Peter set a kettle of beans on the stove and Judith prepared a pot of coffee.
"Take off your spurs, Fowler," Peter nodded genially at the preacher. "All's well that ends well. I hope that nothing more than your feelings got hurt."
To Peter's utter astonishment Mr. Fowler suddenly laughed heartily.
"My feelings, Peter," he exclaimed, "were never in better trim than they are this minute."
"Nor mine!" agreed Douglas.
"Nor mine!" added Judith.
Peter stared from one face to another. "It sort of looks," he said finally, "as if I had sweated blood for nothing."
"No, you haven't, Peter!" exclaimed Douglas. "Tragedy certainly stalked our tracks."
"Let me have the story," begged the postmaster. "Jude, after you left John and old Johnny, what happened? You evidently went plumb crazy. Begin at that point. And don't leave out anything!"
He lighted his pipe and sat down. Judith, swinging her spurred boots as she sat on the table, began obediently. She took Peter along every hour of her trip until she fell into that dreadful sleep on the south slope of Black Devil. Douglas took up his story there and when he had finished, Mr. Fowler repeated the account of his adventure.
Peter heaved a great sigh. "Some adventure! Lord! Lord! What a narrow squeak! Well, and what did our Mormon friends have to say to all these doings?"
Judith and Douglas smiled at each other. Peter, catching that smile, started forward in his chair, then
