ly.

They both answered, but not spontaneously. She stopped at the spring and
with one sweep of her strong arm filled the bucket and lifted it. Then
she started back down the path and, pausing opposite the camp, set the
bucket down.

"Joe, do you still pride yourself on your sour dough?" she asked.

"Reckon I do," replied Joe, with a grin.

"I've heard your boasts, but never tasted your bread," she went on.

"I'll ask you to eat with us some day."

"Don't forget," she replied.

And then shyly she looked at Shefford. She was like the fresh dawn, and
the gold of the sun shone on her head.

"Have you chopped all that wood--so early?" she asked.

"Sure," replied Shefford, laughing. "I have to get up early to keep Joe
from doing all the camp chores."

She smiled, and then to Shefford she seemed to gleam, to be radiant.

"It'd be a lovely morning to climb--'way high."

"Why--yes--it would," replied Shefford, awkwardly. "I wish I didn't have
my work."

"Joe, will YOU climb with me some day?"

"I should smile I will," declared Joe.

"But I can run right up the walls."

"I reckon. Mary, it wouldn't surprise me to see you fly."

"Do you mean I'm like a canyon swallow or an angel?"

Then, as Joe stared speechlessly, she said good-by and, taking up the
bucket, went on with her swift, graceful step.

"She's perked up," said the Mormon, staring after her. "Never heard her
say more 'n yes or no till now."

"She did seem--bright," replied Shefford.

He was stunned. What had happened to her? To-day this girl had not been
Mary, the sealed wife, or the Sago Lily, alien among Mormon women. Then
it flashed upon him--she was Fay Larkin. She who had regarded herself
as dead had come back to life. In one short night what had transformed
her--what had taken place in her heart? Shefford dared not accept, nor
allow lodgment in his mind, a thrilling idea that he had made her forget
her misery.

"Shefford, did you ever see her like that?" asked Joe.

"Never."

"Haven't you--something to do with it?"

"Maybe I have. I--I hope so."

"Reckon you've seen how she's faded--since the trial?"

"No," replied Shefford, swiftly. "But I've not seen her face in daylight
since then."

"Well, take my hunch," said Joe, soberly. "She's begun to fade like the
canyon lily when it's broken. And she's going to die unless--"

"Why man!" ejaculated Shefford. "Didn't you see--"

"Sure I see," interrupted the Mormon. "I see a lot you