on the ground. She wished he would say something simple and
natural and break the intolerable silence. Finally, she felt that she
could endure it no longer, and putting her hand to her forehead, pushed
back her hair and heaved a deep sigh. He instantly moved to her all
brooding, possessive inquiry. She became alarmed lest he meant to kiss
her again and edged away from him, exclaiming hastily:

"Shall we go back? We've been a long time away."

Without speech he slid his hand into the crook of her arm and they
began to retrace their steps. She could feel his heart beating and the
warm, sinewy grasp of his fingers clasped about hers. The plain was a
silver floor for their feet, in the starless sky the great orb soared.
The girl's embarrassment left her and she felt herself peacefully
settling into a contented acquiescence. She looked up at him, a tall
shape, black between her and the moon. Her glance called his and he
gazed down into her eyes, a faint smile on his lips. His arm was
strong, the way was strangely beautiful, and in the white light and the
stillness, romance walked with them.

There was no talk between them till they reached the horses. In the
darkness of the cleft, hidden from the searching radiance, he drew her
to him, pressing her head with a trembling hand against his heart. She
endured it patiently but was glad when he let her go and she was in the
saddle, a place where she felt more at home than in a man's arms with
her face crushed against his shirt, turning to avoid its rough texture
and uncomfortably conscious of the hardness of his lean breast. She
decided not to speak to him again, for she was afraid he might break
forth into those protestations of love that so embarrassed her.

At the camp Daddy John was up, sitting by the fire, waiting for them.
Of this, too, she was glad. Good-bys between lovers, even if only to
be separated by a night, were apt to contain more of that distressful
talk. She called a quick "Good night" to him, and then dove into her
tent and sat down on the blankets. The firelight shone a nebulous
blotch through the canvas and she stared at it, trying to concentrate
her thoughts and realize that the great event had happened.

"I'm engaged," she kept saying to herself, and waited for the rapture,
which, even if belated, ought surely to come. But it did not. The
words obstinately refused to convey any meaning, brought nothing to her
but a mortifying sensation o