"But--surely--there is something that you should tell me: Who they
are, what your danger is, what I am to do."

"I am hoping that I am mistaken," she replied. "They may not be
those whom I am dreading--and expecting. All I can tell you is
this: You are Paul Darcambal. I am Josephine, your wife. Protect
me as a wife. I will be constantly at your side. Were I alone I
would know what to expect. But--with you--they may not offer me
harm. If they do not, show no suspicion. But be watchful. Don't
let them get behind you. And be ready always--always--to use
that--if a thing so terrible must be done!" As she spoke she lay a
hand on his pistol. "And remember: I am your wife!"

"To live that belief, even in a dream, will be a joy as
unforgettable as life itself," he whispered, so low that, in
turning her head, she made as if she had not heard him.

"Come," she said. "Let us follow the coulee down to the lake. We
can watch them from among the rocks."

She gave him her hand as they began to traverse the boulder-strewn
bed of the creek. Suddenly he said:

"You will not suspect me of cowardice if I suggest that there is
not one chance in a hundred of them discovering us?"

"No," she replied, with a glance so filled with her confidence and
faith that involuntarily he held her hand closer in his own. "But
I want them to find us--if they are whom I fear. We will show