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+Project Gutenberg's The Man of the Desert, by Grace Livingston Hill
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Man of the Desert
+
+Author: Grace Livingston Hill
+
+Release Date: May 28, 2007 [EBook #21633]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN OF THE DESERT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Brian Janes and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Man of the Desert
+
+
+
+BY GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL
+
+
+          AUTHOR OF
+          MARCIA SCHUYLER, PHOEBE DEANE,
+          DAWN OF THE MORNING, LO, MICHAEL, ETC.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+          GROSSET & DUNLAP
+          PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+          Copyright, 1914, by
+          FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
+
+          New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
+          Chicago: 125 North Wabash Ave.
+          Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W.
+          London: 21 Paternoster Square
+          Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+          I.    PROSPECTING                    9
+
+          II.   THE MAN                       24
+
+          III.  THE DESERT                    43
+
+          IV.   THE QUEST                     64
+
+          V.    THE TRAIL                     86
+
+          VI.   CAMP                         101
+
+          VII.  REVELATION                   116
+
+          VIII. RENUNCIATION                 130
+
+          IX.   "FOR REMEMBRANCE"            148
+
+          X.    HIS MOTHER                   162
+
+          XI.   REFUGE                       180
+
+          XII.  QUALIFYING FOR SERVICE       197
+
+          XIII. THE CALL OF THE DESERT       218
+
+          XIV.  HOME                         232
+
+          XV.   THE WAY OF THE CROSS         253
+
+          XVI.  THE LETTER                   267
+
+          XVII. DEDICATION                   284
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+PROSPECTING
+
+
+It was morning, high and clear as Arizona counts weather, and around the
+little railroad station were gathered a crowd of curious onlookers;
+seven Indians, three women from nearby shacks--drawn thither by the
+sight of the great private car that the night express had left on a side
+track--the usual number of loungers, a swarm of children, besides the
+station agent who had come out to watch proceedings.
+
+All the morning the private car had been an object of deep interest to
+those who lived within sight, and that was everybody on the plateau; and
+many and various had been the errands and excuses to go to the station
+that perchance the occupants of that car might be seen, or a glimpse of
+the interior of the moving palace; but the silken curtains had remained
+drawn until after nine o'clock.
+
+Within the last half hour, however, a change had taken place in the
+silent inscrutable car. The curtains had parted here and there,
+revealing dim flitting faces, a table spread with a snowy cloth and
+flowers in a vase, wild flowers they were, too, like those that grew all
+along the track, just weeds. Strange that one who could afford a private
+car cared for weeds in a glass on their dining-table, but then perhaps
+they didn't know.
+
+A fat cook with ebony skin and white linen attire had appeared on the
+rear platform beating eggs, and half whistling, half singing:
+
+          "Be my little baby Bumble-bee--
+           Buzz around, buzz around----"
+
+He seemed in no wise affected or embarrassed by the natives who
+gradually encircled the end of the car, and the audience grew.
+
+They could dimly see the table where the inmates of the car
+were--dining?--it couldn't be breakfast at that hour surely. They heard
+the discussion about horses going on amid laughter and merry
+conversation, and they gathered that the car was to remain here for the
+day at least while some of the party went off on a horseback trip. It
+was nothing very unusual of course. Such things occasionally occurred in
+that region, but not often enough to lose their interest. Besides, to
+watch the tourists who chanced to stop in their tiny settlement was the
+only way for them to learn the fashions.
+
+Not that all the watchers stood and stared around the car. No, indeed.
+They made their headquarters around the station platform from whence
+they took brief and comprehensive excursions down to the freight station
+and back, going always on one side of the car and returning by way of
+the other. Even the station agent felt the importance of the occasion,
+and stood around with all the self-consciousness of an usher at a grand
+wedding, considering himself master of ceremonies.
+
+"Sure! They come from the East last night. Limited dropped 'em! Going
+down to prospect some mine, I reckon. They ordered horses an' a outfit,
+and Shag Bunce is goin' with 'em. He got a letter 'bout a week ago
+tellin' what they wanted of him. Yes, I knowed all about it. He brung
+the letter to me to cipher out fer him. You know Shag ain't no great at
+readin' ef he is the best judge of a mine anywheres about."
+
+Thus the station agent explained in low thrilling tones; and even the
+Indians watched and grunted their interest.
+
+At eleven o'clock the horses arrived, four besides Shag's, and the rest
+of the outfit. The onlookers regarded Shag with the mournful interest
+due to the undertaker at a funeral. Shag felt it and acted accordingly.
+He gave short, gruff orders to his men; called attention to straps and
+buckles that every one knew were in as perfect order as they could be;
+criticized the horses and his men; and every one, even the horses, bore
+it with perfect composure. They were all showing off and felt the
+importance of the moment.
+
+Presently the car door opened and Mr. Radcliffe came out on the platform
+accompanied by his son--a handsome reckless looking fellow--his daughter
+Hazel, and Mr. Hamar, a thick-set, heavy-featured man with dark hair,
+jaunty black moustache and handsome black eyes. In the background stood
+an erect elderly woman in tailor-made attire and with a severe
+expression, Mr. Radcliffe's elder sister who was taking the trip with
+them expecting to remain in California with her son; and behind her
+hovered Hazel's maid. These two were not to be of the riding party, it
+appeared.
+
+There was a pleasant stir while the horses were brought forward and the
+riders were mounting. The spectators remained breathlessly unconscious
+of anything save the scene being enacted before them. Their eyes
+lingered with special interest on the girl of the party.
+
+Miss Radcliffe was small and graceful, with a head set on her pretty
+shoulders like a flower on its stem. Moreover she was fair, so fair that
+she almost dazzled the eyes of the men and women accustomed to brown
+cheeks kissed by the sun and wind of the plain. There was a wild-rose
+pink in her cheeks to enhance the whiteness, which made it but the more
+dazzling. She had masses of golden hair wreathed round her dainty head
+in a bewilderment of waves and braids. She had great dark eyes of blue
+set off by long curling lashes, and delicately pencilled dark brows
+which gave the eyes a pansy softness and made you feel when she looked
+at you that she meant a great deal more by the look than you had at
+first suspected. They were wonderful, beautiful eyes, and the little
+company of idlers at the station were promptly bewitched by them.
+Moreover there was a fantastic little dimple in her right cheek that
+flashed into view at the same time with the gleam of pearly teeth when
+she smiled. She certainly was a picture. The station looked its fill and
+rejoiced in her young beauty.
+
+She was garbed in a dark green riding habit, the same that she wore when
+she rode attended by her groom in Central Park. It made a sensation
+among the onlookers, as did the little riding cap of dark green velvet
+and the pretty riding gloves. She sat her pony well, daintily, as though
+she had alighted briefly, but to their eyes strangely, and not as the
+women out there rode. On the whole the station saw little else but the
+girl; all the others were mere accessories to the picture.
+
+They noticed indeed that the young man, whose close cropped golden
+curls, and dark lashed blue eyes were so like the girl's that he could
+be none other than her brother, rode beside the older man who was
+presumably the father; and that the dark, handsome stranger rode away
+beside the girl. Not a man of them but resented it. Not a woman of them
+but regretted it.
+
+Then Shag Bunce, with a parting word to his small but complete outfit
+that rode behind, put spurs to his horse, lifted his sombrero in homage
+to the lady, and shot to the front of the line, his shaggy mane by which
+came his name floating over his shoulders. Out into the sunshine of a
+perfect day the riders went, and the group around the platform stood
+silently and watched until they were a speck in the distance blurring
+with the sunny plain and occasional ash and cottonwood trees.
+
+"I seen the missionary go by early this mornin'," speculated the station
+agent meditatively, deliberately, as though he only had a right to break
+the silence. "I wonder whar he could 'a' bin goin'. He passed on t'other
+side the track er I'd 'a' ast 'im. He 'peared in a turrible hurry.
+Anybody sick over towards the canyon way?"
+
+"Buck's papoose heap sick!" muttered an immobile Indian, and shuffled
+off the platform with a stolid face. The women heaved a sigh of
+disappointment and turned to go. The show was out and they must return
+to the monotony of their lives. They wondered what it would be like to
+ride off like that into the sunshine with cheeks like roses and eyes
+that saw nothing but pleasure ahead. What would a life like that be?
+Awed, speculative, they went back to their sturdy children and their
+ill-kempt houses, to sit in the sun on the door-steps and muse a while.
+
+Into the sunshine rode Hazel Radcliffe well content with the world,
+herself, and her escort.
