I saw it."

Channing tiptoed back and secured the lantern, his heart thumping rather
hard, not entirely for fear of discovery. They had come at last to the
moment that had been in both their minds since the start of the journey,
beneath all their gaiety and laughter--that final desired solitude of
the heights.

They descended into the shallow ravine--a mere fissure it was in the
surface of the mountain--crossing as they went an almost perpendicular
cornfield of which Jacqueline made mental note as a landmark. They spoke
in whispers, as if fearing to disturb the immemorial silence of the
hills. Here and there a bird woke at their passing, and called a sleepy
note of warning to its mate. Leaves rustled to the touch of the wind
that is never still in high places. Near at hand sounded a sudden eerie
cry, and Jacqueline drew close to Channing with a shudder.

"Suppose we meet a wildcat, or a bear, or something? What would we do?"

"Run," he said laconically; but he put a protective arm about her, which
was perhaps what Jacqueline needed. It is usually in the presence of Man
that Woman allows herself the luxury of timidity.

Soon they ceased to talk at all. He held her very close as they walked,
and sometimes they stood for long moments without moving, embraced. No
talk of Philip or other extraneous matters came between their kisses
now. The young trees with which the ravine was filled hedged them in
close and secret, a friendly guard; and Channing wished to abandon the
expedition to the moon, being well content where he was. But Jacqueline,
impelled by some blind instinct, urged him on toward the open, where a
rim of gold, growing less and ever less, still showed between the
interlacing branches.

Underbrush impeded them, tore at her skirts and her bare ankles, till
Channing picked her up in his arms and carried her; not easily, for he
was little taller than herself, but very willingly. So with his warm and
fragrant burden, he emerged upon the edge of the mountain. At their feet
was a sheer drop of many hundred feet into a canyon, where a stream
whispered, with the reflection of tumbled stars in its bosom. All about
lay a wide prospect of lesser hills, covered with a mantle of soft and
feathery verdure that stirred very lightly, as if the mountains were
breathing in sleep. As they gazed, the rim of the moon sank slowly,
slowly, till there was nothing left but starlight.

Jacqueline murmured, "Isn't it lucky we brought