at
pesky little rattlesnake."

"I'm not worrying," said Keith.

Fifteen minutes later he heard Duggan snoring. Quietly he unwrapped his
blanket and sat up. There were still burning embers in the fire, the
night--like that first night of his flight--was a glory of stars, and
the moon was rising. Their camp was in a small, meadowy pocket in the
center of which was a shimmering little lake across which he could
easily have thrown a stone. On the far side of this was the sheer wall
of a mountain, and the top of this wall, thousands of feet up, caught
the glow of the moon first. Without awakening his comrade, Keith walked
to the lake. He watched the golden illumination as it fell swiftly
lower over the face of the mountain. He could see it move like a great
flood. And then, suddenly, his shadow shot out ahead of him, and he
turned to find the moon itself glowing like a monstrous ball between
the low shoulders of a mountain to the east. The world about him became
all at once vividly and wildly beautiful. It was as if a curtain had
lifted so swiftly the eye could not follow it. Every tree and shrub and
rock stood out in a mellow spotlight; the lake was transformed to a
pool of molten silver, and as far as he could see, where shoulders and
ridges did not cut him out, the moonlight was playing on the mountains.
In the air was a soft droning like low music, and from a distant crag
came the rattle of loosened rocks. He fancied, for a moment, that Mary
Josephine was standing at his side, and that together they were
drinking in the wonder of this dream at last come true. Then a cry came
to his lips, a broken, gasping man-cry which he could not keep back,
and his heart was filled with anguish.

With all its beauty, all its splendor of quiet and peace, the night was
a bitter one for Keith, the bitterest of his life. He had not believed
the worst of Mary Josephine. He knew he had lost her and that she might
despise him, but that she would actually hate him with the desire for a
personal vengeance he had not believed. Was Duggan right? Was Mary
Josephine unfair? And should he in self-defense fight to poison his own
thoughts against her? His face set hard, and a joyless laugh fell from
his lips. He knew that he was facing the inevitable. No matter what had
happened, he must go on loving Mary Josephine.

All through that night he was awake. Half a dozen times he went to his
blanket, but it was impossible for him to sleep. At four o'cl