I could not shake off the impression her words made upon me. "Pretty
direct, that," I said to The Pilot, as we rode away. "The declaration
may be philosophically correct, but it rings uncommonly like a challenge
to the Almighty. Throws down the gauntlet, so to speak."
But The Pilot only said, "Don't! How can you?"
Within a week her challenge was accepted, and how fiercely and how
gallantly did she struggle to make it good!
It was The Duke that brought me the news, and as he told me the story
his gay, careless self-command for once was gone. For in the gloom
of the canyon where he overtook me I could see his face gleaming out
ghastly white, and even his iron nerve could not keep the tremor from
his voice.
"I've just sent up the doctor," was his answer to my greeting. "I looked
for you last night, couldn't find you, and so rode off to the Fort."
"What's up?" I said, with fear in my heart, for no light thing moved The
Duke.
"Haven't you heard? It's Gwen," he said, and the next minute or two he
gave to Jingo, who was indulging in a series of unexpected plunges. When
Jingo was brought down, The Duke was master of himself and told his tale
with careful self-control.
Gwen, on her father's buckskin bronco, had gone with The Duke to the big
plain above the cut-bank where Joe was herding the cattle.
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