roused after a long time by the sound of the huge key grating
in the lock. Through the opened door a figure descended, and by an
illuminating swing of the turnkey's lantern she saw that it was Bucky.
Next moment the door had closed and they were in each other's arms.
Bucky's stubborn pride, the remembrance of the riches which of a sudden
had transformed his little partner into an heiress and set a high wall
of separation between them, these were swept clean away on a great wave
of love which took Bucky off his feet and left him breathless.

"I had almost given you up," she cried joyfully.

Again he passed his hand across her face. "You've been crying, little
pardner. Were you crying on account of me?"

"On account of myself, because I was afraid I had lost you. Oh, Bucky,
isn't it too good to be true?"

The ranger smiled, remembering that he had about fourteen hours to live,
if the Megales faction triumphed. "Good! I should think it is. Bully!
I've been famished to see Curly Haid again."

"And to know that everything is going to come out all right and that we
love each other."

"That's right good hearing and most ce'tainly true on my side of it. But
how do you happen to know it so sure?" he laughed gayly.

"Why, your letter, Bucky. It was the dearest letter. I love it."

"But you weren't to read it for three hours," he pretended to reprove,
holding her at arm's length to laugh at her.

"Wasn't it three hours? It seemed ever so much longer."

"You little rogue, you didn't play fair." And to punish her he drew
her soft, supple body to him in a close embrace, and for the first time
kissed the sweet mouth that yielded itself to him.

"Tell me all about what happened to you," she bade him playfully, after
speech was again in order.

"Sure." He caught her hand to lead her to the bench and she winced
involuntarily.

"I burned it," she explained, adding, with a ripple of shy laughter:
"When I was reading your letter. It doesn't really hurt, though."

But he had to see for himself and make much over the little blister that
the flame of a match revealed to him. For they were both very much in
love, and, in consequence, bubbling over with the foolishness that is
the greatest inherited wisdom of the ages.

But though her lover had acquiesced so promptly to her demand for a
full account of his adventures since leaving her, that young man had
no intention of offering an unexpurged edition of them. It was his hope
th