+
+Milton Hamar was good company. He was keen of wit and a past-master in
+the delicate art of flattery. That he was fabulously wealthy and
+popular in New York society; that he was her father's friend both
+socially and financially, and had been much of late in their home on
+account of some vast mining enterprise in which both were interested;
+and that his wife was said to be uncongenial and always interested in
+other men rather than her husband, were all facts that combined to give
+Hazel a pleasant, half-romantic interest in the man by her side. She had
+been conscious of a sense of satisfaction and pleasant anticipation when
+her father told her that he was to be of their party. His wit and
+gallantry would make up for the necessity of having her Aunt Maria
+along. Aunt Maria was always a damper to anything she came near. She was
+the personification of propriety. She had tried to make Hazel think she
+must remain in the car and rest that day instead of going off on a wild
+goose chase after a mine. No lady did such things, she told her niece.
+
+Hazel's laugh rang out like the notes of a bird as the two rode slowly
+down the trail, not hurrying, for there was plenty of time. They could
+meet the others on their way back if they did not get to the mine so
+soon, and the morning was lovely.
+
+Milton Hamar could appreciate the beauties of nature now and then. He
+called attention to the line of hills in the distance, and the sharp
+steep peak of a mountain piercing the sunlight. Then skillfully he led
+his speech around to his companion, and showed how lovelier than the
+morning she was.
+
+He had been indulging in such delicate flattery since they first started
+from New York, whenever the indefatigable aunt left them alone long
+enough, but this morning there was a note of something closer and more
+intimate in his words; a warmth of tenderness that implied unspeakable
+joy in her beauty, such as he had never dared to use before. It
+flattered her pride deliciously. It was beautiful to be young and
+charming and have a man say such things with a look like that in his
+eyes--eyes that had suffered, and appealed to her to pity. With her
+young, innocent heart she did pity, and was glad she might solace his
+sadness a little while.
+
+With consummate skill the man led her to talk of himself, his hopes in
+youth, his disappointments, his bitter sadness, his heart loneliness. He
+suddenly asked her to call him Milton, and the girl with rosy cheeks and
+dewy eyes declared shyly that she never could, it would seem so queer,
+but she finally compromised after much urging on "Cousin Milton."
+
+"That will do for a while," he succumbed, smiling as he looked at her
+with impatient eyes. Then with growing intimacy in his tones he laid a
+detaining hand upon hers that held the bridle, and the horses both
+slackened their gait, though they had been far behind the rest of the
+party for over an hour now.
+
+"Listen, little girl," he said, "I'm going to open my heart to you. I'm
+going to tell you a secret."
+
+Hazel sat very still, half alarmed at his tone, not daring to withdraw
+her hand, for she felt the occasion was momentous and she must be ready
+with her sympathy as any true friend would be. Her heart swelled with
+pride that it was to her he came in his trouble. Then she looked up into
+the face that was bending over hers, and she saw triumph, not trouble,
+in his eyes. Even then she did not understand.
+
+"What is it?" she asked trustingly.
+
+"Dear child!" said the man of the world impressively, "I knew you would
+be interested. Well, I will tell you. I have told you of my sorrow, now
+I will tell you of my joy. It is this: When I return to New York I shall
+be a free man. Everything is complete at last. I have been granted a
+divorce from Ellen, and there remain only a few technicalities to be
+attended to. Then we shall be free to go our ways and do as we choose."
+
+"A divorce!" gasped Hazel appalled. "Not you--divorced!"
+
+"Yes," affirmed the happy man gaily, "I knew you'd be surprised. It's
+almost too good to be true, isn't it, after all my trouble to get Ellen
+to consent?"
+
+"But she--your wife--where will she go? What will she do?" Hazel looked
+up at him with troubled eyes, half bewildered with the thought.
+
+She did not realize that the horses had stopped and that he still held
+her hand which grasped the bridle.
+
+"Oh, Ellen will be married at once," he answered flippantly. "That's the
+reason she's consented at last. She's going to marry Walling Stacy, you
+know, and from being stubborn about it, she's quite in a hurry to make
+any arrangement to fix things up now."
+
+"She's going to be married!" gasped Hazel as if she had not heard of
+such things often. Somehow it had never come quite so close to her list
+of friendships before and it shocked her inexpressibly.
+
+"Yes, she's going to be married at once, so you see there's no need to
+think of her ever again. But why don't you ask me what I am going to
+do?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Hazel recalling her lack of sympathy at once. "You
+startled me so. What are you going to do? You poor man--what can you do?
+Oh, I am so sorry for you!" and the pansy-eyes became suffused with
+tears.
+
+"No need to feel sorry for me, little one," said the exultant voice, and
+he looked at her now with an expression she had never seen in his face
+before. "I shall be happy as I have never dreamed of before," he said.
+"I am going to be married too. I am going to marry some one who loves me
+with all her heart, I am sure of that, though she has never told me so.
+I am going to marry you, little sweetheart!" He stooped suddenly before
+she could take in the meaning of his words, and flinging his free arm
+about her pressed his lips upon hers.
+
+With a wild cry like some terrified creature Hazel tried to draw herself
+away, and finding herself held fast her quick anger rose and she lifted
+the hand which held the whip and blindly slashed the air about her; her
+eyes closed, her heart swelling with horror and fear. A great repulsion
+for the man whom hitherto she had regarded with deep respect surged over
+her. To get away from him at once was her greatest desire. She lashed
+out again with her whip, blindly, not seeing what she struck, almost
+beside herself with wrath and fear.
+
+Hamar's horse reared and plunged, almost unseating his rider, and as he
+struggled to keep his seat, having necessarily released the girl from
+his embrace, the second cut of the whip took him stingingly across the
+eyes, causing him to cry out with the pain. The horse reared again and
+sent him sprawling upon the ground, his hands to his face, his senses
+one blank of pain for the moment.
+
+Hazel, knowing only that she was free, followed an instinct of fear and
+struck her own pony on the flank, causing the little beast to turn
+sharply to right angles with the trail he had been following and dart
+like a streak across the level plateau. Thereafter the girl had all she
+could do to keep her seat.
+
+She had been wont to enjoy a run in the Park with her groom at safe
+distance behind her. She was proud of her ability to ride, and could
+take fences as well as her young brother; but a run like this across an
+illimitable space, on a creature of speed like the wind, goaded by fear
+and knowing the limitations of his rider, was a different matter. The
+swift flight took her breath away, and unnerved her. She tried to hold
+on to the saddle with her shaking hands, for the bridle was already
+flying loose to the breeze, but her hold seemed so slight that each
+moment she expected to find herself lying huddled on the plain with the
+pony far in the distance.
+
+Her lips grew white and cold; her breath came short and painfully; her
+eyes were strained with trying to look ahead at the constantly receding
+horizon. Was there no end? Would they never come to a human habitation?
+Would no one ever come to her rescue? How long could a pony stand a pace
+like this? And how long could she hope to hold on to the furious flying
+creature?
+
+Off to the right at last she thought she saw a building. It seemed hours
+they had been flying through space. In a second they were close by it.
+It was a cabin, standing alone upon the great plain with sage-brush in
+patches about the door and a neat rail fence around it.
+
+She could see one window at the end, and a tiny chimney at the back.
+Could it be that any one lived in such a forlorn spot?
+
+Summoning all her strength as they neared the spot she flung her voice
+out in a wild appeal while the pony hurled on, but the wind caught the
+feeble effort and flung it away into the vast spaces like a little torn
+worthless fragment of sound.
+
+Tears stung their way into her wide dry eyes. The last hairpin left its
+mooring and slipped down to earth. The loosened golden hair streamed
+back on the wind like hands of despair wildly clutching for help, and
+the jaunty green riding cap was snatched by the breeze and hung upon a
+sage-bush not fifty feet from the cabin gate, but the pony rushed on
+with the frightened girl still clinging to the saddle.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE MAN
+
+
+About noon of the same day the missionary halted his horse on the edge
+of a great flat-topped mesa and looked away to the clear blue mountains
+in the distance.
+
+John Brownleigh had been in Arizona for nearly three years, yet the
+wonder of the desert had not ceased to charm him, and now as he stopped
+his horse to rest, his eyes sought the vast distances stretched in every
+direction, and revelled in the splendour of the scene.
+
+Those mountains at which he was gazing were more than a hundred miles
+from him, and yet they stood out clear and distinct in the wonderful
+air, and seemed but a short journey away.
+
+Below him were ledges of rock in marvellous colours, yellow and gray,
+crimson and green piled one upon another, with the strange light of the
+noonday sun playing over them and turning their colours into a blaze of
+glory. Beyond was a stretch of sand, broken here and there by
+sage-brush, greasewood, or cactus rearing its prickly spines
+grotesquely.
