She was unusually silent and thoughtful as she and Reynolds walked slowly up the street toward the big house.  She longed to tell her companion what Klota had said, but she hesitated about doing so.  Would he not consider her weak and foolish?  She knew that her father would only laugh at her if she told him.  She did not wish to make herself ridiculous in their eyes, and yet she could not get her lover’s dream nor Klota’s warning out of her mind.  She thought of them that afternoon as she made preparations for the journey.  Her father had told her that they were to start early the next morning, and if she wished to go she must be ready.  She did want to go, for she enjoyed the life in the hills.  Nevertheless, she often found herself standing at the window looking out over the lake.  Why should she go if there was any risk? she asked herself.  She knew that Curly was capable of almost any degree of villainy, but was he not far away at Big Draw?  It was hardly likely that he would again venture near the Golden Crest.  But if he did, would she not have her father and Reynolds to protect her?

Hitherto she had only thought of harm to herself.  But there suddenly came into her mind the fear that something might happen to another, and she flushed as she thought who that other would be.  Had she not seen Curly’s face, and heard some of his terrible words the day of his arrest as he was being taken up the street?  It would, therefore, be upon Reynolds that he would endeavor to give vent to his rage.  Just how he would do this, she could not tell, but it would be necessary for her to be ever on guard.

A feeling of responsibility now took possession of her such as she had never known before.  She felt that the life of her lover was in her keeping, and perhaps her father’s as well.  She knew that they would not listen to any warning from her, and so she might as well keep silent.  The dream and Klota’s words might amount to nothing, yet it was well to be ready for any emergency.

Opening a drawer in her dresser, she brought forth a revolver, and held it thoughtfully in her hand for a few minutes.  As a rule she carried it with her on all her trips beyond the Golden Crest, and she had been well trained in the use of the weapon since she was a mere girl.  She was a good shot, and was very proud of her accomplishment.

“A girl should always be able to take care of herself,” her father had told her over and over again.

“In a country such as this one never knows what might happen, and it is well to be prepared.”

That evening as she sat at the piano and played while Reynolds sang, she forgot for a time her anxiety.  His presence dispelled all gloomy fears, and the sound of his voice thrilled her very being.  They were both happy, and all-sufficient to each other.