good things, and through him I've felt as I've never felt before about
God and life, and about Walt and the baby--as though I'll see them again,
sure. I've never felt that before. It was all as if they were lost in
the hills, and no trail home, or out to where they are. Like as not God
was working in him all the time, Tim; and he failed because he counted
too much on the little he had, and made up for what he hadn't by what he
pretended."

"He can pretend to himself, or God Almighty, or that lot down there"--he
jerked a finger towards the town--"but to you, a girl, and a Pioneer--"

A flash of humour shot into her eyes at his last words, then they filled
with tears, through which the smile shone. To pretend to "a Pioneer"--
the splendid vanity and egotism of the West!

"He didn't pretend to me, Tim. People don't usually have to pretend to
like me."

"You know what I'm driving at."

"Yes, yes, I know. And whatever he is, you've said that you will save
him. I'm straight, you know that. Somehow, what I felt from his
preaching--well, everything got sort of mixed up with him, and he was--
was different. It was like the long dream of Walt and the baby, and he a
part of it. I don't know what I felt, or what I might have felt for him.
I'm a woman--I can't understand. But I know what I feel now. I never
want to see him again on earth--or in Heaven. It needn't be necessary
even in Heaven; but what happened between God and me through him stays,
Tim; and so you must help him get away safe. It's in your hands--you say
they left it to you."