She put her arms up round his neck. And that, following a terrible pang of dread in Neale's breast, was too much for him. The tide burst. Love had long claimed him, but its utterance had been withheld. He had been happy in her happiness. He had trained himself to spare her.

"But some day--I'll be--your wife," she whispered.

"Soon? Soon?" he returned, trembling.

The scarlet fired her temples, her brow, darkening the skin under her bright hair.

"That's for you to say."

She held up her lips, tremulous and sweet.

Neale realized the moment had come. There had never been but the one kiss between them--that of the meeting upon his return in September.

"Allie, I love you!" He spoke thickly.

"And I love you," she replied, with sweet courage.

"This news you've told--this man Durade," he went on, hoa.r.s.ely, "I'm suddenly alive--stinging--wild!... If I lost you!"

"Dear, you will never lose me--never in this world or any other," she replied, tenderly.

"My work, my hope, my life, they all get spirit now from you... Allie!

You're sweet--oh, so sweet! You're glorious!" he rang out, pa.s.sionately.

Surprise momentarily checked the rising response of her feeling.

"Neale! You've never before said--such-things!... And the way you look!"

"How do I look?" he queried, seeing the joyousness of her surprise.

Then she laughed and that was new to him--a sound low, unutterably rich and full, sweet-toned like a bell, and all resonant of youth.

"Oh, you look like Durade when he was gambling away his soul... You should see him!"

"Well, how's that?"

"So white--so terrible--so piercing!"

Neale drew her closer, slipped her arms farther up round his neck. "I'm gambling my soul away now," he said. "If I kiss you I lose it--and I must!"

"Must what?" she whispered, with all a woman's charm.

"I must kiss you!"

"Then hurry!"

So their lips met.

In the sweetness of that embrace, in the simplicity and answering pa.s.sion of her kiss, in the overwhelming sense of her gift of herself, heart and soul, he found a strength, a restraint, a n.o.bler fire that gave him peace.

Allie was to amaze Neale again before the sun set on that memorable day.

"I forgot to tell you about the gold!" she exclaimed, her face paling.

"Gold!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Neale.

"Yes. He buried it--there--under the biggest of the three trees together. Near a rock! Oh, I can see him now!"

"Him! Who? Allie, what's this wild talk?"

She pressed his hand to enjoin silence.

"Listen! Horn had gold. How much I don't know. But it must have been a great deal. He owned the caravan with which we left California. Horn grew to like me. But he hated all the rest.... That night we ended the awful ride! The wagons stalled!... The grayness of dawn--the stillness--oh, I feel them now!... That terrible Indian yell rang out. All my life I'll hear it!... Then Horn dug a hole. He buried his gold.... And he said whoever escaped could have it. He had no hope."

"Allie, you're a mine of surprises. Buried gold! What next?"

"Neale, I wonder--did the Sioux find that gold?" she asked.

"It's not likely. There certainly wasn't any hole left open around that place. I saw every inch of ground under those trees.... Allie, I'll go there to-morrow and hunt for it."

"Let me go," she implored. "Ah! I forgot! No--no!... There must be my mother's grave."

"Yes, it's there. I saw. I will mark it.... Allie, how glad I am that you can speak of her--of her past--her grave there without weakening.

You are brave! But forget... Allie, if I find that gold it'll be yours."

"No. Yours."

"But I wasn't one of the caravan. He did not give it to any outsider.

You escaped. Therefore it will belong to you."

"Dearest, I am yours."

Next day, without acquainting Slingerland or Larry with his purpose, Neale rode down the valley trail.

He expected the road to cross the old St. Vrain and Laramie Trail, but if it did cross he could not find the place. It was easy to lose bearings in these hills. Neale had to abandon the hunt for that day, and turning back, with some annoyance at his failure, he decided that it would be best to take Larry and Slingerland into his confidence.

Allie was waiting for him at the brook ford.

"Oh, it was gone!" she cried.

"Allie, I couldn't find the place. Come, ride back and let me walk beside you.... We'll have fun telling Larry and Slingerland."

"Neale, let me tell them," she begged.

"Go ahead. Make a strong story. Larry always had leanings toward gold-strikes."

And that night, after supper, when the log fire had begun to blaze, and all were comfortable before it, Allie glanced demurely at Larry and said: