t
first he was disheartened; but then his eyes caught a gleam of white and
red under the pine, touched to movement by a low-swinging breeze.

It was her hat swaying where she had hung it on a broken bough of the
tree she liked to lean against. And there was her book; not the book of
Mormon, but a secular, frivolous thing called "Leaflets of Memory, an
Illuminated Annual for the Year 1847." It was lying on its face, open at
the sentimental tale of "Anastasia." He put it down where she had left
it. The canon was narrow and she would hardly leave the waterside for
the steep trail. She would be at the upper cascade or in the little park
above it, or somewhere between. He crossed the stream, and there in the
damp sand was the print of a small heel where she had made a long step
from the last stone. He began to hurry again, clambering recklessly over
boulders, or through the underbrush where the sides of the stream were
steep. When the upper cascade came in sight his heart leaped, for there
he caught the fleeting shimmer of a skirt and the gleam of a dark head.

He hurried on, and after a moment's climb had her in full view, standing
on the ledge below which the big trout lay. There he saw her turn so
that he would have sworn she looked at him. It seemed impossible that
she had not seen him; but to his surprise she at once started up the
stream, swiftly footing over the rough way, now a little step, now a
free leap, grasping a willow to pull herself up an incline, then
disappearing around a clump of cedars.

He redoubled his speed over the rocks. When she next came into view,
still far ahead, he shouted long and loud. It was almost certain that
she must hear; and yet she made no sign. She seemed even to speed ahead
the faster for his hail.

Again he sprang forward to cover the distance between them, and again he
shouted when the next view of her showed that he was gaining. This time
he was sure she heard; but she did not look back, and she very plainly
increased her speed.

For an instant he stood aghast at this discovery; then he laughed.

"Well if you _want_ a race, you'll get it!"

He was off again along the rough bed of the stream. He shouted no more,
but slowly increased the gain he had made upon her. Instead of losing
time by climbing up over the bank, he splashed through the water at two
places where the little stream was wide and shallow. Then at last he saw
that he was closing in upon her. Soon he was near eno