Manning had asked, "What will you do when your game of
Patches is played out?" he had said that the man whom they had known in
the old days was dead. Would this new man also die? Deliberately the man
turned about and started back the way he had come.

In their honeymoon camp, that evening, when the only light in the sky
was the light of the stars, and the camp fire's ruddy flames made weird
shadows come and go in the little glade, Helen, lying in the hammock,
and Stanford, sitting near, talked of their old friend Lawrence Knight.
But as they talked they did not know that a lonely horseman had stopped
on the other side of the low ridge, and leaving his horse, had crept
carefully through the brush, to a point on the brow of the hill, from
which he could look down into the camp.

From where he lay in the darkness, the man could see against the camp
fire's light the two, where the hammock was swung under the trees. He
could hear the low murmur of their voices, with now and then a laugh.
But it was always the man who laughed, for there was little mirth in
Helen's heart that night. Then he saw Stanford go into the tent and
return again to the hammock; and soon there came floating up to him the
sweet, plaintive music of Helen's guitar, and then her voice, full and
low, with a wealth of womanhood in every tone, as she sang a love song
to her mate. Later, when the dancing flames of the camp fire had fallen
to a dull red glow, he saw them go arm in arm into their tent. Then all
was still. The red glow of the fire dimmed to a spark, and darkness drew
close about the scene. But even in the darkness the man could still see,
under the wide, sheltering arms of the trees, a lighter spot--the white
tent.

"Gethsemane," said the Dean to me once, when our talk had ranged wide
and touched upon many things, "Gethsemane ain't no place; it's somethin'
that happens. Whenever a man goes up against himself, right there is
where Gethsemane is. And right there, too, is sure to be a fight. A man
may not always know about it at the time; he may be too busy fightin' to
understand just what it all means; but he'll know about it
afterwards--No matter which side of him wins, he'll know afterwards that
it was the one big fight of his life."

CHAPTER XIV.

AT MINT SPRING.

When those days at Prescott were over, and Mr. and Mrs. Manning had left
for their camp in Granite Basin, Kitty Reid returned to Williamson
Valley reluctantly. She felt t