, in reference to
her face and the name of the flower, but her unconsciousness made him
hold his tongue. She was wholly unlike the other women.

"I'll show you where the lilies grow," she said.

"When?"

"To-morrow. Early in the afternoon I'll come to the spring. Then I'll
take you."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Next morning Joe Lake returned and imparted news that was perturbing
to Shefford. Reports of Shadd had come in to Stonebridge from different
Indian villages; Joe was not inclined to linger long at the camp, and
favored taking the trail with the pack-train.

Shefford discovered that he did not want to leave the valley, and the
knowledge made him reflective. That morning he did not go into the
village, and stayed in camp alone. A depression weighed upon him. It
was dispelled, however, early in the afternoon by the sight of a slender
figure in white swiftly coming down the path to the spring. He had an
appointment with Mary to go to see the sago lilies; everything else
slipped his mind.

Mary wore the long black hood that effectually concealed her face. It
made of her a woman, a Mormon woman, and strangely belied the lithe form
and the braid of gold hair.

"Good day," she said, putting down her bucket. "Do you still want to
go--to see the lilies?"

"Yes," replied Shefford, with a short laugh.

"Can you climb?"

"I'll go where you go."

Then she set off under the cedars and Shefford stalked at her side. He
was aware that Nas Ta Bega watched them walk away. This day, so far, at
least, Shefford did not feel talkative; and Mary had always been one who
mostly listened. They came at length to a place where the wall rose in
low, smooth swells, not steep, but certainly at an angle Shefford would
not of his own accord have attempted to scale.

Light, quick, and sure as a mountain-sheep Mary went up the first swell
to an offset above. Shefford, in amaze and admiration, watched the
little moccasins as they flashed and held on to the smooth rock.

When he essayed to follow her he slipped and came to grief. A second
attempt resulted in like failure. Then he backed away from the wall, to
run forward fast and up the slope, only to slip, halfway up, and fall
again.

He made light of the incident, but she was solicitous. When he assured
her he was unhurt she said he had agreed to go where she went.

"But I'm not a--a bird," he protested.

"Take off your boots. Then you can climb. When we get over the wall
it'll b