So that night they started.
At the door of the carriage stood Peter Roeder, waiting.
“I'm going t' ride down with you,” he said. The major looked nonplussed.
Kate got in and the major followed.
“Come,” she said to Roeder. He sat opposite and looked at her as if he would fasten her image on his mind.
“You remember,” he said after a time, “that I told you I used t' dream of sittin' on the veranda of th' hotel and havin' nothin' t' do?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don't think I care fur it. I've had a month of it. I'm goin' back up th' gulch.”
“No!” cried Kate, instinctively reaching out her hands toward him.
“Why not? I guess you don't know me. I knew that somewhere I'd find a friend. I found that friend; an' now I'm alone again. It's pretty quiet up thar in the gulch; but I'll try it.”