's lips, and let a little of the liquid trickle down his throat.
But there was no response, and she stood up again, looking for water.
The brook that had seemed so far away from Haig was at no distance for
her flying feet; and she was back on the run with her sombrero filled.
Dashing the water into Philip's face, she was off again for more. With
this she bathed his face and neck and wrists; and then set herself to
slapping the palms of his hands with her own.

Still there was no response. But when she pressed her head to his
breast once more she was assured that she had not been mistaken; his
heart was beating feebly--but beating. A second time she put the
whisky flask to his lips; and returned to the limp hands, rubbing
them, slapping them until her own burned and ached.

Hours it seemed, and ages flowing away into eternity. The sky was
darkening, and from the top of Thunder Mountain came a muffled roar
that was echoed back and forth across the valley. She looked up at the
towering cliff, and trembled. And then, with the last fading
reverberation, there came another sound that brought her leaning down
close to Philip's face. Was it a sigh, or only--

"Philip! Philip! Philip!" she called, softly at first, then in a cry
that rang across the meadow.

At last a quiver went through the limp figure; the eyes were opened,
only to be quickly closed again, as if the light had hurt them. She
called to him again, in pleading accents. The eyelids fluttered, and
he looked up into the face of the girl bending over him. It was a
puzzled, uncomprehending look. And thereupon his lips moved.

"Yes, Philip! What is it?"

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"It's Marion!" she cried. "Don't you know me?"

"But--where?"

"I don't know. Thunder Mountain."

"Yes, I know that!" he said, with a note of impatience. "Sunnysides
and--all that. But--you?"

"I followed, and found you."

A weak smile flickered on his lips. She saw that he did not believe
her.

"Look! Look!" she cried. "It's Marion. And yonder--is Tuesday."

He moved his head a little, and stared at the pony still standing
fascinated and terrified by the stillness of poor Trixy.

"It's--impossible!" he muttered. "You couldn't--"

He made an effort to look up at the cliff down, which he had come.

"But it's quite true, Philip. I'm here."

But she saw that he was still groping in the dark. He lifted his right
hand, and touched his head, while the expression of pe