"What—leave this and go puttering round on a farm?" he replied. "No, boy, no. As long as I can give the call to 'roll out' in the mornings I'll stay with it. When I'm through—I'll quit here—with my men!"
The remainder of the walk to camp was made in silence.
There was a big dinner that evening that lasted long after the usual hour. And there was much talking and laughing and some singing of songs at the table. All ate together, with a place at the centre of one long table for Cherry, where she could see all the men from where she sat. On one side of her sat her father, and on the other side her husband. And when it was all over the men gave cheers, first for Cherry McBain, and then for the man who was the father of Cherry McBain, and last of all for the man who had played the game and had won the heart of Cherry McBain.
And late that evening King and Cherry took the trail again to return home. And the men gathered to cheer once more until they were gone from sight.
Then came upon them the silence of the evening and the magic of it. In the west was the dying flame of a day that had set. About them lay the woods and the grassy reaches of plain, with a deep hush upon them broken only by the occasional sleepy twitter of birds, or the lazy croaking of frogs in the hollows, or the sharp whistle of night-hawks that swept down above them on whirring wings. And from far away there came the sound of someone singing in the night.
THE END.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF CHERRY MCBAIN ***