“Dick,” said he, “I have had enough of this.”
He grew more like himself as he spoke.
“I was crushed and cowardly last night and this morning,” he continued. “For the first time in my life, my hope and judgment failed me together. You must despise me for giving up and quitting Miss Clitheroe.”
“My dear boy,” said I, “we were partners in our despair.”
“Mine is gone. I have made up my mind. I will not leave her. I will ride on with you to the South Pass. That will give the caravan a start, so that I can follow unobserved. Then I will follow, and let her know in some way that she has a friend within call. She must be saved, sooner or later, whether she will or no. Love or no love, such a woman shall not be left to will herself dead, rather than fall into the hands of a beast like Sizzum. I have no mission, you know,” and he smiled drearily; “I make one now. I cannot fight the good fight against villany and brutishness anywhere better than here. When I get into the valley, I will camp down at Jake’s. I can keep my courage up hunting grizzlys until she wants me. Perhaps I may find Biddulph there still. What do you say, old fellow? I am bound to you for the journey. Will you forgive me for leaving you?”
“You will find it hard work to leave me. I go with you and stand by you in this cause, life or death.”
“My dear friend! my brother!”
We took hands on this.
Our close friendship passed into completed brotherhood. Doubts and scruples vanished. We gave ourselves to our knight-errantry.
“We will save her, John,” said I. “She is my sister from this moment.”