The storm ceased as suddenly as it had broken, and at the outskirts of the town the man paused and sank onto a boulder with his head in his arms. Minutes passed as he sat thus, too dazed to think. He was conscious of a dull pain in his heart, and his brain felt numb and pinched as though an iron band were being drawn tighter and tighter about his skull. Gradually his mind began to function. The words of Ike Stork recurred to him: "They're floatin'. If anyone kin make 'er through, them two will." Very possibly his wife was alive--but, where? Why had she ridden after this Texan, and why was she on the river with him? Methodically, step by step, the man retraced the events of their year of married life. They had been wondrously happy together. They had often spoken of the Texan--had wondered what had become of him. They had both written to him, addressing their letters to Wolf River, but all the letters had come back stamped "Return to writer." He remembered that she had been disappointed, but so had he. Was it possible that _all_ the letters had not been returned? He remembered how eager she had been to spend their anniversary in Timber City. She had talked of it for months. And he remembered how she had urged him to buy a ranch and live at least part of the time in the West. And when he had got in touch with Colston through a real estate broker, he remembered how enthusiastic she had been over the prospect. How they had planned and planned, until she had imparted to him a goodly share of her enthusiasm. Was her love all for the West? Could it be that the Texan--? Surely, her previous experience had hardly been one that should have engendered any great love for the cattle country. He thought with a shudder of Purdy, of the flight in the night, and the subsequent trip through the bad lands. The one pleasant memory in the whole adventure had been the Texan--Tex, the devil-may-care, the irresponsible, the whimsical. And yet, withal, the capable, the masterful. He recollected vividly that there had been days of indecision--days when her love had wavered between himself and this man of the broad open spaces. Long before this adventure of the wilds Endicott had known her,--had loved her--and she had never taken him seriously.