Miss Rutherford had improved her time. The disorderly locks had been
hairpinned into place. From her face all traces of the dried tears
were washed. Pit clay no longer stained the riding-skirt.

Sandwiches and coffee made their meal, but neither of them had ever
more enjoyed eating. Beulah was still ravenously hungry, though she
restrained her appetite decorously.

"I forgot to tell you that I am lost," he explained. "Unless you can
guide me out of this labyrinth of hills, we'll starve to death."

"I can take you straight to the park."

"But we're not going to the park. Everybody is out looking for you.
We are to follow Del Oro down to the flats. The trouble is that I've
lost Del Oro," he grinned.

"It is just over the hill."

After refreshments he brought up his pinto horse and helped her to the
saddle. She achieved the mount very respectably. With a confidential
little laugh she took him into the secret of her success.

"I've been practicing with dad. He has to help me up every time I go
riding."

They crossed to Del Oro in the dusk and followed the trail by the creek
in the moonlight. In the starlight night her dusky beauty set his
pulses throbbing. The sweet look of her dark-lashed eyes stirred
strange chaos in him. They talked little, for she, too, felt a
delicious emotion singing in the currents of her blood. When their shy
eyes met, it was with a queer little thrill as if they had kissed each
other.

It was late when they reached the flats. There was no sign of
Charlton's party.

"The flats run for miles each way. We might wander all night and not
find them," Beulah mentioned.

"Then we'll camp right here and look for them in the morning," decided
Roy promptly.

Together they built a camp-fire. Roy returned from picketing the horse
to find her sitting on a blanket in the dancing light of the flickering
flames. Her happy, flushed face was like the promise of a summer day
at dawn.

In that immensity of space, with night's million candles far above them
and the great hills at their backs, the walls that were between them
seemed to vanish.

Their talk was intimate and natural. It had the note of comradeship,
took for granted sympathy and understanding.

He showed her the picture of his mother. By the fire glow she studied
it intently. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"She's so lovely and so sweet--and she had to go away and leave her
little baby when she was so young. I don't