"Yes."
"I've a mind to bribe Mike into taking us up to Bismarck after breakfast!"
"You're too sick." Her face was grave, her eyes watched him anxiously. "All night I thought about you: How I went running off when I heard that shot. Oh, suppose, suppose——"
"I'll be over this in a day. And I know you went because you had to. Don't I know you weren't afraid? Don't I know why you left Marylyn behind at the trees? Dallas—you're a wife for a man out here!"
She coloured under his praise.
"There'll be other things coming up to fight," he went on. "That's the beauty of this West—it keeps you busy. But we'll be together to make the fight. I don't ask anything more."
After a time, they walked to the top of the steps.
Across the river, at the centre of the yellow bend, it stood—the squat shack.
"Dear little home!" she said.
"You wouldn't like to leave it. You can go to Bismarck, you know, or East, or anywhere."