“Couldn’t do it, little girl,” he said wistfully, “you know I couldn’t do it.”
“Ain’t I your mistress, Billy?” asked Tharon sternly. “Ain’t I your boss?” 238
“Sure are,” said the boy with conviction.
“Ain’t I always been a good boss to you?”
“Best in th’ world. Good as Jim Last.”
“Then,” said Tharon sharply, “it’s up to you to take my orders. I order you now––go back.”
The cowboy leaned down suddenly and kissed the hand he held.
“I’m at your shoulder, Tharon, dear,” he said with simple dignity, “like your shadow. At your foot like the dogs that never forsake th’ herds. I couldn’t go back an’ leave you––not though I died for it tonight.
“We’ll say no more about it. I don’t know where you’re goin’, but wherever it is, there I’m goin’, too, an’ on my way. You can tell me or not, just as you please, but let’s go.”
For a long time Tharon Last sat in the starlight and watched the crests of the distant mountains fringed with the silver of the moon that was rising behind them, and her throat ached with tears. All these things that hurt her, these unknown, tangled things that she knew dimly meant Life, had come to her with the advent of Kenset in Lost Valley. She wished passionately for a fleeting moment that he had never come, that the old swinging, rushing life of the ranges had never known his holding influence. Then she felt again 239 the hammering of his heart beneath her palms, and nothing mattered in all the world beside.