the barren days that he was sure were to
come.

Finally he broke away from the pleasant lingering with an exclamation,
for the sun was hastening upward and it was time they were on their way.
Hastily he packed away the things, she trying in her bungling
unaccustomedness to help and only giving sweet hindrance, with the
little white hands that thrilled him so wonderfully as they came near
with a plate or a cup, or a bit of corn bread that had been left out.

He put her on the horse and they started on their way. Yet not once in
all the pleasant contact had he betrayed his secret, and Hazel began to
feel the burden of what she had found out weighing guiltily upon her
like a thing stolen which she would gladly replace but dared not.
Sometimes, as they rode along, he quietly talking as the day before,
pointing out some object of interest, or telling her some remarkable
story of his experiences, she would wonder if she had not been entirely
mistaken; heard wrong, maybe, or made more of the words than she should
have done. She grew to feel that he could not have meant her at all. And
then turning suddenly she would find his eyes upon her with a light in
them so tender, so yearning, that she would droop her own in confusion
and feel her heart beating wildly with the pleasure and the pain of it.

About noon they came to a rain-water hole near which were three Indian
hogans. Brownleigh explained that he had come this way, a little out of
the shortest trail, hoping to get another horse so that they might
travel faster and reach the railroad before sundown.

The girl's heart went suddenly heavy as he left her sitting on Billy
under a cottonwood tree while he went forward to find out if any one was
at home and whether they had a horse to spare. Of course she wanted to
find her friends and relieve their anxiety as soon as possible, but
there was something in the voice of the young missionary as he spoke of
hastening onward that seemed to build a wall between them. The pleasant
intercourse of the morning seemed drawing so quickly to a close: the
wonderful sympathy and interest between them pushed with a violent hand
out of her reach. She felt a choking sensation in her throat as if she
would like to put her head down on Billy's rough neck-locks and sob.

She tried to reason with herself. It was but a little over twenty-four
hours since she first looked upon this stranger, and yet her heart was
bound to him in such a way that she