tely for a means
to escape unseen. But no such avenue presented itself, and she drew
back into a deep crevice of her rock pinnacle lest he see her.

A grubby, stunted pine somehow managed to gain sustenance from the
stray earth among the rock cracks and screened her hiding-place. The
man was very close, now. She could hear his heavy breathing and the
click of his boot heels upon the bare rocks. Then he crossed to the
very verge of the precipice and seated himself with his feet hanging
over the edge. For some moments he sat gazing out over the bad lands,
and then his hand slipped into the front of his shirt and withdrew a
bottle of whiskey.

The girl's lips tightened as she watched him from behind her screen of
naked roots and branches. He looked a long time at the bottle, shook
it, and held it to the sun as he contemplated the little beads that
sparkled at the edge of the liquor line. He read its label, and seemed
deeply interested in the lines of fine print contained upon an oval
sticker that adorned its back. Still holding the bottle, he once more
stared out over the bad lands. Then he drew the cork and smelled of
the liquor, breathing deeply of its fragrance, and turning, gazed
intently toward the little white tent beside the stunted pines.

Alice saw that his eyes were serious as he set the bottle upon the rock
beside him. And then, hardly discernible at first, but gradually
assuming distinct form, a whimsical smile curved his lips as he looked
at the bottle.

"Gosh!" he breathed, softly, "ain't you an' I had some nonsensical
times? I ain't a damned bit sorry, neither. But our trails fork here.
Maybe for a while--maybe for ever. But if it is for ever, my average
will be right honourable if I live to be a hundred." Alice noticed how
boyish the clean-cut features looked when he smiled that way. The
other smile--the masking, cynical smile--made him ten years older. The
face was once more grave, and he raised the bottle from the rock. "So
long," he said, and there was just that touch of honest regret in his
voice with which he would have parted from a friend. "So long. I've
got a choice to make--an' I don't choose you."

The hand that held the bottle was empty. There was a moment of silence
and then from far below came the tinkle of smashing glass. The Texan
got up, adjusted the silk scarf at his neck, rolled a cigarette, and
clambering down the sharp descent, made his way toward the grazing
h