said, "real glad. Jim," he went on, "I guess your
luck's set in. Eve, my dear, your luck's running, too. I'm just
glad."

The culprits exchanged swift glances of astonishment. Eve blushed, but
it was Jim who answered him.

"Guess you see things easy, Peter," he said. "But you aren't as glad
as I am."

"We are," corrected Eve.

Peter bent over his work again, smiling at the friendly pan with
renewed interest. He scraped some long congealed black grease from its
shoulder and gazed at it ruefully.

"Look at that," he said, with his quaint smile, holding up the knife
with the unwholesome fat sticking to it. "Guess your pans won't get
like that, eh, Eve?" Then he added with a sigh, "It's sure time I hit
the trail. It's been accumulating too long already. Y'see," he went on
simply, "it's a good thing moving at times. Things need cleaning once
in a while."

He threw the pan into the wagon-box with a sigh of relief, and turned
again to his two friends.

"I'd ask you to sit," he began. But Jim cut him short.

"There's no need, old friend. We've just come over to say we, too, are
going to hit the trail. We're going to hit it together."

Peter nodded.

"We're going to get the parson to marry us," Jim went on eagerly, "and
then we're going to hit out for Canada--Edmonton--and start up a bit
of a one-eyed ranch."

Peter stood lost in thought, and Jim grew impatient.

"Well?" he inquired. "What do you think of it?"

The other nodded slowly, his eyes twinkling.

"Bully, but you'll need a wagon to drive you out--when you're getting
married," he said. "That's how I was thinking. Guess I'll drive you
out in mine, eh?"

"But you're going at sun-up," cried Eve, in dismay. "We--we can't get
married so soon."

"Guess I'll wait over," Peter answered easily. "It just means
off-loading--and then loading up again. My frying-pan can have another
cleaning."

"Thanks, old friend," cried Jim, linking his arm in Eve's. "You're a
great feller. You'll see us--married." He squeezed the girl's arm.
"And then?"

"And then?"

Peter looked away at the dying light. His eyes were full of the kindly
thought his two friends knew so well.

"Why, I'll just hit the trail again," he said.

"Where to?"

The big man turned his face slowly toward them, and his gentle humor
was largely written in his expressive eyes.

"Why, Canada, I guess," he said. "Edmonton--it seems to me."

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The One-