he wall to the head of the oasis,
and found a seat on the fence. The next few weeks presented to him a
situation that would be difficult to endure. He would be near Mescal,
but only to have the truth forced cruelly home to him every sane
moment--that she was not for him. Out on the ranges he had abandoned
himself to dreams of her; they had been beautiful; they had made the
long hours seem like minutes; but they had forged chains that could not
be broken, and now he was hopelessly fettered.

The clatter of hoofs roused him from a reverie which was half sad, half
sweet. Mescal came tearing down the level on Black Bolly. She pulled
in the mustang and halted beside Hare to hold out shyly a red scarf
embroidered with Navajo symbols in white and red beads.

"I've wanted a chance to give you this," she said, "a little Christmas
present."

For a few seconds Hare could find no words.

"Did you make it for me, Mescal?" he finally asked. "How good of you!
I'll keep it always."

"Put it on now--let me tie it--there!"

"But, child. Suppose he--they saw it?"

"I don't care who sees it."

She met him with clear, level eyes. Her curt, crisp speech was full of
meaning. He looked long at her, with a yearning denied for many a day.
Her face was the same, yet wonderfully changed; the same in line and
color, but different in soul and spirit. The old sombre shadow lay deep
in the eyes, but to it had been added gleam of will and reflection of
thought. The whole face had been refined and transformed.

"Mescal! What's happened? You're not the same. You seem almost happy.
Have you--has he--given you up?"

"Don't you know Mormons better than that? The thing is the same--so far
as they're concerned."

"But Mescal--are you going to marry him? For God's sake, tell me."

"Never." It was a woman's word, instant, inflexible, desperate. With a
deep breath Hare realized where the girl had changed.

"Still you're promised, pledged to him! How'll you get out of it?"

"I don't know how. But I'll cut out my tongue, and be dumb as my poor
peon before I'll speak the word that'll make me Snap Naab's wife."

There was a long silence. Mescal smoothed out Bolly's mane, and Hare
gazed up at the walls with eyes that did not see them.

Presently he spoke. "I'm afraid for you. Snap watched us to-day at
dinner."

"He's jealous."

"Suppose he sees this scarf?"

Mescal laughed defiantly. It was bewildering for Hare to hear her.

"He'll--Mescal,