"Yes, dear," laughed Endicott, "the deal went through. You see before you a gentleman of elegant leisure--foot-loose, and unfettered--free to roam where the gods will." "Or will not," laughed his wife, giving him a playful hug. "But, oh, Win, aren't you glad! Isn't it just grand to feel that you don't have to go to the horrible, smoky old city every morning? And don't the soft air, and the young leaves, and the green grass, and the nesting birds make you _crazy_ to get out into the big open places? To get into a saddle and just ride, and ride, and ride? Remember how the sun looked as it rose like a great ball of fire beyond the miles and miles of open bench?" Endicott grinned: "And how it beat down on us along about noon until we could fairly feel ourselves shrivel----" "And how it sank to rest behind the mountains. And the long twilight glow. And how the stars came out one by one. And the night came deliciously cool--and how good the blankets felt." The man's glance rested upon the close-cropped lawn where the grackles and robins were industriously picking up their evening meal. "You love the country out there--you must love it, to remember only the sunrises, and the sunsets, and the stars; and forget the torture of long hours in the saddle and that terrific downpour of rain that burst the reservoir and so nearly cost us our lives, and the dust storm in the bad lands, and that night of horrible thirst. Why those few days we spent in Montana, between the time of the wreck at Wolf River and our wedding at Timber City, were the most tumultuously adventurous days of our lives!" His wife's eyes were shining: "Wasn't it awful--the suspense and the excitement! And, yet, wasn't it just grand? We'll never forget it as long as we live----" Endicott smiled grimly: "We never will," he agreed, with emphasis. "A man isn't likely to forget--things like that." Alice seated herself upon the porch lounge where her husband joined her, and for several minutes they watched a robin divide a fat worm between the scrawny necked fledglings that thrust their ugly mouths above the edge of the nest in the honeysuckle vine close beside them. "It was nearly a year ago, Win," the girl breathed, softly; "our anniversary is just thirteen days away." "And you still want to spend it in Timber City?" "Indeed I do! Why it would just break my heart not to be right there in that ugly little wooden town on that day." "And you really--seriously--want to live out there?"