longing for companionship
that was pathetic in its eagerness, and the yearning had not been
modified by the isolation and monotony of her present life. To dance, to
be merry, to have the opportunity to please, seemed the most important
thing in the world to the girl and now she seemed to realize, in
mutinous despair, that through no fault of her own she was going to be
cheated of that which was her right--of that which was every girl's
right--to have the pleasures which belonged to her years.

Kate's standards were the standards of the old west and of the mountains
and plains, which take only personal worth into account, so she did not
yet comprehend clearly what it was all about. She herself had done
nothing to merit such treatment from people whose names she did not even
know. She rode for a long time without speaking, trying, in her tragic
bewilderment, to puzzle it out.

The silence was in painful contrast to the high spirits in which they
had ridden into town. Then, they had found so much to talk about, so
much to anticipate--and it had all turned out to be so different, so far
removed from anything they had dreamed. Each shrank from being the first
to broach the subject of their humiliating retreat.

The moon came up after a while, full and mellow, and the night air
cooled Kate's flaming cheeks. The familiar stars, too, soothed her like
the presence of old friends, but, more than anything, the accustomed
motion of her horse, as it took its running walk, helped to restore her
mental poise.

At the top of a hill both drew rein automatically. Walking down steep
descents to save their horses and themselves was an understood thing
between them. At the bottom they still trudged on, leading their horses
and exchanging only an occasional word upon some subject far removed
from their real thoughts. It was Kate who finally said with seeming
irrelevance:

"Uncle Joe brought home two collie puppies once--fat, roly-poly little
things that didn't do anything but play and eat, and they were--oh, so
innocent! They were into everything, and always under foot, afraid of
nothing or nobody, because they never had been hurt.

"One night a storm came up--a cold rain that was almost snow. They ran
into my tent and settled themselves on my pillow all shivering and wet.
In squirming around to make a nest for themselves they pulled my hair.
It made me cross. I was half asleep and I slapped them.

"They paid no attention to it at f