and made his bed where the
canon gave entrance to the valley. But sleep was slow to come. Now, in
that vague, uncertain world where we fall through oceans of space, and the
waking is the dream, the dream the waking, Peter caught pale flashes of
Kitty's gold head as she ran and ran, ever in the pursuit of something,
she knew not what. And as she ran hither and thither, she would turn her
head and beckon to Peter, and as he followed he felt the burden of years
come upon him. And then he saw Judith's eyes, still and grave. He turned
and wakened. No, it was not Judith's eyes, but the stars above the
mountain-tops.

XII

The Round-up

The stars were still shining when Peter Hamilton looked at his watch next
morning, but he sternly fought the temptation to lie another two minutes
by remembering the day's work before him, and went in search of the horse
that he had not picketed overnight, as the beast required a full belly
after the hard night's ride he had given him. Peter had rolled out of his
blankets with a keen anticipatory relish for the day ahead. It was well,
he knew, that there was ample work of a definite nature for Peter the
cow-puncher; as for Peter the man, he was singularly at sea. Had Judith
Rodney been his desert comrade all these cheerful years for him to get his
first belated insight into the real Judith only a few little hours back?
Or was it, he wondered, her seeming unconsciousness of him, as she rode
brave and sorrowful through the night, to avert, if might be, her
brother's death--at all events, to comfort and inspirit the frightened
woman and her little children--that had freshly tinged the friendship he
had so long felt for her? Many were the questions that Peter vaguely put
to himself as he started out for his long day in the saddle; and none of
them he answered. Indeed, he could not satisfactorily explain to himself
why he should think of Judith at all in this way--Judith, whom he had known
so long, and upon whom he counted so securely--Judith, who understood
things, and was as good a comrade as a man. Surely it was a strange thing
that he should discover himself in a sentimental dream of Judith!

For it was in such dreams that Katherine Colebrooke had figured ever since
Peter could remember. For years, indeed--and Judith knew it!--he had stood,
tame and tractable, waiting for Chloe to throw her dainty lariat. But
Chloe had intimated that her graceful fi