Judith freed herself from Douglas’ arms and walked over to the window, from which one could see Black Devil Peak glowering in the morning sun.  She stood a long time, it seemed to Douglas.  He wondered what thoughts were passing in that fine head outlined against the snowy fields.  What sense of sacrifice, he thought, must a girl like Jude have, in giving up her life to a man?  Then he smiled, half grimly, half tenderly.  Judith would never be any man’s really, to know and to hold.  Her fiery charm was a thing ever to pursue, never fully to overtake.  “Forever would he love and she be fair!” He waited silently, his heart thudding heavily.  At last she turned from the window and came slowly toward him with a look in her eyes he could not pretend to read to its depths.  He only knew that there was faith in him there and a passionate affection.  What more, he was willing to trust to the future.  She came and leaned against him and he knew that at last the long struggle was ended.

They were married a few moments later, standing before the window, with Douglas’ hair a halo of gold above his steady eyes and Judith’s fine head held high.  The Reverend Mr. Fowler performed the rites with a trembling voice.  When he had finished he said to Elijah and his wife: 

“In all my long experience I have never joined together a couple with such infinite satisfaction as this.”

“That’s good,” said Mrs. Nelson, wiping her eyes, “seeing that you’re going on the wedding-journey with them!”

That afternoon, as the shadows on the plains east of the post-office grew long and blue-black, Judith, Douglas and Mr. Fowler jingled up to Peter’s door.  They slung their saddles on the buck fence, turned their horses into his corral, and went in.  Peter was standing by the stove, dressed for a cold ride.

“Judith!  You are safe!” he gasped, taking both her hands in his, his sallow face suddenly glowing.  “Where did you find her, Doug?”

“Just the other side of Black Devil Pass!”

Peter whistled, stared, then turned to the preacher.  “And where did you come from, Fowler?”

“Elijah Nelson rescued me from the west side of Lost Chief Peak.”

Judith was pulling off her mackinaw and her beaver cap.  “We’ll tell you a wonderful story if you’ll feed us, Peter.”

Peter undid the silk handkerchief from his ears.  “I was outfitting to follow Doug’s trail.  We buried poor little old Johnny this morning.”

The quick tears sprang to Judith’s eyes; but she said nothing, and Peter went on, “I got your father home on Monday.  My guess is that he is ashamed enough of himself to last the rest of his life.  That’s about the extent of my stories.  Have you any casualties to report?”

“Only poor Buster.  He lies in a snowdrift up on the other side of Black Devil.  We put in last night at Elijah Nelson’s, where we found Mr. Fowler.  Can we stay with you for a while, Peter?”