“Ever since that night in the hay-loft when you kissed me, after your father shot Swift.  I didn’t want to love you.  There didn’t seem much romance about a boy you’d lived with all your life.  I didn’t want to marry.  I wanted to give all there was in me to some one big and fine enough to appreciate it.  And after all, it’s only you.”

“Only me!” ejaculated Douglas, comically.

Judith did not smile.  “I fought and fought against it.  But every year I saw you growing into a bigger, finer man than Lost Chief ever had known—­a lonely sort of a man, not afraid to be laughed at even when it was about a matter of religion.  I hated to see you making a fool of yourself, and yet I admired you for it.  You grew so straight and self-controlled, and Doug, you are so wonderful to look at!  Your father never dreamed of being as handsome as you.  He’s just a great animal.  But no one can look into your eyes and not see how you’ve fought to make a man of yourself.  I love you, Douglas!”

They clung to each other in the firelight, heedless of the unthinkable loneliness that hemmed them in, of the ardors of the day, of the terror of to-morrow.

“Judith!  Judith!  I cannot let you go!” breathed Douglas.

“I must go!” Judith freed herself suddenly.  “Nothing shall persuade me to go back to the commonness of marriage in Lost Chief.”

“Marriage is exactly what you make it,” declared Douglas.  “I believe we can keep it beautiful.”

“I’m afraid!” repeated Judith.  “It’s hard to do or be anything fine in Lost Chief.  You know that.  See what they did to you!  Douglas, what are you going to do about their burning up your ranch?”

Judith felt his muscles stiffen.  “I’m going to fix Scott and Charleton, once and for all,” he replied.

“Shall you rebuild the chapel?”

“Yes—­” Douglas made the affirmation then stopped, abruptly.  Rebuild the chapel?  And Judith not there?  Put up the big fight for old Fowler, and Judith never returning to Lost Chief?  Where now was all the zest for the fight?  Why the chapel, why the ranch, why the big dream for the children who were to grow up properly in the Valley?

“No!” he exclaimed suddenly.  “I shan’t rebuild the chapel!”

“Fowler was the wrong man,” Judith said.  “You must realize that now.  I wonder what they did with the poor old chap.  I don’t want any harm to come to him even if he did make you a lot of trouble.”

“It doesn’t matter,” muttered Doug.  “It’s all over for me if you are going away—­” his voice broke and he shivered violently.

Judith looked into his face with quick anxiety.  His lips were blue.  “You go chop some wood!” she ordered.  “And when you are warmed up, you creep into the blankets with Wolf Cub and sleep for four hours.  I’ll keep the fire up.  You are so tired, Doug, that the cold will get you if you aren’t careful.”

Douglas rose stiffly, and wearily began an attack on another cedar.  But he had not taken a dozen strokes when he began to sink slowly to the ground.  Judith, ran to him and helped him back to the blankets.  Then she covered him snugly, and in a moment he was asleep.