"Did you know," she asked him, whispering, "that we've won? That we're safe, after all? The rangers are probably already on the way to fight the fire, and we've nothing more to fear."
He turned to her, and they had a moment of laughter in which they rejoiced at each other's appearance. Their clothes were torn and half burned away; the man's eyebrows and lashes were singed; and their skins were smudged with soot. But the perils and the stress had left no weight upon their spirits. They were blistered, hungry, desperately fatigued, but they were gloriously happy and triumphant.
"We've won," he echoed. "A few fatalities—but not enough to count." He had engaged in much folly in his time, but it was to be said of Hugh that he wasted no emotion or maudlin words over the dead body of José in the burning brush behind. "And we can get Fargo too—on a charge of arson, at least. There will be some way to handle him. And the only thing left to talk about is you and I."
"Shep, too," she reminded him soberly.
The man glanced down into the loving brown eyes of the shepherd dog. He also was dirty and disheveled,—a shocking thing to be seen in a drawing-room but beloved past all utterance here. "Heaven forgive me, Shep, for forgetting you," the man cried, dropping to his knees. He was quite sober as he held the dog a long moment in his strong arms. His bronzed face was
