rgument than that I'd quit,"
she said. "Weather! weather! weather! to an Idaho girl! Suppose it
should rain, I'm made of neither sugar nor salt, and I won't melt. I've
been rained on a thousand times. Aunt Anna says I may go if Uncle James
is willing, and he's willing--he has to be; besides, he's my chaperon.
If you don't say 'yes,' Uncle James, I shall take the train and go
straight home."

They were forced to consent, and Harley was glad that she insisted,
because he liked to know that she was near, and he thought that she
looked wonderfully well on horseback.

The going of Harley with the candidate was taken as a matter of course
by everybody. Silent, tactful, and strong, he had grown almost
imperceptibly into a confidential relationship with the nominee, and Mr.
Grayson did not realize how much he relied upon the quiet man who could
not make a speech but who was so ready of resource. As for Mr.
Heathcote, being an Easterner, he wished to see the West in all its
aspects.

They started at daybreak, guided by a taciturn mountaineer, Jim Jones,
called simply Jim for the sake of brevity, and, the hour being so early,
few were present to see them ride up the hanging slope and into the
mighty wilderness.

But it was a glorious dawn. The young sun was gilding the sea of crags
and crests with burnished gold and the air had the sparkle of youth. Mr.
Heathcote threw back his slightly narrow chest, and, drawing three deep
breaths of just the same length, he said, "I would not miss this trip
for a thousand dollars!"

"And I wouldn't for two thousand!" exclaimed Sylvia, joyously.

Harley said nothing, but he, too, looked out upon the morning world with
a kindling eye. Far below them was a narrow valley, a faint green line
down the centre showing where the little river ran, with the irrigated
farms on either side, like beads on a string. Above them towered the
peaks, white with everlasting snow.

"A fine day for our ride," said the candidate to Jim.

"Looks like it now, though I never gamble on mountain weather," replied
the taciturn man.

But the promise held good for a long time, the sun still shining and the
winds coming fresh and brisk along the crests and ridges. The trail
wound about the slopes and steadily ascended. Vegetation ceased, and
before them stretched the bare rocks. Harley knew very well now that
only the sunshine saved them from grimness and desolation. The
loneliness became oppressive. Even Sylvia wa