+
+Off to the left were pink tinted cliffs and a little farther dark
+cone-like buttes. On the other hand low brown and white hills stretched
+away to the wonderful petrified forest, where great tracts of fallen
+tree trunks and chips lay locked in glistening stone.
+
+To the south he could see the familiar water-hole, and farther the
+entrance to the canyon, fringed with cedars and pines. The grandeur of
+the scene impressed him anew.
+
+"Beautiful, beautiful!" he murmured, "and a grand God to have it so!"
+Then a shadow of sadness passed over his face, and he spoke again aloud
+as had come to be his habit in this vast loneliness.
+
+"I guess it is worth it," he said, "worth all the lonely days and
+discouraging months and disappointments, just to be alone with a
+wonderful Father like mine!"
+
+He had just come from a three days' trip in company with another
+missionary whose station was a two days' journey by horseback from his
+own, and whose cheery little home was presided over by a sweet-faced
+woman, come recently from the East to share his fortunes. The delicious
+dinner prepared for her husband and his guests, the air of comfort in
+the three-roomed shack, the dainty touches that showed a woman's hand,
+had filled Brownleigh with a noble envy. Not until this visit had he
+realized how very much alone his life was.
+
+He was busy of course from morning till night, and his enthusiasm for
+his work was even greater than when nearly three years before he had
+been sent out by the Board to minister to the needs of the Indians.
+Friends he had by the score. Wherever a white man or trader lived in the
+region he was always welcome; and the Indians knew and loved his coming.
+He had come around this way now to visit an Indian hogan where the
+shadow of death was hovering over a little Indian maiden beloved of her
+father. It had been a long way around and the missionary was weary with
+many days in the saddle, but he was glad he had come. The little maid
+had smiled to see him, and felt that the dark valley of death seemed
+more to her now like one of her own flower-lit canyons that led out to a
+brighter, wider day, since she had heard the message of life he brought
+her.
+
+But as he looked afar over the long way he had come, and thought of the
+bright little home where he had dined the day before, the sadness still
+lingered in his face.
+
+"It would be good to have somebody like that," he said, aloud again,
+"somebody to expect me, and be glad,--but then"--thoughtfully--"I
+suppose there are not many girls who are willing to give up their homes
+and go out to rough it as she has done. It is a hard life for a
+woman--for that kind of a woman!" A pause, then, "And I wouldn't want
+any other kind!"
+
+His eyes grew large with wistfulness. It was not often thus that the
+cheery missionary stopped to think upon his own lot in life. His heart
+was in his work, and he could turn his hand to anything. There was
+always plenty to be done. Yet to-day for some inexplicable reason, for
+the first time since he had really got into the work and outgrown his
+first homesickness, he was hungry for companionship. He had seen a light
+in the eyes of his fellow-missionary that spoke eloquently of the
+comfort and joy he himself had missed and it struck deep into his heart.
+He had stopped here on this mesa, with the vast panorama of the desert
+spread before him, to have it out with himself.
+
+The horse breathed restfully, drooping his head and closing his eyes to
+make the most of the brief respite, and the man sat thinking, trying to
+fill his soul with the beauty of the scene and crowd out the longings
+that had pressed upon him. Suddenly he raised his head with a quiet
+upward motion and said reverently:
+
+"Oh, my Christ, you knew what this loneliness was! You were lonely too!
+It is the way you went, and I will walk with you! That will be good."
+
+He sat for a moment with uplifted face towards the vast sky, his fine
+strong features touched with a tender light, their sadness changing into
+peace. Then with the old cheery brightness coming into his face again he
+returned to the earth and its duties.
+
+"Billy, it's time we were getting on," he remarked to his horse
+chummily. "Do you see that sun in the heavens? It'll get there before we
+do if we don't look out, and we're due at the fort to-night if we can
+possibly make it. We had too much vacation, that's about the size of it,
+and we're spoiled! We're lazy, Billy! We'll have to get down to work.
+Now how about it? Can we get to that water-hole in half an hour? Let's
+try for it, old fellow, and then we'll have a good drink, and a bite to
+eat, and maybe ten minutes for a nap before we take the short trail
+home. There's some of the corn chop left for you, Billy, so hustle up,
+old boy, and get there."
+
+Billy, with an answering snort, responded to his master's words, and
+carefully picked his way over boulders and rocks down to the valley
+below.
+
+But within a half mile of the water-hole the young man suddenly halted
+his horse and sprang from the saddle, stooping in the sand beside a tall
+yucca to pick up something that gleamed like fire in the sunlight. In
+all that brilliant glowing landscape a bit of brightness had caught his
+eye and insistently flung itself upon his notice as worthy of
+investigation. There was something about the sharp light it flung that
+spoke of another world than the desert. John Brownleigh could not pass
+it by. It might be only a bit of broken glass from an empty flask flung
+carelessly aside, but it did not look like that. He must see.
+
+Wondering he stooped and picked it up, a bit of bright gold on the
+handle of a handsome riding whip. It was not such a whip as people in
+this region carried; it was dainty, costly, elegant, a lady's riding
+whip! It spoke of a world of wealth and attention to expensive details,
+as far removed from this scene as possible. Brownleigh stood still in
+wonder and turned the pretty trinket over in his hand. Now how did that
+whip come to be lying in a bunch of sage-brush on the desert? Jewelled,
+too, and that must have given the final keen point of light to the flame
+which made him stop short in the sand to pick it up. It was a single
+clear stone of transparent yellow, a topaz likely, he thought, but
+wonderfully alive with light, set in the end of the handle, and looking
+closely he saw a handsome monogram engraved on the side, and made out
+the letters H. R. But that told him nothing.
+
+With knit brows he pondered, one foot in the stirrup, the other still
+upon the desert, looking at the elegant toy. Now who, _who_ would be so
+foolish as to bring a thing like that into the desert? There were no
+lady riders anywhere about that he knew, save the major's sister at the
+military station, and she was most plain in all her appointments. This
+frivolous implement of horsemanship never belonged to the major's
+sister. Tourists seldom came this way. What did it mean?
+
+He sprang into the saddle and shading his eyes with his hand scanned the
+plain, but only the warm shimmer of sun-heated earth appeared. Nothing
+living could be seen. What ought he to do about it? Was there any way he
+might find out the owner and restore the lost property?
+
+Pondering thus, his eyes divided between the distance and the glittering
+whip-handle, they came to the water-hole; and Brownleigh dismounted, his
+thoughts still upon the little whip.
+
+"It's very strange, Billy. I can't make out a theory that suits me," he
+mused aloud. "If any one has been riding out this way and lost it, will
+they perhaps return and look for it? Yet if I leave it where I found it
+the sand might drift over it at any time. And surely, in this sparsely
+settled country, I shall be able to at least hear of any strangers who
+might have carried such a foolish little thing. Then, too, if I leave it
+where I found it some one might steal it. Well, I guess we'll take it
+with us, Billy; we'll hear of the owner somewhere some time no doubt."
+
+The horse answered with a snort of satisfaction as he lifted his moist
+muzzle from the edge of the water and looked contentedly about.
+
+The missionary unstrapped his saddle and flung it on the ground,
+unfastening the bag of "corn chop" and spreading it conveniently before
+his dumb companion. Then he set about gathering a few sticks from near
+at hand and started a little blaze. In a few minutes the water was
+bubbling cheerfully in his little folding tin cup for a cup of tea, and
+a bit of bacon was frying in a diminutive skillet beside it. Corn bread
+and tea and sugar came from the capacious pockets of the saddle. Billy
+and his missionary made a good meal beneath the wide bright quiet of the
+sky.
+
+When the corn chop was finished Billy let his long lashes droop lower
+and lower, and his nose go down and down until it almost touched the
+ground, dreaming of more corn chop, and happy in having his wants
+supplied. But his master, stretched at full length upon the ground with
+hat drawn over his eyes, could not lose himself in sleep for a second.
+His thoughts were upon the jewelled whip, and by and by he reached his
+hand out for it, and shoving back his hat lay watching the glinting of
+lights within the precious heart of the topaz, as the sun caught and
+tangled its beams in the sharp facets of the cutting. He puzzled his
+mind to know how the whip came to be in the desert, and what was meant
+by it. One reads life by details in that wide and lonely land. This whip
+might mean something. But what?
+
+At last he dropped his hand and sitting up with his upward glance he
+said aloud:
+
+"Father, if there's any reason why I ought to look for the owner, guide
+me."
