on, but I'm not to blame for the way I told you--of
myself. You forced it. For once in my life at least, Florence, I'm in
dead earnest to-day."

The girl hesitated. Tears of anger, or of something else, came into her
eyes. "I'm going home," she announced briefly, and turned back the way
they had come.

The man silently wheeled his buckskin and for five minutes, ten minutes,
they rode toward home together.

"Florence," said the youth steadily, "I had something more I wished to
say to you; will you listen?"

No answer--only the sound of the solid steps of the thoroughbred and the
daintier tread of the mustang.

"Florence," he repeated, "I asked you a question."

The girl's face was turned away. "Oh, you are cruel!" she said.

Ben touched his pony, advanced, caught the bridle of the girl's horse,
and brought both to a standstill. The girl did not turn her head to look
at him, but she did not resist. Deliberately the man dismounted, loosed
the rolled blanket he carried back of his saddle, spread it upon the
ground, then looked fairly up into her brown eyes.

"Florence," he said, as he held out his hand to assist her to dismount,
"I've something I wish very much to say to you. Won't you listen?"

Florence Baker looked steadily down into the clear blue eyes. Why she
did not refuse she could not have told, could never tell. As well as she
knew her own name she realized what was coming--what it was the man
wished to say to her; but she did not refuse to listen.

"Florence," he said gently, "I'm waiting," and as in a dream she
stepped into the proffered hand, felt herself lowered to the ground,
followed the young man over to the blanket, and sat down. The sun, now
high above them, shone down warmly and approvingly. Scarcely a breath of
air was stirring. Not a sound came from over the prairies. As completely
as though they were the only two people on the earth, they were alone.

The man stretched himself at his companion's feet, where he could look
into her face and catch its every expression.

"Florence Baker," his voice came to her ears like the sound of one
speaking afar off, "Florence Baker, I love you. In all that I'm going to
say, bear this in mind; don't forget it for a moment. To me you will
always be the one woman on earth. Why I haven't told you this before,
why I waited until you were passing from my life before I said it, I
don't know; but now I'm as sure as that I'm looking at you that it is
so." The bl