cheeks and her expression had changed.

"Let's go back up over the rocks," she said. "I've not climbed for--for
so long."

"I'll go where you go," he replied.

Then she was off, and he followed. She took to the curves of the
bare rocks and climbed. He sensed a spirit released in her. It was so
strange, so keen, so wonderful to be with her, and when he did catch
her he feared to speak lest he break this mood. Her eyes grew dark and
daring, and often she stopped to look away across the wavy sea of stones
to something beyond the great walls. When they got high the wind blew
her hair loose and it flew out, a golden stream, with the sun bright
upon it. He saw that she changed her direction, which had been in line
with the two peaks, and now she climbed toward the heights. They came
to a more difficult ascent, where the stone still held to the smooth
curves, yet was marked by steep bulges and slants and crevices. Here she
became a wild thing. She ran, she leaped, she would have left him far
behind had he not called. Then she appeared to remember him and waited.

Her face had now lost its whiteness; it was flushed, rosy, warm.

"Where--did you--ever learn--to run over rocks--this way?" he panted.

"All my life I've climbed," she said. "Ah! it's so good to be up on the
walls again--to feel the wind--to see!"

Thereafter he kept close to her, no matter what the effort. He would
not miss a moment of her, if he could help it. She was wonderful. He
imagined she must be like an Indian girl, or a savage who loved the
lofty places and the silence. When she leaped she uttered a strange,
low, sweet cry of wildness and exultation. Shefford guessed she was a
girl freed from her prison, forgetting herself, living again youthful
hours. Still she did not forget him. She waited for him at the bad
places, lent him a strong hand, and sometimes let it stay long in his
clasp. Tireless and agile, sure-footed as a goat, fleet and wild
she leaped and climbed and ran until Shefford marveled at her. This
adventure was indeed fulfilment of a dream. Perhaps she might lead him
to the treasure at the foot of the rainbow. But that thought, sad with
memory daring forth from its grave, was irrevocably linked with a
girl who was dead. He could not remember her, in the presence of
this wonderful creature who was as strange as she was beautiful. When
Shefford reached for the brown hand stretched forth to help him in a
leap, when he felt its strong clasp