at wouldn't have happened before I went to Woodford. I've been
going through what they call--being civilized. It's mostly learning
not to shock the New England sense of propriety."

"I'm not a New Englander!"

Knight's eyes were daring her; and it was fatal. What Sarah would have
said if she could have seen Blue Bonnet's method of getting a drink is
hard to conjecture. Hardly had she time to spring to her feet when
voices were heard close at hand.

"I can hear Sandy." She turned eagerly to Knight. "Let's go on--I
don't feel ready for a crowd."

"There's a lovely view from the top of the hill," he suggested.

Her only answer was to push on, plying her alpenstock eagerly in her
haste to elude the others. Pausing only when the top of the hill was
reached, she sank at length on a fallen tree-trunk. The view was all
Knight had promised for it, overlooking a quiet valley.

"Let's call it 'Peaceful Valley,'" she said.

"It may have a different name on the map, but no one can prevent our
christening it what we like," he agreed.

Blue Bonnet was content to rest for a while here. There was no sign of
life anywhere, except a solitary bird wheeling about far above their
heads.

"A swallow-tailed kite," Knight said as the bird dropped suddenly into
clearer view. "Graceful, isn't it?"

All at once the big kite alighted on the dead branch of a tree near
them.

"What glorious wings!" breathed Blue Bonnet.

"Would you like one for your hat?" Knight asked.

"Oh, wouldn't I!" she cried eagerly.

Quick as flash Knight swung his rifle about, aimed and fired. Blue
Bonnet put her fingers in her ears with an exclamation of alarm. The
bird toppled as if to fall, then righted itself with a lurch and
fluttered out from the tree. Blue Bonnet gave a sigh of relief.

"I was so afraid you had hurt him!" she cried,--and the words died
away in a gasp of distress. The kite, pitching headlong, had fallen
almost at her feet.

She dropped on her knees beside it; but the bird was still. Knight,
bending over her, was suddenly filled with surprise and dismay; she
was crying like a child.

"It was so mean and vain of me," she said with quivering lips, "--to
want him just for a hat, when he was having such a beautiful time."

Knight was pale with hatred of himself.

She looked up at last and smiled mistily through her tears. "I reckon
you think I am pretty much of a baby. But I can't bear to see
things--die."

"It's only a big hawk,"