+
+He spoke as if the One he addressed were always present in his
+consciousness, and they were on terms of the closest intimacy.
+
+He sprang up then and began putting the things together, as if the
+burden of the responsibility were upon One fully able to bear it.
+
+They were soon on their way again, Billy swinging along with the full
+realization of the nearness of home.
+
+The way now led towards hazy blue lines of mesas with crags and ridges
+here and there. Across the valley, looking like a cloud-shadow, miles
+distant lay a long black streak, the line of the gorge of the canyon.
+Its dim presence seemed to grow on the missionary's thought as he drew
+nearer. He had not been to that canyon for more than a month. There were
+a few scattered Indians living with their families here and there in
+corners where there was a little soil. The thought of them drew him now.
+He must make out to go to them soon. If it were not that Billy had been
+so far he would go up there this afternoon. But the horse needed rest
+if the man did not, and there was of course no real hurry about the
+matter. He would go perhaps in the morning. Meantime it would be good to
+get to his own fireside once more and attend to a few letters that
+should be written. He was invited to the fort that night for dinner.
+There was to be some kind of a frolic, some visitors from the East. He
+had said he would come if he reached home in time. He probably would,
+but the idea was not attractive just now. He would rather rest and read
+and go to sleep early. But then, of course he would go. Such
+opportunities were none too frequent in this lonely land, though in his
+present mood the gay doings at the fort did not appeal to him strongly;
+besides it meant a ride of ten miles further. However, of course he
+would go. He fell to musing over the whip again, and in due time he
+arrived at his own home, a little one-roomed shanty with a chimney at
+the back and four big windows. At the extreme end of the fenced
+enclosure about the structure was a little shed for Billy, and all about
+was the vast plain dotted with bushes and weeds, with its panorama of
+mountain and hill, valley and gorge. It was beautiful, but it was
+desolate. There were neighbours, a few, but they lived at magnificent
+distances.
+
+"We ought to have a dog, Billy! Why don't we get a dog to welcome us
+home?" said Brownleigh, slapping the horse's neck affectionately as he
+sprang from the saddle; "but then a dog would go along with us, wouldn't
+he, so there'd be three of us to come home instead of two, and that
+wouldn't do any good. Chickens? How would that do? But the coyotes would
+steal them. I guess we'll have to get along with each other, old
+fellow."
+
+The horse, relieved of his saddle, gave a shake of comfort as a man
+might stretch himself after a weary journey, and trotted into his shed.
+Brownleigh made him comfortable and turned to go to the house.
+
+As he walked along by the fence he caught sight of a small dark object
+hanging on a sage-bush a short distance from the front of his house. It
+seemed to move slightly, and he stopped and watched it a second thinking
+it might be some animal caught in the bush, or in hiding. It seemed to
+stir again as objects watched intently often will, and springing over
+the rail fence Brownleigh went to investigate. Nothing in that country
+was left to uncertainty. Men liked to know what was about them.
+
+As he neared the bush, however, the object took on a tangible form and
+colour, and coming closer he picked it up and turned it over clumsily in
+his hand. A little velvet riding cap, undoubtedly a lady's, with the
+name of a famous New York costumer wrought in silk letters in the
+lining. Yes, there was no question about its being a lady's cap, for a
+long gleaming golden hair, with an undoubted tendency to curl, still
+clung to the velvet. A sudden embarrassment filled him, as though he had
+been handling too intimately another's property unawares. He raised his
+eyes and shaded them with his hand to look across the landscape, if
+perchance the owner might be at hand, though even as he did so he felt a
+conviction that the little velvet cap belonged to the owner of the whip
+which he still held in his other hand. H. R. Where was H. R., and who
+could she be?
+
+For some minutes he stood thinking it out, locating the exact spot in
+his memory where he had found the whip. It had not been on any regular
+trail. That was strange. He stooped to see if there were any further
+evidences of passers-by, but the slight breeze had softly covered all
+definite marks. He was satisfied, however, after examining the ground
+about for some distance either way, that there could have been but one
+horse. He was wise in the lore of the trail. By certain little things
+that he saw or did not see he came to this conclusion.
+
+Just as he was turning to go back to his cabin he came to a halt again
+with an exclamation of wonder, for there close at his feet, half hidden
+under a bit of sage, lay a small shell comb. He stooped and picked it up
+in triumph.
+
+"I declare, I have quite a collection," he said aloud. "Are there any
+more? By these tokens I may be able to find her after all." And he
+started with a definite purpose and searched the ground for several rods
+ahead, then going back and taking a slightly different direction, he
+searched again and yet again, looking back each time to get his bearings
+from the direction where he had found the whip, arguing that the horse
+must likely have taken a pretty straight line and gone at a rapid pace.
+
+He was rewarded at last by finding two shell hairpins, and near them a
+single hoof print, that, sheltered by a heavy growth of sage, had
+escaped the obliteration of the wind. This he knelt and studied
+carefully, taking in all the details of size and shape and direction;
+then, finding no more hairpins or combs, he carefully put his booty into
+his pocket and hurried back to the cabin, his brow knit in deep
+thought.
+
+"Father, is this Thy leading?" He paused at the door and looked up. He
+opened the door and stepped within. The restfulness of the place called
+to him to stay.
+
+There was the wide fireplace with a fire laid all ready for the touch of
+a match that would bring the pleasant blaze to dispel the loneliness of
+the place. There was the easy chair, his one luxury, with its leather
+cushions and reclining back; his slippers on the floor close by; the
+little table with its well-trimmed student lamp, his college paper and
+the one magazine that kept him in touch with the world freshly arrived
+before he left for his recent trip, and still unopened. How they called
+to him! Yet when he laid the whip upon the magazine the slanting ray of
+sun that entered by the door caught the glory of the topaz and sent it
+scintillating, and somehow the magazine lost its power to hold him.
+
+One by one he laid his trophies down beside the whip; the velvet cap,
+the hairpins and the little comb, and then stood back startled with the
+wonder of it and looked about his bachelor quarters.
+
+It was a pleasant spot, far lovelier than its weather-stained exterior
+would lead one to suppose. A Navajo blanket hung upon one wall above
+the bed, and another enwrapped and completely covered the bed itself,
+making a spot of colour in the room, and giving an air of luxury. Two
+quaint rugs of Indian workmanship upon the floor, one in front of the
+bed, the other before the fireplace where one's feet would rest when
+sitting in the big chair, did much to hide the discrepancies of the ugly
+floor. A rough set of shelves at the side of the fireplace handy to
+reach from the easy chair were filled with treasures of great minds, the
+books he loved well, all he could afford to bring with him, a few
+commentaries, not many, an encyclopedia, a little biography, a few
+classics, botany, biology, astronomy and a much worn Bible. On the wall
+above was a large card catalogue of Indian words; and around the room
+were some of his own pencil drawings of plants and animals.
+
+Over in the opposite end of the room from the bed was a table covered
+with white oilcloth; and on the wall behind, the cupboard which held his
+dishes, and his stock of provisions. It was a pleasant spot and well
+ordered, for he never liked to leave his quarters in disarray lest some
+one might enter during his absence, or come back with him. Besides, it
+was pleasanter so to return to it. A rough closet of goodly proportions
+held his clothes, his trunk, and any other stores.
+
+He stood and looked about it now and then let his eyes travel back to
+those small feminine articles on the little table beside him. It gave
+him a strange sensation. What if they belonged there? What if the owner
+of them lived there, was coming in in a minute now to meet him? How
+would it seem? What would she be like? For just an instant he let
+himself dream, and reaching out touched the velvet of the cap, then took
+it in his hand and smoothed its silken surface. A faint perfume of
+another world seemed to steal from its texture, and to linger on his
+hands. He drew a breath of wonder and laid it down; then with a start he
+came to himself. Suppose she did belong, and were out somewhere and he
+did not know where? Suppose something had happened to her--the horse run
+away, thrown her somewhere perhaps,--or she might have strayed away from
+a camp and lost her way--or been frightened?
+
+These might be all foolish fantasies of a weary brain, but the man knew
+he could not rest until he had at least made an attempt to find out. He
+sank down in the big chair for a moment to think it out and closed his
+eyes, making swift plans.
+
+Billy must have a chance to rest a little; a fagged horse could not
+accomplish much if the journey were far and the need for haste. He could
+not go for an hour yet. And there would be preparations to make. He must
+repack the saddle-bags with feed for Billy, food for himself and a
+possible stranger, restoratives, and a simple remedy or two in case of
+accident. These were articles he always took with him on long journeys.
