this I knew already," he said, finally, "but not this as to
your father. You have my sympathy--and, sir, my congratulations on your
accounting for such a fiend. There, at least, justice has been served."
He hesitated before continuing.

"As to some details, I regret that my daughter has been brought into
such matters," he said, slowly. "I regret also that I have made many
other matters worse; but I am very glad that they have now been made
plain. Dr. Samuel Bond, of Wallingford, your father's friend, has
cleared up much of all this. I infer that he has advised you of the
condition of our joint business matters?"

"Our estate is in your debt General," I said, "but I can now adjust
that. We shall pay our share. After that, the lands shall be divided, or
held jointly as yourself shall say."

"Why could they not remain as they are?" He smiled at me. "Let me hope
so."

I turned to Ellen. "Please," I said, "bring me the other half of this."

I flung open my bag and spread upon the nearest table my half of the
record of our covenant, done, as it had seemed to me, long years ago.
Colonel Meriwether and I bent over the half rigid parchment. I saw that
Ellen had gone; but presently she came again, hesitating, flushing red,
and put into my hands the other half of our indenture. She carried Pete,
the little dog, under her arm, his legs projecting stiffly; and now a
wail of protest broke from Pete, squeezed too tightly in her unconscious
clasp.

I placed the pieces edge to edge upon the table. The old familiar words
looked up at me again, solemnly. Again I felt my heart choke my throat
as I read: "_I, John Cowles--I, Ellen Meriwether--take thee--take
thee--until death do us part_."

I handed her a pencil. She wrote slowly, freakishly, having her maiden
will; and it seemed to me still a week to a letter as she signed. But at
last her name stood in full--_E-l-l-e-n M-e-r-i-w-e-t-h-e-r_.

"General," I said, "this indenture wit