r a challenging oriflamme of scarlet, staining a rent in
the faded calico.

"You're hurt!" I blurted, aghast.

"Not much. A scratch. Don't mind it. And you?"

"I'm not touched."

"Load, sir. But I think we'll have a little space. How many left? Nine."
She had been counting. "Seven for them."

"Seven for them," I acknowledged. I tucked home the loads; the six-shooter
was ready.

"Now let them come," she murmured.

"Let them come," I echoed. We looked one upon the other, and we smiled. It
was not so bad, this place, our minds having been made up to it. In fact,
there was something sweet. Our present was assured; we faced a future
together, at least; we were in accord.

The Sioux had retired, mainly to sit dismounted in close circle, for a
confab. Occasionally a young brave, a vidette, exuberantly galloped for
us, dared us, shook hand and weapon at us, no doubt spat at us, and gained
nothing by his brag.

"What will they do next?" I asked.

"I don't know," said she. "We shall see, though."

So we lay, gazing, not speaking. The sun streamed down, flattening the
desert with his fervent beams until the uplifts cringed low and in the
horizons the mountain peaks floated languidly upon the waves of heat. And
in all this dispassionate land, from horizon to horizon, there were only
My Lady and I, and the beleaguering Sioux. It seemed unreal, a fantasy;
but the rocks began to smell scorched, a sudden thirst nagged and my
wounded arm pained with weariness as if to remind that I was here, in the
body. Yes, and here she was, also, in the flesh, as much as I, for she
stirred, glanced at me, and smiled. I heard her, saw her, felt her
presence. I placed my hand over hers.

"What is it?" she queried.

"Nothing. I wanted to make sure."

"Of yourself?"

"Of you, me--of everything."

"There can be no doubt," she said. "I wish there might, for your sake."

"No," I thickly answered. "If you were only out of it--if we could find
some way."

"I'd rather be in here, with you," said she.

"And I, with you, then," I replied honestly. The thought of water
obsessed. She must have read, for she inquired:

"Aren't you thirsty?"

"Are you?"

"Yes. Why don't we drink?"

"Should we?"

"Why not? We might as well be as comfortable as we can." She reached for
the canteen lying in a fast dwindling strip of rock shade. We drank
sparingly. She let me dribble a few drops upon her shoulder. Thenceforth
by silent agreement we mois