"So I done heard you say," said Lafe. "Bob who? What're you hugging him for?" "He's my brother." The boss's tongue clove to the roof of his mouth and he sat dumbly, looking at his wife. Mary Lou and Hetty were patting Wilkins' hand and making much of him. They did not seem to appreciate the fact that he was an outcast and a prisoner, but treated him as if they had every reason to be proud of this reunion. "So your name ain't Wilkins? It's Ferrier?" Lafe said slowly. "Yes," said the other. "Oh, Lafe, we must get him off sure." Johnson silenced her and turned his back on the deserter. Curtly he told Hetty that the escort was waiting. He ordered her to come with him and to bring Mary Lou. "Tell Bob good-by," she insisted. "So long," said the boss grudgingly. "No, that won't do. You've got to shake hands with him." Lafe glanced at her radiant face and what he was about to say never came out. He stuck out his long arm towards Wilkins, who grasped his hand eagerly. The misery of indecision had dropped from the deserter like a cloak that is shed. He laughed encouragingly over his shoulder at Hetty, as he turned to leave. "Did you expect me to holler, Johnson?" he asked. "Not much! Why, this is going home, to me." "Ready?" Osborne cried. "And when I get out, I'll be able to look you boys in the face, too. Not you, Osborne. You can't look me in the eye right now. Pshaw! What is a year in a lifetime?" "Quit your preaching. Come on." "Adios, Mary Lou. Adios, Hetty. So long, Johnson. I'll see you soon." "Guard and prisoner--'tention! Fours--left about--march!" They swung around and made northwest, Wilkins in their midst. He was making his horse prance and was humming "Dixie." Once he looked back and waved his arm in a wide gesture towards the Huachucas, towering on the left; to the right, the straggling Mules range; and the San Pedro valley between, stretching away for eighty miles. "What about this little ol' country now, hey?" he shouted. "What do you think of her, hey? How about this air? Lord!" Hetty waved at him, but Mary Lou, who had drawn out a handkerchief to do the same, wept into it instead. They started slowly homeward, Lafe ambling along in gloomy quiet. Hetty did not perceive his mood, being too uplifted over her brother's recovery to be cognizant of lesser things. She ranged beside her husband. There were tears on her cheeks, but she was smiling and humming "Dixie." "Isn't it just like heaven? Here I haven't seen him in six years. Just think of finding him like this. Oh, I never thought I could be so happy." "You bet," the boss said scathingly. "This is simply great, this is. He's gone to jail, I suppose you know? And I've got to get him out, I reckon." "You can do that all right," Hetty declared--she had a vague idea that Lafe administered the entire law of the land, the High justice and the Low--"What does the jail matter, anyhow? We've got him back." "Yes, it's all right now," Mary Lou agreed and dried her eyes.