upon his senses with
intoxicating power. Standing there tingling and trembling, he made
one firm resolve. Never would he see her again. To-morrow he would
make a long-planned trip to the city. He dared not wait another
day. To-morrow? No, that was Sunday. He would spend one full happy
day in that ravine seeking to recatch the emotions that had
thrilled his boy's heart on that great night five years ago, and
having thus filled his heart, he would take his departure without
seeing her again.

It was the custom of the people of the ranch to spend Sunday
afternoon at the Mission. So without a word even to French, calling
his dogs, Captain and Queen, Kalman rode down the trail that led
past the lake and toward the Night Hawk ravine. By that same trail
he had gone on that memorable afternoon, and though five years had
passed, the thoughts, the imaginings of that day, were as freshly
present with him as if it had been but yesterday. And though they
were the thoughts and imaginings of a mere boy, yet to-day they
seemed to him good and worthy of his manhood.

Down the trail, well beaten now, through the golden poplars he
rode, his dogs behind him, till he reached the pitch of the ravine.
There, where he had scrambled down, a bridle path led now. It was
very different, and yet how much remained unchanged. There was the
same glorious sun raining down his golden beams upon the yellow
poplar leaves, the same air, sweet and genial, in him the same
heart, and before him the same face, but sweeter it seemed, and
eyes the same that danced with every sunbeam and lured him on. He
was living again the rapture of his boyhood's first great passion.

At the mine's mouth he paused. Not a feature remained of the cave
that he had discovered five years ago, but sitting there upon his
horse, how readily he reconstructed the scene! Ah, how easy it was!
Every line of that cave, the new fresh earth, the gleaming black
seam, the very stones in the walls, he could replace. Carefully,
deliberately, he recalled the incidents of the evening spent in the
cave: the very words she spoke; how her lips moved as she spoke
them; how her eyes glanced, now straight at him, now from under the
drooping lids; how she smiled, how she wept, how she laughed aloud;
how her face shone with the firelight playing on it, and the soul
light radiating through it. He revelled in the memory of it all.
There was the very spot where Mr. Penny had lain in vocal slumber.
Here