He came to her, drove his scorched boots deep as he could into the mud and sat looking up the valley toward the emigrant train.

An additional curtain of smoke showed that the men there now were setting out back fires of their own.
He heard her voice at last: "It is the second time you have saved me--saved my life, I think.

Why did you come ?" He turned to her as she sat in the edge of the wallow, her face streaked with smoke, her garments half burned off her limbs.

She now saw his hands, which he was thrusting out on the mud to cool them, and sympathy was in her gaze also.
"I don't know why I came," said he.

"Didn't you signal for me?
Jackson told me you could." "No, I had no hope.