+He considered taking his camping tent but that would mean the wagon, and
+they could not go so rapidly with that. He must not load Billy heavily,
+after the miles he had already come. But he could take a bit of canvas
+strapped to the saddle, and a small blanket. Of course it might be but a
+wild goose chase after all--yet he could not let his impression go
+unheeded.
+
+Then there was the fort. In case he found the lady and restored her
+property in time he might be able to reach the fort by evening. He must
+take that into consideration also.
+
+With alacrity he arose and went about his preparations, soon having his
+small baggage in array. His own toilet came next. A bath and fresh
+clothing; then, clean shaven and ready, all but his coat, he flung
+himself upon his bed for ten minutes of absolute relaxation, after which
+he felt himself quite fit for the expedition. Springing up he put on
+coat and hat, gathered up with reverent touch the bits of things he had
+found, locked his cabin and went out to Billy, a lump of sugar in his
+hand.
+
+"Billy, old fellow, we're under orders to march again," he said
+apologetically, and Billy answered with a neigh of pleasure, submitting
+to the saddle as though he were quite ready for anything required of
+him.
+
+"Now, Father," said the missionary with his upward look, "show us the
+way."
+
+So, taking the direction from the hoof print in the sand, Billy and his
+master sped away once more into the westering light of the desert
+towards the long black shadowed entrance of the canyon.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE DESERT
+
+
+Hazel, as she was borne along, her lovely hair streaming in the wind and
+lashing her across the face and eyes now and again, breath coming
+painfully, eyes smarting, fingers aching in the vise-like hold she was
+compelled to keep upon the saddle, began to wonder just how long she
+could hold out. It seemed to her it was a matter of minutes only when
+she must let go and be whirled into space while the tempestuous steed
+sped on and left her.
+
+Nothing like this motion had ever come into her experience before. She
+had been run away with once, but that was like a cradle to this tornado
+of motion. She had been frightened before, but never like this. The
+blood pounded in her head and eyes until it seemed it would burst forth,
+and now and again the surging of it through her ears gave the sensation
+of drowning, yet on and on she went. It was horrible to have no bridle,
+and nothing to say about where she should go, no chance to control her
+horse. It was like being on an express train with the engineer dead in
+his cab and no way to get to the brakes. They must stop some time and
+what then? Death seemed inevitable, and yet as the mad rush continued
+she almost wished it might come and end the horror of this ride.
+
+It seemed hours before she began to realize that the horse was no longer
+going at quite such a breakneck speed, or else she was growing
+accustomed to the motion and getting her breath, she could not quite be
+sure which. But little by little she perceived that the mad flying had
+settled into a long lope. The pony evidently had no intention of
+stopping and it was plain that he had some distinct place in mind to
+which he was going as straight and determinedly as any human being ever
+laid out a course and forged ahead in it. There was that about his whole
+beastly contour that showed it was perfectly useless to try to deter him
+from it or to turn him aside.
+
+When her breath came less painfully, Hazel made a fitful little attempt
+to drop a quiet word of reason into his ear.
+
+"Nice pony, nice, good pony----!" she soothed, but the wind caught her
+voice and flung it aside as it had flung her cap a few moments before,
+and the pony only laid his ears back and fled stolidly on.
+
+She gathered her forces again.
+
+"Nice pony! Whoa, sir!" she cried, a little louder than the last time
+and trying to make her voice sound firm and commanding.
+
+But the pony had no intention of "whoa-ing," and though she repeated the
+command many times, her voice growing each time more firm and normal, he
+only showed the whites of his eyes at her and continued doggedly on his
+way.
+
+She saw it was useless; and the tears, usually with her under fine
+control, came streaming down her white cheeks.
+
+"Pony, good horse, _dear_ pony, won't you stop!" she cried and her words
+ended with a sob. But still the pony kept on.
+
+The desert fled about her yet seemed to grow no shorter ahead, and the
+dark line of cloud mystery, with the towering mountains beyond, were no
+nearer than when she first started. It seemed much like riding on a
+rocking-horse, one never got anywhere, only no rocking-horse flew at
+such a speed.
+
+Yet she realized now that the pace was much modified from what it had
+been at first, and the pony's motion was not hard. If she had not been
+so stiff and sore in every joint and muscle with the terrible tension
+she had kept up the riding would not have been at all bad. But she was
+conscious of most terrible weariness, a longing to drop down on the sand
+of the desert and rest, not caring whether she ever went on again or
+not. She had never felt such terrible weariness in her life.
+
+She could hold on now with one hand, and relax the muscles of the other
+a little. She tried with one hand presently to do something with that
+sweeping pennant of hair that lashed her in the face so unexpectedly now
+and then, but could only succeed in twisting it about her neck and
+tucking the ends into the neck of her riding habit; and from this frail
+binding it soon slipped free again.
+
+She was conscious of the heat of the sun on her bare head, the smarting
+of her eyes. The pain in her chest was subsiding, and she could breathe
+freely again, but her heart felt tired, so tired, and she wanted to lie
+down and cry. Would she never get anywhere and be helped?
+
+How soon would her father and brother miss her and come after her? When
+she dared she looked timidly behind, and then again more lingeringly,
+but there was nothing to be seen but the same awful stretch of distance
+with mountains of bright colour in the boundaries everywhere; not a
+living thing but herself and the pony to be seen. It was awful.
+Somewhere between herself and the mountains behind was the place she had
+started from, but the bright sun shone steadily, hotly down and
+shimmered back again from the bright earth, and nothing broke the awful
+repose of the lonely space. It was as if she had suddenly been caught up
+and flung out into a world where was no other living being.
+
+Why did they not come after her? Surely, surely, pretty soon she would
+see them coming. They would spur their horses on when they found she had
+been run away with. Her father and brother would not leave her long in
+this horrible plight.
+
+Then it occurred to her that her father and brother had been for some
+time out of sight ahead before she began her race. They would not know
+she was gone, at once; but of course Mr. Hamar would do something. He
+would not leave her helpless. The habit of years of trusting him assured
+her of that. For the instant she had forgotten the cause of her flight.
+Then suddenly she remembered it with sickening thought. He who had been
+to her a brave fine hero, suffering daily through the carelessness of a
+wife who did not understand him, had stepped down from his pedestal and
+become the lowest of the low. He had dared to kiss her! He had said he
+would marry her--he,--a married man! Her whole soul revolted against him
+again, and now she was glad she had run away--glad the horse had taken
+her so far--glad she had shown him how terrible the whole thing looked
+to her. She was even glad that her father and brother were far away too,
+for the present, until she should adjust herself to life once more. How
+could she have faced them after what happened? How could she ever live
+in the same world with that man again,--that fallen hero? How could she
+ever have thought so much of him? She had almost worshipped him, and had
+been so pleased when he had seemed to enjoy her company, and
+complimented her by telling her she had whiled away a weary hour for
+him! And he? He had been meaning--_this_--all the time! He had looked at
+her with that thought in his mind! Oh--awful degradation!
+
+There was something so revolting in the memory of his voice and face as
+he had told her that she closed her eyes and shuddered as she recalled
+it, and once more the tears went coursing down her cheeks and she sobbed
+aloud, piteously, her head bowing lower and lower over the pony's neck,
+her bright hair falling down about her shoulders and beating against the
+animal's breast and knees as he ran, her stiffened fingers clutching his
+mane to keep her balance, her whole weary little form drooping over his
+neck in a growing exhaustion, her entire being swept by alternate waves
+of anger, revulsion and fear.
+
+Perhaps all this had its effect on the beast; perhaps somewhere in his
+make-up there lay a spot, call it instinct or what you please, that
+vibrated in response to the distress of the human creature he carried.
+Perhaps the fact that she was in trouble drew his sympathy, wicked
+little willful imp though he usually was. Certain it is that he began to
+slacken his pace decidedly, until at last he was walking, and finally
+stopped short and turned his head about with a troubled neigh as if to
+ask her what was the matter.
+
+The sudden cessation of the motion almost threw her from her seat; and
+with new fear gripping her heart she clutched the pony's mane the
+tighter and looked about her trembling. She was conscious more than
+anything else of the vast spaces about her in every direction, of the
+loneliness of the spot, and her own desolate condition. She had wanted
+the horse to stop and let her get down to solid ground, and now that he
+had done so and she might dismount a great horror filled her and she
+dared not. But with the lessening of the need for keeping up the tense
+strain of nerve and muscle, she suddenly began to feel that she could
+not sit up any longer, that she must lie down, let go this awful strain,
+stop this uncontrollable trembling which was quivering all over her
+body.
