The leaders of the emigrants came up to Banion and his men, Wingate in advance.  Banion still sat his great black horse, coldly regarding them.

“I have kept my promise, Captain Wingate,” said he.  “I have not come until you sent for me.  Let me ask once more, do I owe you anything now?”

“No, sir, you do not,” replied the older man.

“And do you owe me anything?”

Wingate did not answer.

“Name what you like, Major Banion,” said a voice at his shoulder—­Caleb Price.

Banion turned to him slowly.

“Some things have no price, sir,” said he.  “For other things I shall ask a high price in time.  Captain Wingate, your daughter asked me to come.  If I may see her a moment, and carry back to my men the hope of her recovery, we shall all feel well repaid.”

Wingate made way with the others.  Banion rode straight through the gap, with no more than one unseeing glance at Woodhull, near whom sat Jackson, a pistol resting on his thigh.  He came to the place under a wagon where they had made a hospital cot for Molly Wingate.  It was her own father and mother who lifted her out as Will Banion sprang down, hat in hand, pale in his own terror at seeing her so pale.

“No, don’t go!” said the girl to her parents.  “Be here with us—­and God.’”

She held out her arms and he bent above her, kissing her forehead gently and shyly as a boy.

“Please get well, Molly Wingate,” said he.  “You are Molly Wingate?”

“Yes.  At the end—­I couldn’t!  I ran away, all in my wedding clothes, Will.  In the dark.  Someone shot me.  I’ve been sick, awfully sick, Will.”

“Please get well, Molly Wingate!  I’m going away again.  This time, I don’t know where.  Can’t you forget me, Molly Wingate?”

“I’m going to try, Will.  I did try.  Go on ahead, Will,” she added.  “You know what I mean.  Do what I told you.  I—­why, Will!”

“My poor lamb!” said the strong voice of her mother, who gathered her in her arms, looking over her shoulder at this man to whom her child had made no vows.  But Banion, wet eyed, was gone once more.

Jackson saw his leader out of the wagon gap, headed for a camping spot far apart.  He stumbled up to the cot where Molly lay, her silent parents still close by.

“Here, Miss Molly, gal,” said he, holding out some object in his hand.  “We both got a arrer through the shoulder, an’ mine’s a’most well a’ready.  Ain’t nothin’ in the world like a good chaw o’ tobackers to put on a arrer cut.  Do-ee, now!”

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE FAMILIES ARE COMING!

The Missourians camped proudly and coldly apart, the breach between the two factions by no means healed, but rather deepened, even if honorably so, and now well understood of all.

Most men of both parties now knew of the feud between Banion and Woodhull, and the cause underlying it.  Woman gossip did what it might.  A half dozen determined men quietly watched Woodhull.  As many continually were near Banion, although for quite a different reason.  All knew that time alone must work out the answer to this implacable quarrel, and that the friends of the two men could not possibly train up together.