her ears caught the sound of distant cries coming from the
settlement. She turned in the direction. A lurid gleam was in the sky.
Then, as she watched, the glare grew brighter, and sparks shot up in a
great wreathing cloud of smoke. The direction was unmistakable. She knew
that Lablache's store had been fired.

"Good," she murmured, with a sigh of relief. "I guess Bill'll come right
along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or
more. Why don't he come?"

The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the
direction of it. The reflection in the sky was widespread and she knew
that the great building must be gutted, for there was no means of
putting the fire out. Then her thoughts turned to Lablache, and she
smiled as she thought of the surprise awaiting him. The sky in the
distance grew brighter. She could only see the lurid reflection; a
rising ground intervened between her and the settlement.

Suddenly against the very heart of the glare the figure of a horseman
coming towards her was silhouetted as he rode over the rising ground.
One glance sufficed the girl. That tall, thin figure was
unmistakable--her lover was hastening towards her. She turned to her
horse and unhitched the reins from the fence post.

Presently Bill came up and dismounted. He led Golden Eagle through the
gate. The greeting was an almost silent one between these two. Doubtless
their thoughts carried them beyond mere greetings. They stood for a
second.

"Shall we ride?" said Jacky, inclining her head in the direction of the
shed.

"No, we will walk. How long have they been there?"

"A quarter of an hour, I guess."

"Come along, then."

They walked down the pasture leading their two horses.

"I see no light," said Bill, looking straight ahead of him.

"It is covered--the window, I mean. What are you going to do, Bill?"

The man laughed.

"Lots--but I shall be guided by circumstances. You must remain outside,
Jacky; you can see to the horses."

"P'r'aps."

The man turned sharply.

"P'r'aps?"

"Yes, one never knows. I guess it's no use fixing things when--guided by
circumstances."

They relapsed into silence and walked steadily on. Half the distance was
covered when Jacky halted.

"Will Golden Eagle stand 'knee-haltering,' Bill?"

"Yes, why?"

"We'll 'knee-halter' 'em."

Bill stood irresolute.

"It'll be better, I guess," the girl pursued. "We'll be freer."

"All right," re