As he spoke the ginger-colored broncho leaped into a gallop. Five miles away a thin column of smoke could be seen rising up into the air. Every mile made it clearer to Cameron that the smoke rising from behind the round-topped hill before him was from his ranch-buildings, and every mile intensified his anxiety. His wife was alone on the ranch at the mercy of that fiend. That was the agonizing thought that tore at his heart as his panting broncho pounded along the trail. From the top of the hill overlooking the ranch a mile away his eye swept the scene below, swiftly taking in the details. The ranch-house was in flames and burning fiercely. The stables were untouched. A horse stood tied to the corral and two figures were hurrying to and fro about the blazing building. As they neared the scene it became clear that one of the figures was that of a woman.
“Mandy!” he shouted from afar. “Mandy, thank God it's you!”
But they were too absorbed in their business of fighting the fire. They neither heard nor saw him till he flung himself off his broncho at their side.
“Oh, thank God, Mandy!” he panted, “you are safe.” He gathered her into his arms.
“Oh, Allan, I am so sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry? Why?”
“Our beautiful house!”
“House?”
“And all our beautiful things!”
“Things!” He laughed aloud. “House and things! Why, Mandy, I have YOU safe. What else matters?” Again he laughed aloud, holding her off from him at arm's length and gazing at her grimy face. “Mandy,” he said, “I believe you are improving every day in your appearance, but you never looked so stunning as this blessed minute.” Again he laughed aloud. He was white and trembling.