“I suppose so.  But where shall I sleep?”

“Here, of course.  Shorty’s goin’ to give ye his best room, an’ not a soul will disturb ye until mornin’.  Then ye must be up bright an’ early.  Yer dad wants ye at his cabin.”

“Is anything wrong?” Glen anxiously asked.

“Nuthin’, Miss.  But yer dad wants ye as soon as ye kin git thar.”

“How does he know I’m here?” and Glen looked her surprise.

“How does he know?” Samson slowly repeated.  “Wall, that’s fer you to find out.  I jist come from thar to-day, so I know that he wants ye.  What’s the use of askin’ how Jim Weston finds things out?  Why, he seems to know what a man miles off is thinkin’ about.  Ye’d almost imagine that he has a wireless outfit fixed up in his head.”

Glen and Reynolds laughed, and even the old man smiled.  He seemed to like to see them both happy, and when supper was over he told several humorous stories in his quaint, droll fashion.  For a time Glen forgot her exciting experiences of the afternoon, and Samson did not once allude to them.  At length he arose and laid his hand upon Reynolds’ shoulder.

“Come, young man, it’s time fer us to be goin’ if the lassie is to git any sleep,” he reminded.  “I know you’d like to sit here all night an’ watch.  But she’ll be as safe as in her own little nest at home.  We’ll be around early in the mornin’, remember, Miss.”

Glen held out her hand as she bade each good night.  Reynolds held her hand for a few seconds and looked lovingly into her tired eyes.  How he longed to put his arms around her to comfort her and tell her how brave and noble she was.  But no, he would not do that now, as she might resent it.  Instead, he merely bent his head, and lifting her hand touched it lightly with his lips, and hurried out of the building.  Alone in the little room that night, ere she laid herself down upon the rough cot, Glen pressed her hand to her lips and kissed the spot where her lover’s lips had rested.  Tired though she was, a sweet peace stole into her heart.  Forgotten was Curly, and she thought only of him she had rescued, and of whose love she felt assured.

Frontier Samson made no allusion to Reynolds’ presence at Big Draw.  He never even asked what had befallen him when he was lost out in the hills.  This did not seem strange to Reynolds for a while, as his mind was much filled with the stirring events of the night.  But when lying wrapped up in his blankets in his tent he thought it all over, and the silence of the prospector did seem strange.  Then he remembered that Samson had been at the cabin in the hills, and no doubt Weston had told him the whole story.

No reference was made to the matter the next day until they were well advanced on the trail.  Glen was like her former self once more after her refreshing sleep, and the color had again returned to her cheeks, She was full of spirit and animation, and laughed gaily at Samson’s quaint remarks as he rode by her side wherever the trail permitted.