With her went one man who had loved her after his selfish fashion, another who would have crawled in the dust to kiss her feet, while a third, borne rolling limply on a saddle, followed after more closely than any other.
The young cowboy from the Upper Country absent-mindedly rolled a cigarette.
“She was worth it,” he said softly to the bearded man beside him, “in spite of all!”
“Hell!” said the other, “look yonder! One square foot of his satin hide was worth her whole body! I always thought he’d get her, some time, some way. I’m going to dig up my last dollar an’ buy him from whoever owns him now.”
Bluefire stood against the cliff, watching with interested eyes this strange procession passing.
Another spring was smiling on the Deep Heart hills.
On the broad slopes, the towering slants, the conifers sang their everlasting song, tuned by the little winds from the south.
White clouds sailed the vault above leading their shadows for a little space upon the soft green country.
On the wide brown flats by Nameless the young crops were springing, vigorous and safe, and some few herds browsed peacefully on the rugged range.