+
+The pony, too, seemed wondering, impatient that she did not dismount at
+once. He turned his nose towards her again with a questioning snuff and
+snort, and showed the wicked whites of his eyes in wild perplexity. Then
+a panic seized her. What if he should start to run again? She would
+surely be thrown this time, for her strength was almost gone. She must
+get down and in some way gain possession of the bridle. With the bridle
+she might perhaps hope to guide his movements, and make further wild
+riding impossible.
+
+Slowly, painfully, guardedly, she took her foot from the stirrup and
+slipped to the ground. Her cramped feet refused to hold her weight for
+the moment and she tottered and went into a little heap on the ground.
+The pony, feeling his duty for the present done, sidled away from her
+and began cropping the grass hungrily.
+
+The girl sank down wearily at full length upon the ground and for a
+moment it seemed to her she could never rise again. She was too weary to
+lift her hand or to move the foot that was twisted under her into a more
+comfortable position, too weary to even think. Then suddenly the sound
+of the animal moving steadily away from her roused her to the necessity
+of securing him. If he should get away in this wide desolation she would
+be helpless indeed.
+
+She gathered her flagging energy and got painfully upon her feet. The
+horse was nearly a rod away, and moving slowly, steadily, as he ate,
+with now and then a restless lifting of his head to look off into the
+distance and take a few determined steps before he stopped for another
+bite. That horse had something on his mind and was going straight
+towards it. She felt that he cared little what became of her. She must
+look out for herself. This was something she had never had to do before;
+but the instinct came with the need.
+
+Slowly, tremblingly, feeling her weakness, she stole towards him, a
+bunch of grass in her hand she had plucked as she came, holding it
+obviously as she had fed a lump of sugar or an apple to her finely
+groomed mare in New York. But the grass she held was like all the grass
+about him, and the pony had not been raised a pet. He tossed his nose
+energetically and scornfully as she drew near and hastened on a pace or
+two.
+
+Cautiously she came on again talking to him gently, pleadingly,
+complimentarily: "Nice good horsey! Pretty pony so he was!" But he only
+edged away again.
+
+And so they went on for some little way until Hazel almost despaired of
+catching him at all, and was becoming more and more aware of the
+vastness of the universe about her, and the smallness of her own being.
+
+At last, however, her fingers touched the bridle, she felt the pony's
+quick jerk, strained every muscle to hold on, and found she had
+conquered. He was in her hands. For how long was a question, for he was
+strong enough to walk away and drag her by the bridle perhaps, and she
+knew little about tricks of management. Moreover her muscles were so
+flabby and sore with the long ride that she was ill-fitted to cope with
+the wise and wicked little beast. She dreaded to get upon his back
+again, and doubted if she could if she tried, but it seemed the only way
+to get anywhere, or to keep company with the pony, for she could not
+hope to detain him by mere physical force if he decided otherwise.
+
+She stood beside him for a moment, looking about her over the wide
+distance. Everything looked alike, and different from anything she had
+ever seen before. She must certainly get on that pony's back, for her
+fear of the desert became constantly greater. It was almost as if it
+would snatch her away in a moment more if she stayed there longer, and
+carry her into vaster realms of space where her soul would be lost in
+infinitude. She had never been possessed by any such feeling before and
+it frightened her unreasoningly.
+
+Turning to the pony, she measured the space from the ground to the queer
+saddle and wondered how people mounted such things without a groom. When
+she had mounted that morning it had been Milton Hamar's strong arm that
+swung her into the saddle, and his hand that held her foot for the
+instant of her spring. The memory of it now sent a shudder of dislike
+over her whole body. If she had known, he never should have touched
+her! The blood mounted uncomfortably into her tired face, and made her
+conscious of the heat of the day, and of a burning thirst. She must go
+on and get to some water somewhere. She could not stand this much
+longer.
+
+Carefully securing the bridle over her arm she reached up and took hold
+of the saddle, doubtfully at first, and then desperately; tried to reach
+the stirrup with one foot, failed and tried again; and then wildly
+struggling, jumping, kicking, she vainly sought to climb back to the
+saddle. But the pony was not accustomed to such a demonstration at
+mounting and he strongly objected. Tossing his head he reared and dashed
+off, almost throwing the girl to the ground and frightening her
+terribly.
+
+Nevertheless the desperation of her situation gave her strength for a
+fresh trial, and she struggled up again, and almost gained her seat,
+when the pony began a series of circles which threw her down and made
+her dizzy with trying to keep up with him.
+
+Thus they played the desperate game for half an hour more. Twice the
+girl lost the bridle and had to get it again by stealthy wiles, and once
+she was almost on the point of giving up, so utterly exhausted was she.
+
+But the pony was thirsty too, and he must have decided that the quickest
+way to water would be to let her mount; for finally with lifted head he
+stood stock still and let her struggle up his side; and at last,
+well-nigh falling from sheer weariness, she sat astonished that she had
+accomplished it. She was on his back, and she would never dare to get
+down again, she thought, until she got somewhere to safety. But now the
+animal, his courage renewed by the bite he had taken, started snorting
+off at a rapid pace once more, very nearly upsetting his rider at the
+start, and almost losing her the bridle once more. She sat trembling,
+and gripping bridle and saddle for some time, having enough to do to
+keep her seat without trying to direct her bearer, and then she saw
+before her a sudden descent, steep but not very long, and at its bottom
+a great puddle of dirty water. The pony paused only an instant on the
+brink and then began the descent. The girl cried out with fear, but
+managed to keep her seat, and the impatient animal was soon ankle deep
+in the water drinking long and blissfully.
+
+Hazel sat looking in dismay about her. The water-hole seemed to be
+entirely surrounded by steep banks like that they had descended, and
+there was no way out except to return. Could the horse climb up with her
+on his back? And could she keep her seat? She grew cold with fear at the
+thought, for all her riding experience had been on the level, and she
+had become more and more conscious of her flagging strength.
+
+Besides, the growing thirst was becoming awful. Oh, for just one drop of
+that water that the pony was enjoying! Black and dirty as it was she
+felt she could drink it. But it was out of her reach and she dared not
+get down. Suddenly a thought came to her. She would wet her handkerchief
+and moisten her lips with that. If she stooped over quite carefully she
+might be able to let it down far enough to touch the water.
+
+She pulled the small bit of linen from the tiny pocket of her habit and
+the pony, as if to help her, waded into the water farther until her
+skirt almost touched it. Now she found that by putting her arm about the
+pony's neck she could dip most of her handkerchief in the water, and
+dirty as it was it was most refreshing to bathe her face and hands and
+wrists and moisten her lips.
+
+But the pony when he had his fill had no mind to tarry, and with a
+splash, a plunge and a wallow that gave the girl an unexpected shower
+bath, he picked his way out of the hole and up the rocky side of the
+descent, while she clung frightened to the saddle and wondered if she
+could possibly hang on until they were up on the mesa again. The dainty
+handkerchief dropped in the flight floated pitifully on the muddy water,
+another bit of comfort left behind.
+
+But when they were up and away again, what with the fright, and the fact
+that they had come out of the hole on the opposite side from that which
+they had entered it, the girl had lost all sense of direction, and
+everywhere stretched away one vast emptiness edged with mountains that
+stood out clear, cold and unfriendly.
+
+The whole atmosphere of the earth seemed to have changed while they were
+down at the drinking hole, for now the shadows were long and had almost
+a menacing attitude as they crept along or leaped sideways after the
+travellers. Hazel noticed with a startled glance at the sky that the sun
+was low and would soon be down. And that of course where the sun hung
+like a great burning opal must be the west, but that told her nothing,
+for the sun had been high in the heavens when they had started, and she
+had taken no note of direction. East, west, north or south were all one
+to her in her happy care-free life that she had hitherto led. She tried
+to puzzle it out and remember which way they had turned from the
+railroad but grew more bewildered, and the brilliant display in the west
+flamed alarmingly as she realized that night was coming on and she was
+lost on a great desert with only a wild tired little pony for company,
+hungry and thirsty and weary beyond anything she had ever dreamed
+before.
+
+They had been going down into a broad valley for some little time, which
+made the night seem even nearer. Hazel would have turned her horse back
+and tried to retrace her steps, but that he would not, for try as she
+might, and turn him as she would he circled about and soon was in the
+same course again, so that now the tired hands could only hold the reins
+stiffly and submit to be carried where the pony willed. It was quite
+evident he had a destination in view, and knew the way thereto. Hazel
+had read of the instinct of animals. She began to hope that he would
+presently bring her to a human habitation where she would find help to
+get to her father once more.
