One night a man was shot dead among the sage-bushes of Main Street. Six hours later Wilmot came in on a horse covered with lather. There was a stern, but not unhappy, look in his eyes. "Well?" she asked. "He showed fight," said Wilmot; "and we had to pot him." "Did you--" "Would you care? We shook hands on keeping all details secret. I think the town of Allen will be run orderly in the future. And by the way, have I such a thing as a clean shirt?" "You will have," said Barbara, "when the things dry." "Barbara!" "Yes, it had to come to it. There are only two women in town, and the other isn't fit to wash your shirts, dear." "Let me see your hands." He examined them critically, then kissed them uncritically. "They don't look like a washer-woman's hands yet," he said. "No," she said, "not yet. But please say they look less and less like a sculptor's." [Illustration: "You will," said Barbara, "when the things dry"] "Barbara," he said, "they look more and more like a dear's. But tell me, aren't you getting bored with it--missing New York things and all and all?" "No," she said stoutly, "I'm not. I'm useful here in some ways. And I was about as useful there as--as all the other people. I'm not even worried about the mines." "Neither am I. But development's a great deal slower than I thought. We've still plenty of money. And the moment we begin to ship ore, we'll have plenty of credit which is just as useful. No! I'm not worried. We're going to be rich, and we're going to live in a palace." "And then what?" "That _is_ worrying me. What do people do when the striving's over, and the sixteen hours a day hard work? What _do_ they do? Oh, Barbs, we know lots of such people, and we must find out exactly what they do, and--do something else. Living as we are living has its drawbacks; but it's not a place to hurry over." "It's a good way to live," said Barbara. "If you've got sense enough to know that it's good while it's going on. People who speak of the good old days, or who are always looking forward to better days, are usually unhappy. All the time I've been washing your clothes and mine this morning I kept saying, 'Now this is really _good_--this is really worth while,' and once when I got the better of an ink-spot, my heart began to beat as if I'd just finished some immortal work."