“Jennie, you saved my life,” said Duane.
“I don't know. Maybe. I did all I knew how to do,” she replied. “You saved mine—more than my life.”
Their eyes met in a long gaze, and then their hands in a close clasp.
“Jennie, we're going to get away,” he said, with gladness. “I'll be well in a few days. You don't know how strong I am. We'll hide by day and travel by night. I can get you across the river.”
“And then?” she asked.
“We'll find some honest rancher.”
“And then?” she persisted.
“Why,” he began, slowly, “that's as far as my thoughts ever got. It was pretty hard, I tell you, to assure myself of so much. It means your safety. You'll tell your story. You'll be sent to some village or town and taken care of until a relative or friend is notified.”
“And you?” she inquired, in a strange voice.
Duane kept silence.