If it had been he would have been sure of her death.

He hoped Jennie had not survived her second misfortune; and that intense hope had burned into belief, if not surety.

Upon his return to that locality, on the occasion of his first visit to the hut, he had found things just as they had left them, and a poor, faded piece of ribbon Jennie had used to tie around her bright hair.

No wandering outlaw or traveler had happened upon the lonely spot, which further endeared it to Duane.
A strange feature of this memory of Jennie was the freshness of it--the failure of years, toil, strife, death-dealing to dim it--to deaden the thought of what might have been.

He had a marvelous gift of visualization.