esourcefulness, a strength in reserve.
Suddenly the light from the lantern which he had hung on a nail in the
wall above the table, struck an exceedingly large ruby she wore on her
left hand. It glowed blood-red, scintillated, flamed. He saw the stone was
mounted with diamonds in a unique setting of some foreign workmanship, and
he told himself it was probably an heirloom; it was too massive, too
ornate for a betrothal ring; still he moved uneasily and set the cup down
untasted. His eyes returned to her face, questioning, doubting. He was
like a musician surprised to detect in a beautiful symphony the first
false note.

After that the conversation lagged. It was not cool on the porch. A
broadside of lightning sweeping the cabin showed it stood in a narrow
valley walled by precipitous, barren slopes and widening gulfwise towards
the Columbia desert. The pent air seemed surcharged. It was as though that
table was set in a space between running dynamos, and when a stronger
flash came, Miss Armitage instinctively grasped her chair, holding herself
from contact with an unseen and terrible force. Once, during an interlude,
the silence was broken by a strange, faint cry.

"Did you hear?" she asked breathlessly. "What was it?"

Tisdale smiled into her troubled eyes. "Why, just a cougar; lonesome, I
guess, and calling his mate. But it's all right. Sounds carry in these
mountain gorges, and his cry was picked up by some cross wind miles from
here. Look at those dogs! They wouldn't stay curled up there on the ground
asleep, too indifferent to prick up an ear, if a cougar, or even a coyote,
were near."

Still she was not wholly reassured. She leaned forward, listening, trying
to fathom the darkness with a lurking terror in her eyes. At last, when
Tisdale rose to say good night, she, too, left her chair. She laid her
hand on the edge of the table as though that might steady her voice. "Are
you going to the stable?" she asked. "Did you find a possible bed?"

Hollis laughed. "You needn't trouble about me. I am the sort of fellow to
find the soft side of a plank. Yes, it's true. There have been times when
I've slept luxuriously on a board, with just my coat rolled up for a
pillow."

There was a brief pause while her imagination grasped the thought; then:
"You must have been very tired," she said.

"I was," he answered dryly and reached to take the lantern from the wall.
At the foot of the steps he halted and put the light down t