ide where she and Stanford began their years of
home-building. A half mile below she could see the mining buildings that
were grouped about the shaft in picturesque disorder. Above, the
tree-clad ridge rose against the sky. It was too far from the great
world of cities, some would have said, but Helen did not find it so.
With her books and her music, and the great out-of-doors; and with the
companionship of her mate and the dreams they dreamed together, her
woman heart was never lonely.

She lowered the book she was reading, and looked through the open window
to the clock in the living-room. A little while, and she would go down
the hill to Stanford, for they loved to walk home together. Then, before
lifting the printed page again, she looked over the wide view of rugged
mountain sides and towering peaks that every day held for her some new
beauty. She had resumed her reading when the sound of horses' feet
attracted her attention.

Patches and Yavapai Joe were riding up the hill.

They stopped at the gate, and while Joe held Stranger's bridle rein,
Patches came to Helen as she stood on the porch waiting to receive him.

"Surely you will stay for the night," she urged when they had exchanged
greetings, and had talked for a little while.

"No," he answered quietly. "I just came this way to say good-by; I
stopped for a few minutes with Stan at the office. He said I would find
you here."

"But where are you going?" she asked.

Smiling he waved his hand toward the mountain ridge above. "Just over
the sky line, Helen."

"But, Larry, you will come again? You won't let us lose you altogether?"

"Perhaps--some day," he said.

"And who is that with you?"

"Just a friend who cares to go with me. Stan will tell you."

"Oh, Larry, Larry! What a man you are!" she cried proudly, as he stood
before her holding out his hand.

"If you think so, Helen, I am glad," he answered, and turned away.

So she watched him go. Sitting there at home, she watched him ride up
the winding road. Now he was in full view on some rocky shoulder of the
mountain--now some turn carried him behind a rocky point--again she
glimpsed him through the trees--again he was lost to her in the shadows.
At last, for a moment, he stood out boldly against the wide-arched
sky--and then he had passed from sight--over the sky line, as he had
said.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's When A Man's A Man, by Harold Bell Wright

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