+
+But suddenly even the glory of the dying sun was lost as the horse
+entered the dimness of the canyon opening, whose high walls of red
+stone, rising solemnly on either hand, were serrated here and there with
+long transverse lines of grasses and tree-ferns growing in the crevices,
+and higher up appeared the black openings of caves mysterious and
+fearsome in the twilight gloom. The way ahead loomed darkly. Somewhere
+from out the memories of her childhood came a phrase from the
+church-service to which she had never given conscious attention, but
+which flashed vividly to mind now: "Though I walk through the valley of
+the shadow--the Valley of the Shadow!" Surely this must be it. She
+wished she could remember the rest of it. What could it have meant? She
+shivered visibly, and looked about her with wild eyes.
+
+The cottonwoods and oaks grew thickly at the base of the cliffs, almost
+concealing them sometimes, and above the walls rose dark and towering.
+The way was rough and slippery, filled with great boulders and rocks,
+around which the pony picked his way without regard to the branches of
+trees that swept her face and caught in her long hair as they went by.
+
+Vainly she strove to guide him back, but he turned only to whirl again,
+determinedly. Somewhere in the deep gloom ahead he had a destination
+and no mere girl was to deter him from reaching it as soon as possible.
+It was plain to his horse-mind that his rider did not know what she
+wanted, and he did, so there were no two ways about it. He intended to
+go back to his old master as straight and as fast as he could get there.
+This canyon was the shortest cut and through this canyon he meant to
+walk whether she liked it or not.
+
+Further and further into the gloom they penetrated, and the girl,
+frenzied with fear, cried out with the wild hope that some one might be
+near and come to her rescue. But the gloomy aisle of the canyon caught
+up her voice and echoed it far and high, until it came back to her in a
+volume of sepulchral sound that filled her with a nameless dread and
+made her fear to open her lips again. It was as if she had by her cry
+awakened the evil spirit who inhabited the canyon and set it searching
+for the intruder. "Help! Help!" How the words rolled and returned upon
+her trembling senses until she quaked and quivered with their echoes!
+
+On went the pony into the deepening shadows, and each moment the
+darkness shut down more impenetrably, until the girl could only close
+her eyes, lower her head as much as possible to escape the branches--and
+pray.
+
+Then suddenly, from above where the distant sky gave a line of light and
+a single star had appeared to pierce the dusk like a great jewel on a
+lady's gown, there arose a sound; blood-curdling and hideous, high,
+hollow, far-echoing, chilling her soul with horror and causing her heart
+to stand still with fear. She had heard it once before, a night or two
+ago, when their train had stopped in a wide desert for water or repairs
+or something and the porter of the car had told her it was coyotes. It
+had been distant then, and weird and interesting to think of being so
+near real live wild animals. She had peered from the safety of her berth
+behind the silken curtains and fancied she saw shadowy forms steal over
+the plain under the moonlight. But it was a very different thing to hear
+the sound now, out alone among their haunts, with no weapon and none to
+protect her. The awfulness of her situation almost took away her senses.
+
+Still she held to the saddle, weak and trembling, expecting every minute
+to be her last; and the horrid howling of the coyotes continued.
+
+Down below the trail somewhere she could hear the soft trickling of
+water with maddening distinctness now and then. Oh, if she could but
+quench this terrible thirst! The pony was somewhat refreshed with his
+grass and his drink of water, but the girl, whose life up to this day
+had never known a want unsatisfied, was faint with hunger and burning
+with thirst, and this unaccustomed demand upon her strength was fast
+bringing it to its limit.
+
+The darkness in the canyon grew deeper, and more stars clustered out
+overhead; but far, so very far away! The coyotes seemed just a shadow
+removed all about and above. Her senses were swimming. She could not be
+sure just where they were. The horse slipped and stumbled on in the
+darkness, and she forgot to try to turn him from his purpose.
+
+By and by she grew conscious that the way was leading upward again. They
+were scrambling over rough places, large rocks in the way, trees growing
+close to the trail, and the pony seemed not to be able to avoid them, or
+perhaps he didn't care. The howling of the coyotes was growing clearer
+every minute but somehow her fear of them was deadened, as her fear of
+all else. She was lying low upon the pony, clinging to his neck, too
+faint to cry out, too weak to stop the tears that slowly wet his mane.
+Then suddenly she was caught in the embrace of a low hanging branch, her
+hair tangled about its roughness. The pony struggled to gain his
+uncertain footing, the branch held her fast and the pony scrambled on,
+leaving his helpless rider behind him in a little huddled heap upon the
+rocky trail, swept from the saddle by the tough old branch.
+
+The pony stopped a moment upon a bit of shelving rock he had with
+difficulty gained, and looked back with a troubled snort, but the
+huddled heap in the darkness below him gave forth no sign of life, and
+after another snort and a half neigh of warning the pony turned and
+scrambled on, up and up till he gained the mesa above.
+
+The late moon rose and hunted its way through the canyon till it found
+the gold of her hair spread about on the rocky way, and touched her
+sweet unconscious face with the light of cold beauty; the coyotes howled
+on in solemn chorus, and still the little figure lay quiet and
+unconscious of her situation.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE QUEST
+
+
+John Brownleigh reached the water-hole at sunset, and while he waited
+for his horse to drink he meditated on what he would do next. If he
+intended to go to the fort for dinner he should turn at once sharply to
+the right and ride hard, unless he was willing to be late. The lady at
+the fort liked to have her guests on hand promptly, he knew.
+
+The sun was down. It had left long splashes of crimson and gold in the
+west, and their reflection was shimmering over the muddy water below him
+so that Billy looked as if he quaffed the richest wine from a golden
+cup, as he satisfied his thirst contentedly.
+
+But as the missionary watched the painted water and tried to decide his
+course, suddenly his eye caught a bit of white something floating, half
+clinging to a twig at the edge of the water, a bit of thin
+transparentness, with delicate lacy edge. It startled him in that desert
+place much as the jewel in its golden setting in the sand had startled
+him that morning.
+
+With an exclamation of surprise he stooped over, picked up the little
+wet handkerchief and held it out--dainty, white and fine, and in spite
+of its wet condition sending forth its violet breath to the senses of a
+man who had been in the wilds of the desert for three years. It spoke of
+refinement and culture and a world he had left behind him in the East.
+
+There was a tiny letter embroidered in the corner, but already the light
+was growing too dim to read it, and though he held it up and looked
+through it and felt the embroidery with his finger-tip he could not be
+sure that it was either of the letters that had been engraved on the
+whip.
+
+Nevertheless, the little white messenger determined his course. He
+searched the edge of the water-hole for hoof prints as well as the dying
+light would reveal, then mounted Billy with decision at once and took up
+his quest where he had almost abandoned it. He was convinced that a lady
+was out alone in the desert somewhere.
+
+It was long past midnight when Billy and the missionary came upon the
+pony, high on the mesa, grazing. The animal had evidently felt the need
+for food and rest before proceeding further, and was perhaps a little
+uneasy about that huddled form in the darkness he had left.
+
+Billy and the pony were soon hobbled and left to feed together while the
+missionary, all thought of his own need of rest forgotten, began a
+systematic search for the missing rider. He first carefully examined the
+pony and saddle. The saddle somehow reminded him of Shag Bunce, but the
+pony was a stranger to him; neither could he make out the letter of the
+brand in the pale moonlight. However, it might be a new animal, just
+purchased and not yet branded--or there might be a thousand
+explanations. The thought of Shag Bunce reminded him of the handsome
+private car he had seen upon the track that morning. But even if a party
+had gone out to ride how would one of them get separated? Surely no lady
+would venture over the desert alone, not a stranger at any rate.
+
+Still in the silver and black of the shadowed night he searched on, and
+not until the rosy light of dawning began to flush and grow in the east
+did he come to stand at the top of the canyon where he could look down
+and see the girl, her green riding habit blending darkly with the dark
+forms of the trees still in shadow, the gold of her hair glinted with
+the early light, and her white, white face turned upward.
+
+He lost no time in climbing down to her side, dreading what he might
+find. Was she dead? What had happened to her? It was a perilous spot
+where she lay, and the dangers that might have harmed her had been many.
+The sky grew pink, and tinted all the clouds with rose as he knelt
+beside the still form.
+
+A moment served to convince him that she was still alive; even in the
+half darkness he could see the drawn, weary look of her face. Poor
+child! Poor little girl, lost on the desert! He was glad, glad he had
+come to find her.
+
+He gathered her in his strong arms and bore her upward to the light.
