hment. She had not dreamed that this
little confidence, given in a careless moment of long weeks before, had
lingered in the man's memory. She had supposed that the fury and
savagery of his war with her father and the latter's followers had
effaced all such things as this.

And it was true that had this birthday come a few weeks before, on the
river journey and previous to their occupation of the cave, Ben would
have let it pass unnoticed. The smoldering fire in his brain would have
seared to ashes any such kindly thought as this. But when the wild
hunter leaves his leafy lair and goes to dwell, a man rather than a
beast, in a permanent abode, he has thought for other subjects than his
tribal wars and the blood-lust of his hates. The hearth, and the care
and friendship of the girl had tamed Ben to this degree, at least.

But wonders were not done. The look in the girl's eyes suddenly melted,
as the warm sun melts ice, some of the frozen bitterness of his spirit.
"It's your birthday--and I hope you have many of 'em," he went on. "No
more like this--but all of 'em happy,--as you deserve."

He walked toward her, and her eyes could not leave his. He bent soberly,
and brushed her lips with his own.

There were always worlds to talk about in the warm gleam of their fire.
When the day's work was done, and the hush of early night gathered the
land to its arms, they would sit on their fireside seats and settle all
problems, now and hereafter, to the perfect satisfaction of them both.

From Ben, Beatrice gained a certain strength of outlook as well as depth
of insight, but she gave him in return more than she received. He felt
that her influence, in his early years, would have worked wonders for
him. She straightened out his moral problems for him, taught him lessons
in simple faith; and her own childish sweetness and absolute purity
showed his whole world in a new light.

Sometimes they talked of religion and ethics, sometimes of science and
economics, and particularly they talked of what was nearest to
them,--the mysteries and works of nature. She had been a close observer
of the forest. She had received some glimpse of its secret laws that
were, when all was said and done, the basic laws of life. But for all
her love of science she was not a mere biologist. She had a full and
devout faith in Law and Judgment beyond any earthly sphere.

"No one can live in this boundless wilderness and not believe," she told
him earnestl