held her close, Duke listening, to
tell her what he meant to try to do. Each knew it well might be the
last moment together. "One thing and another have kept us from
marriage vows, Nan," said de Spain, beckoning at length to Morgan to
step closer that he might clearly hear. "Nothing must keep us longer.
Will you marry me?"

She looked up into his eyes. "I've promised you I would. I will
promise every time you ask me. I never _could_ have but one answer to
that, Henry--it must always be yes!"

"Then take me, Henry," he said slowly, "here and now for your wedded
husband. Will you do this, Nan?"

[Illustration: "I've promised you I would. I will promise every time you
ask me."]

Still looking into his eyes, she answered without surprise or fear:
"Henry, I do take you."

"And I, Henry, take you, Nan, here and now for my wedded wife, for
better for worse, for richer for poorer, from this day forward, until
death us do part."

They sealed their pact with a silent embrace. De Spain turned to Duke.
"You are the witness of this marriage, Duke. You will see, if an
accident happens, that anything, everything I have--some personal
property--my father's old ranch north of Medicine Bend--some little
money in bank at Sleepy Cat--goes to my wife, Nan Morgan de Spain.
Will you see to it?"

"I will. And if it comes to me--you, de Spain, will see to it that
what stock I have in the Gap goes to my niece, Nan, your wife."

She looked from one to the other of the two men. "All that I have,"
she said in turn, "the lands in the Gap, everywhere around Music
Mountain, go to you two equally together, or whichever survives. And
if you both live, and I do not, remember my last message--bury the
past in my grave."

Duke Morgan tested the cinches of the saddle on the Lady once more,
unloosed the tugs once more from the horse's shoulder, examined each
buckle of the collar and every inch of the two strips of leather, the
reinforced fastenings on the whiffletree, rolled all up again,
strapped it, and stood by the head till de Spain swung up into the
saddle. He bent down once to whisper a last word of cheer to his wife
and, without looking back, headed the Lady into the storm.

CHAPTER XXXIII

GAMBLING WITH DEATH

Beyond giving his horse a safe headway from the shelter, de Spain made
little effort to guide her. He had chosen the Lady, not because she
was fresher, for she was not, but because he believed she possessed of
the thr