Johnny found Molly sitting on the steps of the trader’s house when he arrived at the Agency. Her face was proof enough of the worry and excitement she had undergone. The boy’s heart sank as he realized that he had to hurt her still more by the news he carried. Delay the telling as long as he might, the truth had to be faced.

Johnny might have spared himself this misery, for Molly knew more than he suspected, and explanations, which Johnny dreaded, were to be spared him.

She ran toward him, arms outstretched, as he jumped down from his horse. “Oh, Johnny,” she said sadly, “it’s been a terrible day. I think I’ll break down completely if you don’t get me home at once. I was on the ridge with Mr. Ames when you walked into Thunder Bird’s camp. I wasn’t afraid for you. The chief had told me so many things this day that I knew he was your friend. What did they do with Gallup?”

“They arrested him for the Traynor murder. Aaron shot Gale this mornin’, and Toby confessed before he died.”

“It didn’t need that, though, from what I’ve been told, to convict him. You proved your case against him. What a beast he has been. And—him—what have they done with him?”

Although he suspected she referred to Kent, Johnny stared blankly at Molly.

“I—I mean Kent,” she went on. “He was with Gallup this morning.”

“Why—er—he’s pretty bad off, I—er——”

“Is he dead, Johnny? Tell me the truth.”

Johnny nodded his head slowly. “Yes,” he muttered, “he’s dead. He tried to kill me. Tony got him.”

Molly bit her lip in a vain effort to keep the tears back.

“I didn’t want you to know about your father, Molly,” the boy mumbled.

“No, Johnny,” Molly told him frankly. “There’s no need for you to fool me longer. Thunder Bird told me. Crosbie Traynor was my father. No wonder that I felt the call within me when I received his note.”

Johnny caught her as a sob broke from her lips. “Oh, Johnny,” she cried. “Take me into your arms and pet me. I haven’t any one but you now!”

“I’ll git you away from here, Molly,” the boy told her. “We’re goin’ to git married. You take some clothes and we’ll go down to California for two or three months. Kelsey and Hobe will look after things; and Tony, too, if you’ll let him. He’s blackened his good name and made you hate him to help me. Don’t worry about tomorrow. They’ll keep on comin’ just as regular as if nothin’ had ever happened. Time fixes up these hurts.”

It was even as Johnny said. Three months later, basking in the sunshine of old Santa Cruz, Molly and Johnny agreed that happiness was just beginning for them.

They had tried to keep their romance a secret, but the San Francisco newspapers found them out. Although the young couple acted sedately around the hotel, they realized, as brides and grooms always do, that people knew they were honeymooners.

Johnny was sitting alone on the beach one evening, watching the silver-tipped waves breaking over the wide sands of Monterey Bay, when Molly stole up behind him and slipped her arms about his neck. He caught her and held her until she paid a proper forfeit with her lips.

“Nice people do not kiss in public,” Molly said, teasingly.

“Well, you knew my past before you married me,” Johnny retorted with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, did I—there!” And Molly kissed him again. “I’ve just received a wonderful letter from Jim Kelsey. It’s full of good things about you. Jim says he’s sorry he advised you to move out of the county. Folks want to elect you to something or other.”

Johnny held up his hands in mock horror.

“No, sir, never again!” he declared. “I’ve got the job I was after. Nevada will have to look out for herself.”