"Tot!" he cried.
"Yes," she panted. "Wait!"
In her hands she carried a rifle. Over one of her shoulders was a blanket-roll that contained two spare dresses and some other things. She wore dark-blue, and about her head and neck was a heavy scarf that Wolfe himself had bought and given her as a birthday present.
"Where are you going, Tot?" he asked, as she drew up before him.
She hung her head. The butt of the repeater that had been the pride of her brother Lon's heart dropped heavily to the ground. Wolfe stepped closer to her, and took one of her hands.
"Where are you going, Tot?" he repeated softly.
She looked up. "I want to go with you!" in a certain desperation, and more or less tearfully. After all, she was more child than woman.
"But——"
Tot Singleton interrupted, "You'll be lonesome away out there in the cold Northwest. You'll need me. I can do so many things for you. I can cook for you, and wash and mend your clothes and keep 'em nice for you, and—and maybe I can comfort you when the blue days come. I couldn't ever bear it back here now, knowin' that you was so far away and so much alone. I—I wa-want you to m-m-marry me and take me with you, Little Buck! I wanted to ask you when you t-t-told me good-by, but I just c-c-couldn't——"