Had he fallen in love with Thorne's sweetheart? The idea came in a
flash. Was he, all in an instant, and by one of those incomprehensible
reversals of character, jealous of his friend? Dick was almost afraid
to look up at Mercedes. Still he forced himself to do so, and as it
chanced Mercedes was looking down at him. Somehow the light was
better, and he clearly saw her white face, her black and starry eyes,
her perfect mouth. With a quick, graceful impulsiveness she put her
hand upon his shoulder. Like her appearance, the action was new,
strange, striking to Gale; but it brought home suddenly to him the
nature of gratitude and affection in a girl of her blood. It was sweet
and sisterly. He knew then that he had not fallen in love with her.
The feeling that was akin to jealousy seemed to be of the beautiful
something for which Mercedes stood in Thorne's life. Gale then grasped
the bewildering possibilities, the infinite wonder of what a girl could
mean to a man.

The other haunting intimations of change seemed to be elusively blended
with sensations--the heat and thrill of action, the sense of something
done and more to do, the utter vanishing of an old weary hunt for he
knew not what. Maybe it had been a hunt for work, for energy, for
spirit, for love, for his real self. Whatever it might be, there
appeared to be now some hope of finding it.

The desert began to lighten. Gray openings in the border of shrubby
growths changed to paler hue. The road could be seen some rods ahead,
and it had become a stony descent down, steadily down. Dark, ridged
backs of mountains bounded the horizon, and all seemed near at hand,
hemming in the plain. In the east a white glow grew brighter and
brighter, reaching up to a line of cloud, defined sharply below by a
rugged notched range. Presently a silver circle rose behind the black
mountain, and the gloom of the desert underwent a transformation. From
a gray mantle it changed to a transparent haze. The moon was rising.

"Senor I am cold," said Mercedes.

Dick had been carrying his coat upon his arm. He had felt warm, even
hot, and had imagined that the steady walk had occasioned it. But his
skin was cool. The heat came from an inward burning. He stopped the
horse and raised the coat up, and helped Mercedes put it on.

"I should have thought of you," he said. "But I seemed to feel warm...
The coat's a little large; we might wrap it round you twice."

Mercedes smil