t screamed. It was Van
Shaw's hand that had reached out from his blanket and for a moment he
had almost crushed her fingers. She was not certain even now that he had
known what he was doing, or that it was more than a convulsive movement
in his semi-conscious condition. But the memory of it burned her cheeks
like fire, and long after the last embers of the camp fire had died into
grey ashes, she lay there in the tent wide awake and sleepless.

After awhile she grew aware that her mother was sitting close by her.
Esther had determined, after what she had heard from Bauer, to have a
talk with Helen at the first opportunity. The accident to Van Shaw had
changed her purpose somewhat, but she said to herself it had not changed
the facts in the case of Van Shaw's character, and the matter was still
in the same condition as before the accident happened. With that in
mind, mother and daughter began to talk together almost in a whisper,
mindful of the thin tent walls and the nearness of the other members of
the party. Their precaution was, however, almost needless, for everyone
in both camps was sound asleep, and Van Shaw's own wagon and tent were
at the farthest bounds of the camp, removed from the rest so he would
not be disturbed.

"I can't sleep, mother, it has been such an exciting day. Was there ever
such a day; in my life? And I think this last thing has shaken me. I
never knew before what it meant to have nerves. But I can't shut out the
picture of that snake dance and that terrible cliff and------"

She hesitated and then feeling her mother's hand enfolding hers, she
said, with the frankness that had always been true of her confidences
with her mother.

"There is another thing that has made the day different from any other
day for me. I ought to tell you, mother."

"Don't tell anything that belongs to you as your own."

"No. But this belongs to you. I cannot rest without telling."

Helen was glad the darkness hid her face. She told her mother plainly
what Van Shaw had said to her up there on the rock during the brief time
they had been alone.

When Helen had apparently told all, Esther was silent. Helen began to
feel frightened.

"Well, mother, you don't blame me, do you? Did I, have I--at any time
given him any--any--encouragement to think------"

"No, no, dear, I am sure you have not been unmaidenly. But you do not
know all--as I do, as others do, of this young man. I think you ought to
know before you let