“Here comes Jack and his wife!” exclaimed Sleepy.
They were coming from the stable. Molly’s clothes were badly torn, and her face bore evidence that she had not enjoyed her enforced stay in the hay loft, but she was unhurt, laughing just a trifle hysterically. Every one was trying to shake hands with her, but she ran to her father and dropped down beside him.
“I’m all right,” he told her. “Kinda leaky, but still on the job, Molly. Don’tcha worry. Everythin’ will be all right now.”
Molly hugged him and turned to the crowd.
“Jack says that everything is all right again. Oh, I hope it is all right, because everything has been all wrong for so long.”
She lifted her eyes and looked up at Marsh Hartwell, as if it was all meant for him. For several moments he looked down at her, as if wondering what to do. Then he walked over, reached down and held out his hand to Eph King.
“Eph,” he said, “I don’t understand it—all. But, by ——, I understand enough to offer yuh my hand—and my friendship. Will yuh take it? I ain’t goin’ to blame yuh, if yuh don’t. I’m all through blamin’ folks for doin’ things.”
King grinned weakly and held up his hand.
“I reckon we might as well be friends, Marsh. I’ve packed a lot of hate in my heart, too, but all the bad blood in me has leaked out today. I—I hope——” He turned and looked at Bill Steen. “Say, Bill, take the boys back to camp and begin’ runnin’ the sheep over Kiopo Pass. They don’t want ’em over here—and I don’t blame ’em.”
He turned to Marsh Hartwell and they shook hands gravely.