It carried, too, sad truth of human
hearts and mystery--of promise and hope unquenchable. Surprise
Valley was only a little niche in the wide world whence blew that
burdened wind. Bess was only one of millions at the mercy of
unknown motive in nature and life. Content had come to Venters in
the valley; happiness had breathed in the slow, warm air; love as
bright as light had hovered over the walls and descended to him;
and now on the west wind came a whisper of the eternal triumph of
faith over doubt.
"How much better I am for what has come to me!" he exclaimed.
"I'll let the future take care of itself. Whatever falls, I'll be
ready."
Venters retraced his steps along the terrace back to camp, and
found Bess in the old familiar seat, waiting and watching for his
return.
"I went off by myself to think a little," he explained.
"You never looked that way before. What--what is it? Won't you
tell me?"
"Well, Bess, the fact is I've been dreaming a lot. This valley
makes a fellow dream. So I forced myself to think. We can't live
this way much longer. Soon I'll simply have to go to Cottonwoods.
We need a whole pack train of supplies. I can get--"
"Can you go safely?" she interrupted.
"Why, I'm sure of it. I'll ride through the Pass at night. I
haven't any fear that Wrangle isn't where I left him. And once on
him--Bess, just wait till you see that horse!"
"Oh, I want to see him--to ride him.
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