Lassiter’s cool argument made Venters waver, not in determination to go, but in hope of success.

“Bess, I want you to know.  Lassiter says the trip’s almost useless now.  I’m afraid he’s right.  We’ve got about one chance in a hundred to go through.  Shall we take it?  Shall we go on?”

“We’ll go on,” replied Bess.

“That settles it, Lassiter.”

Lassiter spread wide his hands, as if to signify he could do no more, and his face clouded.

Venters felt a touch on his elbow.  Jane stood beside him with a hand on his arm.  She was smiling.  Something radiated from her, and like an electric current accelerated the motion of his blood.

“Bern, you’d be right to die rather than not take Elizabeth out of Utah—­out of this wild country.  You must do it.  You’ll show her the great world, with all its wonders.  Think how little she has seen!  Think what delight is in store for her!  You have gold, You will be free; you will make her happy.  What a glorious prospect!  I share it with you.  I’ll think of you—­dream of you—­pray for you.”

“Thank you, Jane,” replied Venters, trying to steady his voice.  “It does look bright.  Oh, if we were only across that wide, open waste of sage!”

“Bern, the trip’s as good as made.  It’ll be safe—­easy.  It’ll be a glorious ride,” she said, softly.

Venters stared.  Had Jane’s troubles made her insane?  Lassiter, too, acted queerly, all at once beginning to turn his sombrero round in hands that actually shook.

“You are a rider.  She is a rider.  This will be the ride of your lives,” added Jane, in that same soft undertone, almost as if she were musing to herself.

“Jane!” he cried.

“I give you Black Star and Night!”

“Black Star and Night!” he echoed.

“It’s done.  Lassiter, put our saddle-bags on the burros.”

Only when Lassiter moved swiftly to execute her bidding did Venters’s clogged brain grasp at literal meanings.  He leaped to catch Lassiter’s busy hands.

“No, no!  What are you doing?” he demanded, in a kind of fury.  “I won’t take her racers.  What do you think I am?  It’d be monstrous.  Lassiter! stop it, I say!...You’ve got her to save.  You’ve miles and miles to go.  Tull is trailing you.  There are rustlers in the Pass.  Give me back that saddle-bag!”

“Son—­cool down,” returned Lassiter, in a voice he might have used to a child.  But the grip with which he tore away Venters’s grasping hands was that of a giant.  “Listen—­you fool boyl Jane’s sized up the situation.  The burros’ll do for us.  Well sneak along an’ hide.  I’ll take your dogs an’ your rifle.  Why, it’s the trick.  The blacks are yours, an’ sure as I can throw a gun you’re goin’ to ride safe out of the sage.”

“Jane—­stop him—­please stop him,” gasped Venters.  “I’ve lost my strength.  I can’t do—­anything.  This is hell for me!  Can’t you see that?  I’ve ruined you—­it was through me you lost all.  You’ve only Black Star and Night left.  You love these horses.  Oh!  I know how you must love them now!  And—­you’re trying to give them to me.  To help me out of Utah!  To save the girl I love!”