“Ah, Janet, you give me the greatest joy in the world,” he whispered. “Love––that is more than all.”
His arms drew her to his breast. Her lips went to his in consecration of that love. Their hearts beat the rapture of that love.
Over the silent peaceful mountains the moon spread its effulgent light. Over the mesa that was no more to know the fierce sound of strife. Over the town, at last free of its avaricious masters, free of the savage spirit of an outlaw time. Over the Burntwood River flowing 319 in a shimmering band to the horizon. Over the camp where centered so many men’s plans and labors. And over the lovers, chief of all, that light fell as in a silvery halo.
THE END