"I'm glad," she said in a low voice. "But Miller's confession made no difference in my thought of you. I didn't need that to know you." "But I couldn't come to you even then. I knew how Bob Hart felt, and after all he'd done for me it was fair he should have first chance." She looked at him, smiling shyly. "You're very generous." "No. I thought you cared for him. It seemed to me any woman must. There aren't many men like Bob." "Not many," she agreed. "But I couldn't love Bob because"--her steadfast eyes met his bravely--"because of another man. Always have loved him, ever since that night years ago when he saved my father's life. Do you really truly love me, Dave?" "God knows I do," he said, almost in a whisper. "I'm glad--oh, awf'ly glad." She gave him her hands, tears in her soft brown eyes. "Because I've been waiting for you so long. I didn't know whether you ever were coming to me." Crawford found them there ten minutes later. He was looking for Joyce to find him a collar-button that was missing. "Dawggone my hide!" he fumed, and stopped abruptly, the collar-button forgotten. Joyce flew out of Dave's arms into her father's. "Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm so happy," she whispered from the depths of his shoulder. The cattleman looked at Dave, and his rough face worked. "Boy, you're in luck. Be good to her, or I'll skin you alive." He added, by way of softening this useless threat, "I'd rather it was you than anybody on earth, Dave." The young man looked at her, his Joy-in-life, the woman who had brought him back to youth and happiness, and he answered with a surge of emotion: "I'll sure try." THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, by William MacLeod Raine