that you would do so," replied Harley.

He would have said more, but the armed escort, to a man, was bowing
respectfully, and making no very great effort to conceal its admiration
at the sight of a lady, young and beautiful, such an infrequent visitor
to their lonely hamlet. Nor was this admiration diminished by the fact,
known to them all, that she had taken the hazardous journey over the
mountains with Jimmy Grayson. They considered it a special honor and
dignity conferred upon themselves, and as the candidate introduced them,
one by one, the bows were repeated but with greater depth. Sylvia Morgan
knew how to receive them. She was a child of the mountains herself, and
without any sacrifice of her own dignity she could make them feel that
they knew her and liked her.

All Crow's Wing saw them off, and they rode away over the mountains in
the splendid red and gold of the dawn. Mr. Grayson and "King" Plummer
were near the head of the troop, and Harley and Sylvia were near the
rear, where they remained a part of the general group for a long time,
but at last dropped back behind all the others.

"Won't Mr. Churchill be shocked when he hears of our adventure in the
dead city?" said Sylvia.

"He will think that it is the climax," was the reply.

Harley laughed, but in a few moments he became grave. Yet there was an
expression of much sweetness about his firm mouth.

"Still I am glad that it happened," he said. "I saw a new illustration
of our candidate's powers, and I learned, too, much more than that."

She glanced at him, and as she read something in his face she looked
quickly away, and a sudden flush rose to her cheeks. Despite herself,
her heart began to beat fast and her hand trembled on the bridle rein.

Harley expected her to ask what it was that he had learned, but when he
saw her averted face he went on:

"I learned then, Sylvia, what I should have known long before, that I
love you, that you are the one woman in the world for me. And I do not
believe, Sylvia, that you care only a little for me."

He was bold, masterful, and the ring of confidence was in his voice. His
hand, for a moment, touched her trembling hand on the bridle rein, and
she thrilled with the answering touch.

"Sylvia," he said, with grave sweetness, "I mean to win you."

"You must not talk so," she said, and a sudden pallor replaced the
color in her face. "You know that I cannot in honor hear it. I am
promised, and of my own accord