“The wild geese—­yes.”

“Wild geese?” he repeated blankly, and then shook his head.  “How could wild geese call me?  But things happened.  I was kept away.  Sometimes I wanted to come back to you, but somehow I could never get started.  Was it ten years ago that I left?”

“Months—­months longer than years.”

“What is it?” he asked.  “I been watchin’ you, and waitin’ to find out what was different in you.  Black Bart seen something in you.  I dunno what.  Today I sort of guessed what it is.  I can feel it now.  It’s something like a pain.  It starts sort of in the stomach, Kate.  It’s like bein’ away from a place where you want to be.  Queer, ain’t it?  I ain’t far from you.  I’ve got your hands in mine, but somehow you don’t feel near.  I want to walk—­a long ways—­closer.  And the pain keeps growin’.”

His voice fell away to a murmur, and now a deadly silence lay between them, and it seemed as if lights were varying upon their faces, so swift and subtle were the changes of expression.  And they drew closer by imperceptible degrees.  So his arms, fumbling, found their away about her, drew her closer, till her head drooped back, and her face was close beneath his.

“Was it true,” he whispered, “what Buck said?”

“There’s nothing true except that we’re together.”

“But your eyes are brimful of tears!”

“The same pain you feel, Dan; the same loneliness and the hurt.”

“But it’s going now.  I feel as if I’d been riding three days without more’n enough water to moisten my tongue every hour; with the sand white hot, and my hoss staggerin’, and the sun droppin’ closer and closer till the mountains are touched with white fire.  Then I come, in the evenin’, to a valley with cool shadows beginning to slip across from the western side, and I stand in the shadow and feel the red-hot blood go smashin’, smashin’, smashin’ in my temples—­and then—­a sound of runnin’ water somewhere up the hill-side.  Runnin’, cool, fresh, sparkling water whispering over the rocks.  Ah, God, that’s what it means to me to stand here close to you, Kate!

“And it’s like standin’ up in the mornin’ on the top of a high hill and seein’ the light jump up quick in the east, and there lies all the world at my feet, mile after mile of it—­they’s a river like silver away off yonder—­and they’s range after range walkin’ off into a blue nothing.  That’s what it’s like to stand here and look down into them blue eyes of yours, Kate—­miles and miles into ’em, till I feel as if I seen your heart beneath.  And they’s the rose of the mornin’ on your cheeks, and the breath of the mornin’ stirrin’ between your lips, and the light of the risin’ sun comes flarin’ in your eyes.  And I own the world—­I own the world.’

“Two burnin’ pieces of wood, that’s you and me, and when I was away from you the fire went down to a smoulder; but now that we’re close a wind hits us, and the flames come together and rise and jump and twine together.  Two pieces of burnin’ wood, but only one flame—­d’you feel it?—­Oh, Kate, our bodies is ashes and dust, and all that’s worth while is that flame blowin’ up from us, settin’ the world on fire!”