and slept again with a long drawn trembling sigh that was
almost like a sob, and the heart of the young man was shaken to its
depths over the agony through which she must have passed. Poor child,
poor little child!

He busied himself with making their temporary camp as comfortable as
possible, and looking after the needs of the horses, then coming back
to his patient he stood looking down at her as she slept, wondering what
he ought to do next.

They were a long distance from any human habitation. Whatever made the
pony take this lonely trail was a puzzle. It led to a distant Indian
settlement, and doubtless the animal was returning to his former master,
but how had it come that the rider had not turned him back?

Then he looked down at the frail girl asleep on the ground and grew
grave as he thought of the perils through which she had passed alone and
unguarded. The exquisite delicacy of her face touched him as the vision
of an angelic being might have done, and for an instant he forgot
everything in the wonder with which her beauty filled him; the lovely
outline of the profile as it rested lightly against her raised arm, the
fineness and length of her wealth of hair, like spun gold in the glint
of the sunshine that was just peering over the rim of the mountain, the
clearness of her skin, so white and different from the women in that
region, the pitiful droop of the sweet lips showing utter exhaustion.
His heart went out from him with longing to comfort her, guard her, and
bring her back to happiness. A strange, joyful tenderness for her
filled him as he looked, so that he could scarcely draw his gaze from
her face. Then all at once it came over him that she would not like a
stranger thus to stand and gaze upon her helplessness, and with quick
reverence he turned his eyes away towards the sky.

It was a peculiar morning, wonderfully beautiful. The clouds were tinted
pink almost like a sunset and lasted so for over an hour, as if the dawn
were coming gently that it might not waken her who slept.

Brownleigh, with one more glance to see if his patient was comfortable,
went softly away to gather wood, bring more water, and make various
little preparations for a breakfast later when she should waken. In an
hour he tiptoed back to see if all was going well, and stooping laid a
practiced finger on the delicate wrist to note the flutter of her pulse.
He could count it with care, feeble, as if the heart had been under
he