the others entered
Bronson's cabin. Alice Weston was the last to enter. For an instant she
stood in the lamplight that floated through the doorway, looking back
toward him. Impulsively he waved good-night. Her attitude had seemed to
call for it. He saw her fingers flash to her lips. She tilted her chin
and threw him a kiss.

"Dog-gone the luck!" he growled as he entered his cabin. And with the
brief expletive he condemned his disloyalty to the sprightly, slender
Dorothy; the Peter Pan of the Blue Mesa; the dream girl of that idle
noon at the Big Spring. The other girl--well, she was just playing with
him.

* * * * *

In view of Lorry's training and natural carefulness it was especially
significant that he decided next day that he had forgotten to lay in
enough supplies for his journey south. He would ride to Jason and pack
in what he needed. He had a fair excuse. Bronson had recently borrowed
some of his canned provisions. He was well on his way to Jason that
morning before the others had arisen.

He was back at the camp shortly after nine that night. As he passed
Bronson's cabin he saw a light in the window. Mrs. Weston was talking
with Dorothy. Lorry had hoped to catch a glimpse of Alice Weston. He had
been hoping all that day that he would see her again before he left.
Perhaps she was asleep.

As he passed the corral a greeting came from the darkness:--

"Good-evening! I thought you had gone."

"I--I didn't see you," he stammered.

Alice Weston laughed softly. "Oh, I was just out here looking at the
stars. It's cooler out here. Then you changed your mind about going?"

"Nope. I had to go to Jason for grub. I'm going to-morrow."

"Oh, I see! We thought you had gone."

"Got a headache?" queried Lorry.

Her voice had been so unnaturally low, almost sad.

"No. I just wanted to be alone."

Lorry fumbled in his pockets. "I got the mail," he stated.

"I'll give it to Mr. Bronson."

Lorry leaned down and gave her the packet of letters and papers.

"Good-bye. I won't see you in the mornin'"

"We'll miss you."

"Honest?"

"Of course!" And she gave him her hand.

He drew his foot from the stirrup. "Put your foot in there," he said,
still holding her hand.

"But why?"

"'Cause I'm goin' to ride off with you, like in books." He laughed, but
his laughter was tense and unnatural.

It was dark. The stars shone faintly. The air was soft with a subtle
fragrance; the frag