eper it was than when they had crossed before. He
cursed the conventions which forbade his staying and watching over the
girl back there in the house which already stood upon an island, cut off
from the safe, high land by a strip of backwater that was widening and
deepening every minute, and, when it rose high enough to flow into the
river below, would have a current that would make a nasty crossing.

On the first rise he stopped and looked back at the light which shone
out from among the dripping cottonwoods. Even then he was tempted to go
back and brave her anger that he might feel assured of her safety.

"Oh, come on," Park cried impatiently. "We can't do any good sitting
out here in the rain. I don't suppose the water will get clear up to
the house; it'll likely do things to the sheds and corrals, though, and
serve Jack right. Come on, Bud. Mona won't have us around, so the sooner
we get under cover the better for us. She's got lots uh nerve; I guess
she'll make out all right."

There was common sense in the argument, and Thurston recognized it and
rode on to camp. But instead of unsaddling, as he would naturally have
done, he tied Sunfish to the bed-wagon and threw his slicker over his
back to protect him from the rain. And though Park said nothing, he
followed Thurston's example.

CHAPTER XIII. "I'll STAY--ALWAYS"

For a long time Thurston lay with wide-open eyes staring up at nothing,
listening to the rain and thinking. By and by the rain ceased and he
could tell by the dim whiteness of the tent roof that the clouds must
have been swept away from before the moon, then just past the full.

He got up carefully so as not to disturb the others, and crept over two
or three sleeping forms on his way to the opening, untied the flap and
went out. The whole hilltop and the valley below were bathed in mellow
radiance. He studied critically the wide sweep of the river. He might
almost have thought it the Missouri itself, it stretched so far
from bank to bank; indeed, it seemed to know no banks but the hills
themselves. He turned toward where the light had shone among the
cottonwoods below; there was nothing but a great blot of shade that told
him nothing.

A step sounded just behind. A hand, the hand of Park, rested upon his
shoulder. "Looks kinda dubious, don't it, kid? Was yuh thinking about
riding down there?"

"Yes," Thurston answered simply. "Are you coming?"

"Sure," Park assented.

They got upon their