"Do you think so, Harold?
Could I be of use ?" "Of use?
Why, Mary, those poor squaws and their children need you worse than they need a God.

I know, for I've lived among 'em." "Then I will go," she said, and out of the gray cloud the sun broke and shone from the west across the great lonely plains.
Again "Black Mose" rode up the almost invisible ascent toward the Rocky Mountains.

Again he saw the mighty snow peaks loom over the faintly green swells of the plain, but this time he left nothing behind.

The aching hunger was gone out of his heart for beside him Mary sat, eager as he to see the wondrous mountain land whose trails to her were script of epic tales, and whose peaks were monuments to great dead beasts and mysterious peoples long since swept away by the ruthless march of the white men.
If she had doubts or hesitations she concealed them, for hers was a nature fitted for such sacrifice as this--and besides, each day increased her love for the singular and daring soul of Harold Excell..