ts deep canyon was the river
and the river trail--and a man, mounted upon a sorrel horse, savagely
intent upon his way. For a minute Kitty studied him curiously as he
hustled along, favoring his horse up the hills but swinging to the
stirrup as he dodged bushes across the flats; then she flung out her
hand impulsively, and called his name. In a flash he was up in his
saddle, looking. Chapuli tossed his head and in the act caught a
glimpse of the other horse--then they both stood rigid, gazing in
astonishment at the living statue against the sky. At sight of that
witching figure, beckoning him from the mountain top, Hardy's heart
leaped within him and stopped. Once more the little hand was thrown
out against the sky and a merry voice floated down to him from the
sun-touched heights.

"Hello, Rufus!" it called teasingly, and still he sat gazing up at
her. All the untamed passions of his being surged up and choked his
voice--he could not answer. His head turned and he gazed furtively
over his shoulder to the east, where his duty lay. Then of his own
accord Chapuli stepped from the trail and began to pick his way
soberly up the hill.

From the high summit of the butte all the world lay spread out like a
panorama,--the slopes and canyons of Bronco Mesa, picketed with giant
_sahuaros_; the silvery course of the river flowing below; the
unpeopled peaks and cliffs of the Superstitions; and a faint haze-like
zephyr, floating upon the eastern horizon. And there at last the eyes
of Rufus Hardy and Kitty Bonnair met, questioning each other, and the
world below them took on a soft, dreamy veil of beauty.

"Why, how did you come here?" he asked, looking down upon her
wonderingly. "Were you lost?"

And Kitty smiled wistfully as she answered:

"Yes--till I found you."

"Oh!" said Hardy, and he studied her face warily, as if doubtful of
her intent.

"But how could you be lost," he asked again, "and travel so far? This
is a rough country, and you got here before I did."

He swung down from his horse and stood beside her, but Kitty only
laughed mischievously and shook her head--at which, by some lover's
magic, the dainty forget-me-nots fell from her hair in a shower of
snowy blossoms.

"I was lost," she reiterated, smiling into his eyes, and in her gaze
Hardy could read--"without you."

For a moment the stern sorrow of the night withheld him. His eyes
narrowed, and he opened his lips to speak. Then, bowing his head, he
knel