es, and he grasped it
tightly as if his hold on life had been shaken. The shock of
incredulous amaze passed away, leaving him in the grip of joy and
gratitude and remorse. How vastly different was this vigil under the
stars!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was Pan who routed out the campers next morning when the first rose
of dawn flushed the clear-cut horizon line.

He had the firewood collected, and the saddle horses in for their grain
before Blinky presented himself. Wild eyed, indeed, was the cowboy.

"Pard," he whispered, huskily, dragging Pan aside some paces, "the
cyclone's busted."

"Yes?" queried Pan in both mirth and concern.

"I was pullin' on my boots when Louise pokes her head above the wagon
an' says: 'Hey, you bow-legged gurl snatcher, where's my clothes?'

"'What clothes?' I answers. An' she snaps out, 'Mine. Didn't you
fetch my clothes?'

"'Louie,' I says, 'we shore forgot them an' they burned up with all the
rest of the Yellow Mine. An' if you want to know, my dear, I'm darn
glad of it.'

"Then, Pan, she began to cuss me, an' I jumps up mad, but right
dignified an' says, 'Mrs. Somers, I'll require you to stop usin'
profanity.'

"'_Mrs. Somers_!' she whispers, her eyes poppin'. 'Are you crazy?'
An' I told her I shore wasn't crazy an' I shore was sober. An' thet my
name wasn't Moran, but Somers.

"She gave a gasp an' fell back in the wagon. An' you bet I run fer
you. Now, pard, for Gawd's sake, what'll I do?" finished Blinky with a
groan.

"Cowboy, you've done noble," replied Pan in great satisfaction.

"Wha-at!--Say, Pan, you look queer this mawnin'. Sort of shiny eyed
an' light-footed. You don't look drunk or loco. So what ails you?"

"Blink, I'm as crazy as you," responded Pan, almost hugging his friend.
"But don't worry another minute. I swear I can fix it up with Louise.
I swear I can fix _anything_."

With that, Pan strode across the dew-wet grass to the trees under which
stood Blinky's wagon. There was no sign of the girl. Pan breasted the
wagon side to look down. She was there, wide-eyed, with arms under her
head, staring at the colored leaves.

"Morning, Louie, how are you?" he began cheerfully, smiling down upon
her.

"I don't know," she replied.

"Well, you look better, that's sure."

"Pan, am I that cowboy's wife?" she queried, gravely.

"Yes," he replied, just as gravely.

"Did he force me to marry him when I was drunk?"

"No. Blink is innocent of