rhapsodize. It sometimes terrified her almost when she saw
how much his mood depended on hers. But once the mood was established,
her dominance ceased and his began. If they were sad or gay or
thoughtful or poetic, it was in his way and not in hers. He took the
lead masterfully, and perhaps the more effectually in that it was done
unconsciously. And in a way which every reader will understand, but
which genius alone could put into words, this mutual psychical
dependence made them feel the need of each other more strongly than any
merely physical dependence ever could.

There is much to do in a new and romantic country, where the imminence
of a sordid, dreary future, when the soil will raise its own people and
the crop will be poor, is mercifully veiled. The future then counts
little in the face of the Past--the Past with its bearded strong men of
other lands, bringing their power and vigour here to be moulded and
directed by the influences of the frontier. Its shadow still lies over
the land.

They did it all. The Rock was still the favourite place to read or
talk--crossbars nailed on firmly made "shinning" unnecessary now--but
it was often deserted for days while they explored. Bennington had
bought the little bronco, and together they extended their
investigations of the country in all directions. They rode to Spring
Creek Valley. They passed the Range over into Custer Valley. Once they
climbed Harney by way of Grizzly Gulch.

Thus they grew to know the Hills intimately. From the summit of the
Rock they would often look abroad over the tangle of valleys and
ridges, selecting the objective points for their next expedition. Many
surprises awaited them, for they found that here, as everywhere, a
seemingly uniform exterior covered an almost infinite variety.

Or again, the horses were given a rest. The sarvis-berries ripened, and
they picked hatfuls. Then followed the raspberries on the stony hills.
They walked four unnecessary miles to see a forest fire, and six to buy
buckskin work from a band of Sioux who had come up into the timber for
their annual supply of tepee poles. They taught their ponies tricks.
They even went wading together, like two small children, in a pool of
Battle Creek.

Bennington was deliciously, carelessly, forgetfully happy. Only there
was Jim Fay. That individual was as much of a persecution as ever, and
he seemed to enjoy a greater intimacy with the girl than did the
Easterner. He did not