boldly. The
cheekbones were rather high; the gray eyes were wide open and full of
light. And as he advanced, walking with easy strides where the path was
smooth, picking his way carefully where it was rough, the color rose
under the deep tan of his cheeks.

She was the first to break the silence. She had been watching the rising
color in his face, the dilation of his nostrils, and feeling the
quickening rise and fall of his chest.

"Put me down now and rest; you are tired."

"I am not tired." He trudged on. He would show her that if he had not
been able to mount her on her horse, at least it was not from lack
of strength.

"Please put me down; it pains me," she said guilefully. He stopped
instantly, and selecting a clear place, seated her softly.

"I beg your pardon. I was a brute, thinking only of myself."

He seated himself near her, and stole a glance at her face. Their eyes
met, and he looked away. He thought her quite beautiful.

To break the silence, she asked, a little tone of politeness coming into
her voice: "May I inquire what your name is? I am Miss Yorke--Miss Alice
Yorke," she added, intending to make him feel at ease.

"Gordon Keith is my name. Where are you from?" His manner was again
perfectly easy.

"From New York."

"I thought you were."

She fancied that a little change came over his face and into his manner,
and she resented it. She looked down the hill. Without a word he rose
and started to lift her again. She made a gesture of dissent. But before
she could object further, he had lifted her again, and, with steady eyes
bent on the stony path, was picking his way down the steep hill.

"I am dreadfully sorry," he said kindly, as she gave a start over a
little twinge. "It is the only way to get down. No vehicle could get up
here at present, unless it were some kind of a flying chariot like
Elijah's. It is only a little farther now."

What a pleasant voice he had! Every atom of pride and protection in his
soul was enlisted.

When they reached the road, the young lady wanted Gordon to go off and
procure a vehicle at the hotel. But he said he could not leave her alone
by the roadside; he would carry her on to a house only a little way
around the bend.

"Why, I can carry a sack of salt," he said, with boyish pride, standing
before her very straight and looking down on her with frank eyes.

Her eyes flashed in dudgeon over the comparison.

"A girl is very different from a sack of salt