arned. And joy, like a warm flood, crept up
again to his heart. He sat on the hillside and held his small love
close. One of his arms moved stiffly, and he groaned a little. She
rubbed it for him.

"You'd better come home and let Bella and me fix it. It may be badly
hurt. You're sure it isn't broken?" she asked.

"Quite sure."

"Lean on me! I'll help you down. You can tell me where to step."

"Nonsense," he laughed, his very blood singing warm with relief. "A
strained arm won't hurt my walking apparatus. We had a lover's quarrel,
didn't we? And the boulder was peacemaker. Bless the boulder!"

"Don't joke, dear. You saved my life at the risk of your own. Are
you always doing insane, generous, dangerous things? Think if you had
been--" She shivered.

"Do you suppose my life is worth anything to me without yours, Sylvie?"
He bent his head and kissed her again, but he had learned his lesson,
and there was restraint and timidity in that kiss.

"The sun's come out," cried Sylvie.

"Yes, it's splendidly bright. There's a clean slit in the sky; there at
the western edge the dark gray cap is being lifted inch by inch, the way
a boy lifts his cap to see the butterfly he's caught. All's gold behind
it, Sylvie, burning gold. The rocks are like bright copper. And the
pines, they're incandescent, phosphorescent green--"

"If I could only see it!"

Down near the pines a tall, still figure stood watching them. It was
Pete, and his smile, usually so frank and sweet, had now a sardonic
twist. As they came down out of their sun into his shadow, he spoke with
a drag to his syllables.

"Hullo," he said. "That was a narrow escape you had, you two!"

The voice might have been a pistol-shot for the start it gave to Hugh.

"Why, it's Pete. We must be late, Pete," Sylvie called joyously. "Did
you see how Hugh saved my life? He threw himself down before the rock
and stopped it. He's hurt his poor arm. The great stone was right on top
of us, and he threw me out of the way and set his own strength against
it. I couldn't see the rock, Pete, but it felt like a mountain."

"It was big enough to smash you both," said Pete.

He looked at Hugh, whose eyes glared in a strained, shamed face. The
older man's fingers worked nervously; he opened his lips and closed them
again. It was easy to understand the travail of his mind, unwilling
to forego the imaginary bit of heroism, and yet abashed by the boy's
awareness of the lie.

Pete gave on