ead drooped to hide her face, and he went on:
"Why do you care for me? Tell me!"

"I don't know," she murmured. Then she added, with a flash of bravery:
"But I do."

"What a mystery it all is! You turn from a splendid fellow like Landon to
a 'skate' like me. Landon worships you--you know that--don't you?"

"I know--he--" she ended, vaguely distressed.

"Did he ask you to marry him?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you? He's just the mate for you. He's a man of high character
and education." She made no answer to this, and he went on: "Dear girl,
I'm not worth your care--truly I'm not. I resented your engagement to
Belden, for he was a brute; but Landon is different. He thinks the world
of you. He'll go high in the service. I've never done anything in the
world--I never shall. It will be better for you if I go--to-morrow."

She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, then, putting her arm
about his neck, drew him to her bosom and kissed him passionately. "You
break my heart when you talk like that," she protested, with tears. "You
mustn't say such gloomy things--I won't let you give up. You shall come
right home with me, and I will nurse you till you are well. It was all my
fault. If we had only stayed in camp at the lake daddy would have joined
us that night, and if I had not loitered on the mountain yesterday Cliff
would not have overtaken us. It's all my fault."

"I will not have it go that way," he said. "I've brought you only care
and unhappiness thus far. I'm an alien--my ways are not your ways."

"I can change," she answered. "I hate my ways, and I like yours."

As they argued she felt no shame, and he voiced no resentment. She knew
his mood. She understood his doubt, his depression. She pleaded as a man
might have done, ready to prove her love, eager to restore his
self-respect, while he remained both bitter and sadly contemptuous.

A cow-hand riding up the trail greeted Berrie respectfully, but a cynical
smile broke out on his lips as he passed on. Another witness--another
gossip.

She did not care. She had no further concern of the valley's comment. Her
life's happiness hung on the drooping eyelashes of this wounded boy, and
to win him back to cheerful acceptance of life was her only concern.

"I've never had any motives," he confessed. "I've always done what
pleased me at the moment--or because it was easier to do as others were
doing. I went to college that way. Truth is, I never had any surplus
vitali