It took him many minutes--many painful minutes--to convince her that it was not a dream, and that in truth he was Wicker Bonner, gentleman.

Sitting with his back against a tent pole, facing the cabin through the flap, with a revolver in his trembling hand, he told her of the night's adventures, and was repaid tenfold by the gratitude which shone from her eyes and trembled in her voice.

In return she told him of her capture, of the awful experiences in the cave, and of the threats which had driven her almost to the end of endurance.
"Oh, oh, I could love you forever for this!" she cried in the fulness of her joy.

A rapturous smile flew to Bonner's eyes.
"Forever begins with this instant, Miss Gray," he said; and without any apparent reason the two shook hands.

Afterward they were to think of this trivial act and vow that it was truly the beginning.