g by
every means in his lumbering power to shield the memory of the dead
man from the effects of the manner of his death. Helen honored her
lover for it. He was just the good, loyal soul she had believed. And
now, as she stood with the tinted paper message, announcing his return
in her hand, she smiled, and wondered tenderly what blunders he would
contrive in the process.

Sundown. Sundown would not be for at least two hours. Two hours. Two
hours meant some fourteen or sixteen miles by horse upon the trail.
She told herself she could not see for sixteen miles, nor even for
eight. It was absurd waiting there. She had already been waiting there
over an hour. Then she smiled, laughing at herself for her absurd
yearning for this lover of hers. He was so big, so foolish, so honest
and loyal--and, he was just hers.

She sat down again on the ground, as already she had seated herself
many times. She would restrain her impatience. She would not just get
up at every----

She was on her feet again at the very moment of making her resolve.
This time her eyes were straining and wide open. Every nerve in her
body was at a tension. Some one was on the trail this time. Certain.
It was a horseman, too. There was no mistake, but he was near, quite
near, comparatively. How had she come to miss him in the far distance?

She saw the figure as it came over a rising ground. She watched it
closely. Then she saw it was not on the trail, but was making for
it--across country. Now she knew. Now she was certain, and she laughed
and clapped her hands. It must be Bill, and--of course he had lost
himself, and now, at last, had found his way.

The horseman came on at a great pace.

As he drew nearer a frown of doubt crossed the girl's face. He did not
appear big enough--somehow.

He dropped down into a hollow, and mounted the next crest. In a
moment, as he came into view, Helen felt like bursting into tears of
disappointment.

The next moment, however, all thought of tears passed away and a
steady coldness grew in her eyes. She felt like hiding herself back
there in the valley. She had recognized the man. Without a doubt it
was Stanley Fyles. But he wore no uniform. He was clad in a civilian
costume, which pronouncedly smacked of the prairie.

It was too late to hide. Besides, to hide would be undignified. What
was he coming to the valley for? Helen's eyes hardened. Nor did she
know quite why she felt resentful at the sight of him. Yes, s