All these would have meant little compared to her
indefinite expression. Venters grasped the peculiar, vivid, vital
something that leaped from her face. It was as if she had been in a
dead, hopeless clamp of inaction and feeling, and had been suddenly shot
through and through with quivering animation. Almost it was as if she
had returned to life.

And Venters thought with lightning swiftness, "I've saved her--I've
unlinked her from that old life--she was watching as if I were all she
had left on earth--she belongs to me!" The thought was startlingly new.
Like a blow it was in an unprepared moment. The cheery salutation he had
ready for her died unborn and he tumbled the pieces of pottery awkwardly
on the grass while some unfamiliar, deep-seated emotion, mixed with pity
and glad assurance of his power to succor her, held him dumb.

"What a load you had!" she said. "Why, they're pots and crocks! Where
did you get them?"

Venters laid down his rifle, and, filling one of the pots from his
canteen, he placed it on the smoldering campfire.

"Hope it'll hold water," he said, presently. "Why, there's an enormous
cliff-dwelling just across here. I got the pottery there. Don't you
think we needed something? That tin cup of mine has served to make tea,
broth, soup--everything."

"I noticed we hadn't a great deal to cook in."

She laughed. It was the first time. He liked that laugh, and though he
was tempted to look at her, he did not want to show his surprise or his
pleasure.

"Will you take me over there, and all around in the valley--pretty soon,
when I'm well?" she added.

"Indeed I shall. It's a wonderful place. Rabbits so thick you can't step
without kicking one out. And quail, beaver, foxes, wildcats. We're in a
regular den. But--haven't you ever seen a cliff-dwelling?"

"No. I've heard about them, though. The--the men say the Pass is full of
old houses and ruins."

"Why, I should think you'd have run across one in all your riding
around," said Venters. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully,
and he essayed a perfectly casual manner, and pretended to be busy
assorting pieces of pottery. She must have no cause again to suffer
shame for curiosity of his. Yet never in all his days had he been so
eager to hear the details of anyone's life.

"When I rode--I rode like the wind," she replied, "and never had time to
stop for anything."

"I remember that day I--I met you in the Pass--how dusty you were, how
ti