"Sad, perhaps, but not angry," said Ruth Tolliver. "How could I ever be really angry with Ronicky? Hasn't he given me a chance to live a clean life? Hasn't he given me this big free open West to live in? And what would I be without Ronicky? What would have happened to me in New York? Oh, no, not angry. But I've simply waked up, Caroline. I see now that Ronicky never cared particularly about me. He was simply in love with the danger of my position. As a matter of fact I don't think he ever told me in so many words that he loved me. I simply took it for granted because he did such things for me as even a man in love would not have done. After the danger and uniqueness were gone Ronicky simply lost interest."
"Don't say such things!" exclaimed Caroline.
"It's true," said Ruth steadily. "If he really wanted to come here—well, did you ever hear of anything Ronicky wanted that he didn't get?"
"Except money," suggested Bill Gregg. "Well, he even gets that, but most generally he gives it away pretty pronto."
"He'd come like a bullet from a gun if he really wanted me," said Ruth. "No, the only way I can bring Ronicky is to surround myself with new dangers, terrible dangers, make myself a lost cause again. Then Ronicky would come laughing and singing, eager as ever. Oh, I think I know him!"
"And what are you going to do?" asked Caroline.
"The only thing I can do," said the other girl. "I'm going to wait."
* * * * *
Far, far north two horsemen came at that same moment to a splitting of the trail they rode. The elder, bearded man, pointed ahead.
"That's the roundabout way," he said, "but it's sure the only safe way.
We'll travel there, Ronicky, eh?"