you can't take all this," she reminded him.

"No. I can't take this."

"Shall you miss it?"

A shadow fell upon his face. "I'd miss something--I don't know what it
is--that no other place has ever given me. Why do you talk as if I were
going away from it? I'm not."

"Oh, yes; you are," she laughed softly. "It is so written. I'm a
seeress." She turned from the door and threw herself into a chair.

"What will take me?"

"Something inside you. Something unawakened. 'Something lost beyond the
ranges.' You'll know, and you'll obey it."

"Shall I ever come back, O seeress?"

At the question her eyes grew dreamy and distant. Her voice when she
spoke sank to a low-pitched monotone.

"Yes, you'll come back. Sometime.... So shall I ... not for years ...
but--" She jumped to her feet. "What kind of rubbish am I talking?" she
cried with forced merriment. "Is your tobacco drugged with hasheesh,
Ban?"

He shook his head. "It's the pull of the desert," he murmured. "It's
caught you sooner than most. You're more responsive, I suppose; more
sens--Why, Butterfly! You're shaking."

"A Scotchman would say that I was 'fey.' Ban, do you think it means that
I'm coming back here to die?" She laughed again. "If I were fated to die
here, I expect that I missed my good chance in the smash-up. Fortunately
I'm not superstitious."

"There might be worse places," said he slowly. "It is the place that
would call me back if ever I got down and out." He pointed through the
window to the distant, glowing purity of the mountain peak. "One could
tell one's troubles to that tranquil old god."

"Would he listen to mine, I wonder?"

"Try him before you go. You can leave them all here and I'll watch over
them for you to see that they don't get loose and bother you."

"Absolution! If it were only as easy as that! This _is_ a haunted
place.... Why should I be here at all? _Why_ didn't I go when I should?
Why a thousand things?"

"Chance."

"Is there any such thing? Why can't I sleep at night yet, as I ought?
Why do I still feel hunted? What's happening to me, Ban? What's getting
ready to happen?"

"Nothing. That's nerves."

"Yes; I'll try not to think of it. But at night--Ban, suppose I should
come over in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, and call
outside your window?"

"I'd come down, of course. But you'd have to be careful about rattlers,"
answered the practical Ban.

"Your friend, Camilla, would intercept me, anyway. I