“That will be my glory.”

Then in the white, rapt face, in the unfathomable eyes, Venters saw Jane Withersteen in a supreme moment.  This moment was one wherein she reached up to the height for which her noble soul had ever yearned.  He, after disrupting the calm tenor of her peace, after bringing down on her head the implacable hostility of her churchmen, after teaching her a bitter lesson of life—­he was to be her salvation.  And he turned away again, this time shaken to the core of his soul.  Jane Withersteen was the incarnation of selflessness.  He experienced wonder and terror, exquisite pain and rapture.  What were all the shocks life had dealt him compared to the thought of such loyal and generous friendship?

And instantly, as if by some divine insight, he knew himself in the remaking—­tried, found wanting; but stronger, better, surer—­and he wheeled to Jane Withersteen, eager, joyous, passionate, wild, exalted.  He bent to her; he left tears and kisses on her hands.

“Jane, I—­I can’t find words—­now,” he said.  “I’m beyond words.  Only—­I understand.  And I’ll take the blacks.”

“Don’t be losin’ no more time,” cut in Lassiter.  “I ain’t certain, but I think I seen a speck up the sage-slope.  Mebbe I was mistaken.  But, anyway, we must all be movin’.  I’ve shortened the stirrups on Black Star.  Put Bess on him.”

Jane Withersteen held out her arms.

“Elizabeth Erne!” she cried, and Bess flew to her.

How inconceivably strange and beautiful it was for Venters to see Bess clasped to Jane Withersteen’s breast!

Then he leaped astride Night.

“Venters, ride straight on up the slope,” Lassiter was saying, “’an if you don’t meet any riders keep on till you’re a few miles from the village, then cut off in the sage an’ go round to the trail.  But you’ll most likely meet riders with Tull.  Jest keep right on till you’re jest out of gunshot an’ then make your cut-off into the sage.  They’ll ride after you, but it won’t be no use.  You can ride, an’ Bess can ride.  When you’re out of reach turn on round to the west, an’ hit the trail somewhere.  Save the hosses all you can, but don’t be afraid.  Black Star and Night are good for a hundred miles before sundown, if you have to push them.  You can get to Sterlin’ by night if you want.  But better make it along about to-morrow mornin’.  When you get through the notch on the Glaze trail, swing to the right.  You’ll be able to see both Glaze an’ Stone Bridge.  Keep away from them villages.  You won’t run no risk of meetin’ any of Oldrin’s rustlers from Sterlin’ on.  You’ll find water in them deep hollows north of the Notch.  There’s an old trail there, not much used, en’ it leads to Sterlin’.  That’s your trail.  An’ one thing more.  If Tull pushes you—­or keeps on persistent-like, for a few miles—­jest let the blacks out an’ lose him an’ his riders.”

“Lassiter, may we meet again!” said Venters, in a deep voice.