Epilogue

Two men, one big and dark, the other small and scrawny, hurried away from the Bighorn Mountains. But it was not easy.

Not only wind and weather, but time itself seemed to be against them.

No sooner had Dixon fallen down into a large gopher hole, requiring rescue, than Jordan stepped the wrong way and had twisted his ankle.

“Ah’m beginning to believe that Injun, Dixon,” said the smaller man.

“Now that sounds jest like you. Ya don’t know what yer sayin’. Ain’t no such thing as curses.”

Perhaps not, yet neither man could deny that a whirlwind chased them. In truth it never seemed to falter in its unfailing pursuit of them.

But perhaps all these things were the price one pays for glory and riches.

At least, in this one case, it would appear that it was so.