"

"What I have done is written in lines of gold and green on the earth.
The sky is too bright to remember my gray days," he replied, most
exultantly.

She looked at him quizzically. "You are developing new and singular
powers."

"I have a new and singular teacher."

"New?" she queried.

"New to me," he answered, and in such enigmatic way they expressed their
emotion while Lawson and Jennie chatted gayly and in clear prose behind.
Part of the time Elsie drove, and that gave Curtis an excuse to lay his
hand on her wrist when he wished her to drive slow. At the half-way
house she shuddered and made a mouth of disgust. "Let's hurry past here;
I have a bad heart when I think of those horrible men."

"They are thinning out, and this ranch has 'changed hands' as they say
on restaurant signs in Chicago. Here's our north line of fence," he
said, as they came to a big, new gate. "I hastened to build this at
once before anything happened to prevent. This keeps the stock of the
white man out, and has stopped all friction."

As they came in sight of the flag-pole, Elsie cried out: "Just think!
This is the third time I have driven up this road in this way. Twice
with you."

"I know it is wonderful. I don't intend you to go away without me."

She was ignoring every one of his suggestions now, but the flush of her
cheek and a certain softness in her eyes encouraged him to go on.

As they alighted at the door, Jennie remained to look after her bundles,
and Curtis and Elsie entered the library together. He who had waited so
eagerly for this moment turned and folded her close in his arms. "I need
you, sweetest! I'll never let you go again. Never!"

This was her moment to protest; but she was silent, with her face
against his shoulder.

Jennie bounced into the hall with a great deal of premonitory clatter
and hurried Elsie to her room to rest.

"And now you're to be my really truly sister," she said, closing the
door behind her.

"I think--George," she hesitated a little, and blushed before speaking
his name, "expects it--rather confidently."

"Then give me a good hug, you glorious thing!"

XXXVII

THE MINGLING OF THE OLD AND THE NEW

Early on the morning of the great day--before the dawn, in truth--the
Tetongs came riding in over the hills from every quarter of the earth,
bringing their finest clothing, their newest blankets, and their whitest
tepees, all lashed on long poles between which the patient poni