.

"It frightens me, somehow. Yet I never was afraid of trails. I'd ride
anywhere a horse could go, and climb where he couldn't. But there's
something fearful here. I feel as--as if the place was watching me."

"Look at this rock. It's balanced here--balanced perfectly. You know I
told you the cliff-dwellers cut the rock, and why. But they're gone and
the rock waits. Can't you see--feel how it waits here? I moved it once,
and I'll never dare again. A strong heave would start it. Then it would
fall and bang, and smash that crag, and jar the walls, and close forever
the outlet to Deception Pass!"

"Ah! When you come back I'll steal up here and push and push with all
my might to roll the rock and close forever the outlet to the Pass!"
She said it lightly, but in the undercurrent of her voice was a heavier
note, a ring deeper than any ever given mere play of words.

"Bess!... You can't dare me! Wait till I come back with supplies--then
roll the stone."

"I--was--in--fun." Her voice now throbbed low. "Always you must be free
to go when you will. Go now... this place presses on me--stifles me."

"I'm going--but you had something to tell me?"

"Yes.... Will you--come back?"

"I'll come if I live."

"But--but you mightn't come?"

"That's possible, of course. It'll take a good deal to kill me. A man
couldn't have a faster horse or keener dog. And, Bess, I've guns, and
I'll use them if I'm pushed. But don't worry."

"I've faith in you. I'll not worry until after four days. Only--because
you mightn't come--I must tell you--"

She lost her voice. Her pale face, her great, glowing, earnest eyes,
seemed to stand alone out of the gloom of the gorge. The dog whined,
breaking the silence.

"I must tell you--because you mightn't come back," she whispered. "You
must know what--what I think of your goodness--of you. Always I've been
tongue-tied. I seemed not to be grateful. It was deep in my heart.
Even now--if I were other than I am--I couldn't tell you. But I'm
nothing--only a rustler's girl--nameless--infamous. You've saved me--and
I'm--I'm yours to do with as you like.... With all my heart and soul--I
love you!"

CHAPTER XV. SHADOWS ON THE SAGE-SLOPE

In the cloudy, threatening, waning summer days shadows lengthened
down the sage-slope, and Jane Withersteen likened them to the shadows
gathering and closing in around her life.

Mrs. Larkin died, and little Fay was left an orphan with no known
relative. Jane's lo