"Turn him loose," ordered the rover, in a voice which they could hardly recognise as his; then, rounding on his heel, he walked slowly out of the glade with bent head and miserable eyes.
A deep breath, almost a groan, burst from the lips of the onlookers. Jim sobbed audibly. The strain had been too much for the poor boy, now that he realised so fully all that his action had cost the man whom he loved most in the world. Bitterly he cursed himself. He would rather have seen Hawksley hanged a thousand times. Utterly miserable and sick at heart, he flung himself upon his face on the ground, his whole body shaking with the strength of his emotion.
And Loyola—what of Loyola? With a strange, glorious light shining in her splendid eyes, she watched the receding figure of the rolling-stone; there was no misery in her face, only a perfect sweetness of content. Heedless of its consequences to herself, she only thought of her lover's courage, and her spirit leaped within her in a great exultation.
To her came the cowboy, asking sadly,
"I hope you ain't none raged with me, ma'am? I were playin' the hand for you and Jack."
For answer she placed her hand in his and murmured softly:
"I understand, Broncho—and I shan't forget," with which the cowboy's troubled face cleared wonderfully.
"An' my pard, Jack, ma'm'; I knowed all the time he were right. Any other maverick would ha' weakened, but he didn't. He's all grit, is Jack. I played up the hand for all it was worth, but I knew I was beaten when he fust called me."
At this praise of the man she loved the woman fairly beamed upon him; then her eyes turned slowly upon the unconscious form of her husband.
Following her glance, Broncho growled gruffly: