It was
all right. Nothing was going to happen. And wasn't it about time for the
stage to arrive?

Bondsman trotted to the doorway, gazed up and down the street, and came
back to Shoop. The stage had arrived, and Bondsman was telling Shoop so
by the manner in which he waited for his master to follow him into the
sunlight. Bud grinned.

"You're tellin' me the stage is in--and I got a letter to send."

Bud picked up his hat. Bondsman had already preceded him to the doorway,
and stood waiting. His attitude expressed the extreme patience of age,
but that the matter should be attended to without unreasonable delay.
Shoop sighed heavily.

"That there dog bosses me around somethin' scandalous."

Halfway across the Blue Mesa, Dorothy met her ranger man. She had been
watching the trail. Lorry dismounted and walked with her to the cabin.
Bronson was glad to see him. They chatted for a while. Lorry would have
spoken of his father's offer--of his plans, of many things he wished
Bronson to know, yet he could not speak of these things until he had
talked with Dorothy. He would see Bronson again. Meanwhile--

A little later Lorry went to his cabin to take stock of the implements
and make his final report. He swept the cabin, picked up the loose odds
and ends, closed the battered piano gently, and sat down to think.

He had made his decision, and yet--he had seen Dorothy again; touched
her hand, talked with her, and watched her brown eyes while he talked.
The Great War seemed very far away. And here he was at home. This was
his country. But he had set his face toward the High Trail. He could not
turn back.

Dorothy stood in the doorway, her finger at her lips. Bronson was busy
writing. Lorry rose and stepped out. He stooped and lifted her to Gray
Leg. She sat sideways in the saddle as he led the pony across the mesa
to the veritable rim of the world.

Far below lay the open country, veiled by the soft haze of distance. He
gave her his hand, and she slipped to the ground and stood beside him.
For the first time the tremendous sweep of space appalled her. She drew
close to him and touched his arm.

"What is it, Lorry?"

"You said--once--that you would wait for me."

"Yes. And now you are here, I'll never be lonesome again."

"Were you lonesome?"

"A little. I had never really waited--like that--before."

He frowned and gazed into the distances. It had been easy to
decide--when alone. Then he faced her, his gray eyes cle