s straight and
clean-cut.

"But what of those who remained behind?" asked Stephen, alert now.
"Surely the quality was there! It must be there yet! Those of the
old-timers who remained behind must have stayed simply because of
circumstances. Good men often curb the adventurous spirit out of sheer
conscientious regard for others who--"

"It is you, Stephen!" interrupted Helen, quietly. "It is you, yourself.
All Easterners are not like you, I well know. Yet you and your type are
found in all parts of the East."

Stephen stood for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the mystic skyline.
Then he turned to her as if about to speak. But there was only the
silent message of his longing eyes. Finally he turned away and, as if
unconsciously, fell to stroking the horse.

He had nothing to say, and he knew it. The girl was right, and he knew
that. She had pointed out to him only what others at different times had
mildly tried to make him see. He was a rich young man, or would be after
a death or two in his family. But that in itself was no excuse for his
inertia. Many had told him that. But he had never taken it seriously. It
had remained for the little woman beside him to make him fully realize
it. She alone had driven it home so that it hurt. Yet between this girl
and the others who had taken him mildly to task there was the difference
between day and darkness. For he loved this girl, and if she would not
marry him for reasons which he knew he could remedy, then it was up to
him to accept her criticism, which was perhaps a challenge, and go forth
and do something and be something, and reveal his love to her through
that effort. What it would be he did not know. He did know he must get
out of the town--get out of the Territory, if needs be--but he must go
somewhere in this country of worthy aspiration and live as he knew she
would have him live, do something, be something, something that for its
very worth to her as well as to all mankind would awaken her ready
response. Such a move he realized, as he stood beside her, would be as
decent in him as she in her criticism had been eloquently truthful. The
vigor, the relentless certainty, with which she had pointed out his
weakness--no one before had had the courage to deal with him like this.
And reviewing it all, and then casting grimly forward into his future,
he suddenly awoke, as he gently stroked this mettled horse, to a strange
likeness between the spirit of horse and mistress.