ife of a private school men
played but little part, and the men who were most worth while, almost no
part at all. Instinctively, in time, she had wearied of little girls
and their lessons. Sorely had she craved the stimulus which only the
companionship of congenial men can give. Of this fact, however, she had
been even less aware.

One crisp morning, seated in a diminutive wicker cart behind a
discontented pony, they searched out Chicken John's cabin on the mesa
behind the golf links.

"Not that it has anything to do with Indians," she apologized, "only
I want you to see him. He's such a character, so nice and untidy and
queer!"

As a result of this expedition they brought away with them what old John
designated a "plump little fry" to be served at the cosy table for two
in the sunniest window of the dining room, a luxury which Blair had
likewise confiscated in the interests of business.

And so for seven glorious days they tramped the fragrant hills, or
sailed a sea as softly blue as though fallen fresh that morning from
the cloudless heaven above. In the warmth and glow of his friendship
the starved heart of the little art teacher opened like some hot-house
flower carried suddenly into the wide outdoors. And when at last
the week drew to an end, their work, both his and hers, was still
unfinished, so that there was nothing else to do but to live on through
another fully as wonderful.

Blair himself took things much more for granted, and even when their
talk strayed farthest afield it was plain to the girl that his mind
never fully lost sight of the purpose for which he had come. His work
stood always first, while,--she blushed to own it even to herself,--she
had sometimes entirely forgotten her own.

At the end of the third week they had seen almost everything he
considered essential and at times she sensed in his manner, even when he
was least aware of it, a kind of repressed impatience. She knew what it
meant and shivered. Presently he would leave her, and life would become
again the same dull round of work. Only one spot of real importance
remained unvisited,--the cavern bower above the Bay of Moons. Of this
he had spoken frequently, and well she knew he held it the climax of his
search.

But for reasons best known to herself Miss Hastings put off from day to
day this final expedition until Blair began to chaff at the delay.

"That's really the one place I came to see!" he told her more than once.
"After