I've been there I think I can go."

"But we've planned Middle Ranch for today," she would answer evasively,
or, "This is the best time to see Orazaba; it's so clear this morning.
That's the mountain, you know, where the Indians carved out their ollas.
Some of them are still there, only half cut away. It would be too bad
for you to miss that."

At length, however, there came a day when excuses would do no longer.

"We've waited long enough," he declared that morning over their coffee,
"Besides, I may have to go now in a few days."

And although at his words the sunshine of her new world faded suddenly
away, yet the little teacher kept a brave front. She even laughed
carelessly.

"Men are so impatient," she teased, "But we'll go today."

Nevertheless, it was not until the rose of sunset rested among the hills
that at last they found themselves on the crest of the tall cliff which
commanded so wide a stretch of the ocean and the shimmering valleys
below.

"It reminds one of the Bay of Naples," observed Blair, pausing to
scan the rocky coastline against which, far beneath them, the foaming
breakers threw themselves. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked
far out to sea. "What a wonderful place for a watch tower it would have
made!"

"It had one once," softly replied the girl, "Wildenai's watch tower!"

Blair turned, their eyes met, and he smiled.

"It's been splendid to have you with me all these days," he said, "I've
been wanting to tell you. You've been more of a help than you'll ever
know." And then, after a pause, "It's because you care so much about the
story yourself, I suppose, that you've been such an inspiration to me."

Something in the girl's heart seemed suddenly to snap.

"It's because I care more about your work, and--and you. You are so
wonderful!" she broke forth impulsively, and stood before him crimson
with confusion. For a second, which seemed to her an age, there was
silence. Then he spoke and, in her bitter humiliation, his voice sounded
strained and cold.

"Shall we go in?" he asked.

Silently he parted the tangle of manzanita that for centuries had veiled
the secrets of the princess, and stood aside for her to enter. Wildly
the little art teacher glanced about her. This moment to which she had
so looked forward, and yet had dreaded as much because it meant the
end,--this moment which might, nevertheless, have meant much to them
both even though it were the end, she herself had s