"You're goin' back home?" she cried.
Elvine shook her head resolutely.
"How—then?"
The wife suddenly urged her horse. It came right up to Nan's with an almost spasmodic jump, driven by a vicious jab of the woman's spurred heel.
The dark eyes were lit with an angry fire as she leaned forward in the saddle. Her words came in a voice of passionate jealousy.
"You love him, so you go to him, ready to face anything—for him. Do you think I don't love him? Do you think I'm not ready to dare for him—anything? Your love gives you that right. What of mine? Does mine give me no right? Say, child, your fool conceit runs away with you. I tell you you don't know what love is. You say you love him with your whole soul. And you are content to live without him. Psha! Your soul must be a poor enough thing. I tell you life means nothing to me without him. I can't and won't live without him."
* * * * * *
The black earth sped under the horses' hoofs. The stars shone like dew on the velvet pall of night. Bud led, as he always led in the things practical which belonged to his life.
He needed no thought for guidance on that night journey. Unerring instinct served him across those wide plains. Spruce Crossing might have possessed a beacon light, so straight, so unerring was the lead he offered those behind him.
Now, perhaps, more than ever, all his great skill was put forth. For he had listened to the complete, if halting, story of the man's wife, and shared with her the conviction of treachery. For the time, at least, all consideration for the woman was thrust aside. He offered no words of blame. His concern was simply the succor of his friend.