oice faltering, "may--may I kiss you?"

"Of course you may."

Their lips met, and she clung to him, as his arms held her closely. It
was like a dream to him, this sudden, unexpected surrender. Perhaps
she read this in his eyes.

"Do not misunderstand," she urged softly. "I do not come to you
because of what has happened, because I am alone and helpless. If you
had stepped from the ranks that night at Dodge, I would have answered
even as I do now."

"You love me?--love me?" he repeated.

"Yes."

Even as he looked down into her upturned face, there was borne back
upon him a realization of their predicament. His eyes swept over the
surrounding desolation, the two dead bodies lying motionless in the
snow, the stiffening pony, the drear hillside which shut them in. The
sight brought him back to consciousness with a shock. Minutes might
mean much now. Dupont had disappeared over that ridge to the right, in
the direction of Black Kettle's camp. How far away that might be was
altogether guess-work, yet what would inevitably occur when the
fugitive arrived among his friends, and told his story, could be
clearly conceived. Even if the man believed Hamlin killed, he would
recall to mind the girl, and would return to assure himself as to her
fate. Knowing her helplessness, the practical impossibility of her
escape alone, a return expedition might not be hurried, yet, beyond
doubt, this isolated valley would have Indian visitors within a few
hours. And when these discovered the truth they would be hot upon a
trail where concealment was impossible. The only hope of escape, and
that far from brilliant,--as he remembered the long desert ride from
the distant cow-camp on the Cimarron,--lay in immediate departure.
Every moment of delay served to increase their peril. Even beyond the
danger of Dupont's report to Black Kettle, this snow-bound valley was
not so far away from that chief's camp as to be safe from invasion by
young warriors in search of game. All this flashed upon Hamlin's
consciousness instantly, even as his heart thrilled to her frank avowal.

"This is so strange I can hardly realize the truth," he said gravely.
"But, dear one, we must talk elsewhere, and not here. Life was never
before worth so much as it is now, and every instant we waste here may
mean capture and death. Come, there are two ponies at the mouth of the
valley."

He snatched up the blanket from the ground, and wrapped it about her i