The white horse walked on, and she kept her place close at the stirrup of the rider.

He would have stopped and dismounted for her a hundred times, but she made him keep his place.
"What's ahead of us, Jack?
We're the last of the gang ?" "The last of Boone's gang.

We are." "The old life over again ?" "What else ?" "Yes; what else ?" "Are you afraid, Dick ?" "Not with you for a pal.

Seven was too many; with two we can rule the range." "Partners, Dick ?" How could he tell that her voice was gone so gentle because she was seeing in her mind's eye another face than his?
He leaned toward her.
"Why not something more than partners, after a while, Jack ?" She smiled strangely up to him.
"Because of this, Dick." And fumbling at her throat, she showed him the glittering metal of the cross.
"The cross goes on, but what of you, Jack ?" A long silence fell between them.

Words died in the making.
The great weight pressing down on that slender throat was like the iron hand of a giant, but slowly, one by one, the sounds marshalled themselves: "...God knows..." It was the passing of Judgment.