+
+Laying her in a sheltered spot he quickly brought water, bathed her face
+and forced a stimulant between the white lips. He chafed her cold little
+hands, blistered with the bridle, gave her more stimulant, and was
+rewarded by seeing a faint colour steal into the lips and cheeks.
+Finally the white lids fluttered open for a second and gave him a
+glimpse of great dark eyes in which was still mirrored the horror and
+fright of the night.
+
+He gave her another draught, and hastened to prepare a more comfortable
+resting place, bringing the canvas from Billy's pack, and one or two
+other little articles that might make for comfort, among them a small
+hot water bottle. When he had her settled on the canvas with sweet ferns
+and grass underneath for a pillow and his own blanket spread over her he
+set about gathering wood for a fire, and soon he had water boiling in
+his tin cup, enough to fill the rubber bottle. When he put it in her
+cold hands she opened her eyes again wonderingly. He smiled reassuringly
+and she nestled down contentedly with the comfort of the warmth. She was
+too weary to question or know aught save that relief from a terrible
+horror was come at last.
+
+The next time he came to her it was with a cup of strong beef tea which
+he held to her lips and coaxed her to swallow. When it was finished she
+lay back 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
+heavy strain, but still growing steadier on the whole. She was doing
+well to sleep. It was better than any medicine he could administer.
+
+Meantime, he must keep a sharp lookout for travellers. They were quite
+off the trail here, and the trail was an old one anyway and almost
+disused. There was little likelihood of many passers. It might be days
+before any one came that way. There was no human habitation within call,
+and he dared not leave his charge to go in search of help to carry her
+back to civilization again. He must just wait here till she was able to
+travel.
+
+It occurred to him to wonder where she belonged and how she came to be
+thus alone, and whether it was not altogether probable that a party of
+searchers might be out soon with some kind of a conveyance to carry her
+home. He must keep a sharp lookout and signal any passing rider.
+
+To this end he moved away from the sleeping girl as far as he dared
+leave her, and uttered a long, clear call occasionally, but no answer
+came.
+
+He dared not use his rifle for signalling lest he run out of ammunition
+which he might need before he got back with his charge. However, he felt
+it wise to combine hunting with signalling, and when a rabbit hurried
+across his path not far away he shot it, and the sound echoed out in the
+clear morning, but no answering signal came.
+
+After he had shot two rabbits and dressed them ready for dinner when his
+guest should wake, he replenished the fire, set the rabbits to roasting
+on a curious little device of his own, and lay down on the opposite side
+of the fire. He was weary beyond expression himself, but he never
+thought of it once. The excitement of the occasion kept him up. He lay
+still marvelling at the strangeness of his position, and wondering what
+would be revealed when the girl should wake. He almost dreaded to have
+her do so lest she should not be as perfect as she looked asleep. His
+heart was in a tumult of wonder over her, and of thankfulness that he
+had found her before some terrible fate had overtaken her.
+
+As he lay there resting, filled with an exalted joy, his mind wandered
+to the longings of the day before, the little adobe home of his
+co-labourer which he had left, its homeyness and joy; his own loneliness
+and longing for companionship. Then he looked shyly towards the tree
+shade where the glint of golden hair and the dark line of his blanket
+were all he could see of the girl he had found in the wilderness. What
+if his Father had answered his prayer and sent her to him! What miracle
+of joy! A thrill of tenderness passed through him and he pressed his
+hands over his closed eyes in a kind of ecstasy.
+
+What foolishness! Dreams, of course! He tried to sober himself but he
+could not keep from thinking how it would seem to have this lovely girl
+enthroned in his little shack, ready to share his joys and comfort his
+sorrows; to be beloved and guarded and tenderly cared for by him.
+
+A stir of the old blanket and a softly drawn sigh brought this delicious
+reverie to a close, and himself to his feet flushing cold and hot at
+thought of facing her awake.
+
+She had turned over towards him slightly, her cheeks flushed with sleep.
+One hand was thrown back over her head, and the sun caught and flashed
+the sparkle of jewels into his eyes, great glory-clear gems like drops
+of morning dew when the sun is new upon them, and the flash of the
+jewels told him once more what he had known before, that here was a
+daughter of another world than his. They seemed to hurt him as he
+looked, those costly gems, for they pierced to his heart and told him
+they were set on a wall of separation which might rise forever between
+her and himself.
+
+Then suddenly he came to himself and was the missionary again, with his
+senses all on the alert, and a keen realization that it was high noon
+and his patient was waking up. He must have slept himself although he
+thought he had been broad awake all the time. The hour had come for
+action and he must put aside the foolish thoughts that had crowded in
+when his weary brain was unable to cope with the cool facts of life. Of
+course all this was stuff and nonsense that he had been dreaming. He
+must do his duty by this needy one now.
+
+Stepping softly he brought a cup of water that he had placed in the
+shade to keep cool, and stood beside the girl, speaking quietly, as
+though he had been her nurse for years.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a drink of water?" he asked.
+
+The girl opened her eyes and looked up at him bewildered.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said eagerly, though her voice was very weak. "Oh,
+yes,--I'm so thirsty.--I thought we never would get anywhere!"
+
+She let him lift her head, and drank eagerly, then sank back exhausted
+and closed her eyes. He almost thought she was going to sleep again.
+
+"Wouldn't you like something to eat?" he asked. "Dinner is almost ready.
+Do you think you can sit up to eat or would you rather lie still?"
+
+"Dinner!" she said languidly; "but I thought it was night. Did I dream
+it all, and how did I get here? I don't remember this place."
+
+She looked around curiously and then closed her eyes as if the effort
+were almost too much.
+
+"Oh, I feel so queer and tired, as if I never wanted to move again," she
+murmured.
+
+"Don't move," he commanded. "Wait until you've had something to eat.
+I'll bring it at once."
+
+He brought a cup of steaming hot beef extract with little broken bits of
+biscuit from a small tin box in the pack, and fed it to her a spoonful
+at a time.
+
+"Who are you?" she asked as she swallowed the last spoonful, and opened
+her eyes, which had been closed most of the time, while he fed her, as
+if she were too tired to keep them open.
+
+"Oh, I'm just the missionary. Brownleigh's my name. Now don't talk until
+you've had the rest of your dinner. I'll bring it in a minute. I want to
+make you a cup of tea, but you see I have to wash this cup first. The
+supply of dishes is limited." His genial smile and hearty words
+reassured her and she smiled and submitted.
+
+"A missionary!" she mused and opened her eyes furtively to watch him as
+he went about his task. A missionary! She had never seen a missionary
+before, to her knowledge. She had fancied them always quite a different
+species, plain old maids with hair tightly drawn behind their ears and a
+poke bonnet with little white lawn strings.
+
+This was a man, young, strong, engaging, and handsome as a fine piece of
+bronze. The brown flannel shirt he wore fitted easily over well knit
+muscles and exactly matched the brown of the abundant wavy hair in which
+the morning sun was setting glints of gold as he knelt before the fire
+and deftly completed his cookery. His soft wide-brimmed felt hat pushed
+far back on the head, the corduroy trousers, leather chaps and belt with
+brace of pistols all fitted into the picture and made the girl feel that
+she had suddenly left the earth where she had heretofore lived and been
+dropped into an unknown land with a strong kind angel to look after her.
+
+A missionary! Then of course she needn't be afraid of him. As she
+studied his face she knew that she couldn't possibly have been afraid of
+that face anyway, unless, perhaps, she had ventured to disobey its
+owner's orders. He had a strong, firm chin, and his lips though kindly
+in their curve looked decided as though they were not to be trifled
+with. On the whole if this was a missionary then she must change her
+ideas of missionaries from this time forth.
+
+She watched his light, free movements, now sitting back upon his heels
+to hold the cup of boiling water over the blaze by a curiously contrived
+handle, now rising and going to the saddle pack for some needed article.
+There was something graceful as well as powerful about his every motion.
+He gave one a sense of strength and almost infinite resource. Then
+suddenly her imagination conjured there beside him the man from whom she
+had fled, and in the light of this fine face the other face darkened and
+weakened and she had a swift revelation of his true character, and
+wondered that she had never known before. A shudder passed over her, and
+a gray pallor came into her face at the memory. She felt a great
+distaste for thinking or the necessity for even living at that moment.
+
+Then at once he was beside her with a tin plate and the cup of steaming
+tea, and began to feed her, as if she had been a baby, roast rabbit and
+toasted corn bread. She ate unquestioningly, and drank her tea, finding
+all delicious after her long fast, and gaining new strength with every
+mouthful.
+
+"How did I get here?" she asked suddenly, rising to one elbow and
+looking around. "I don't seem to remember a place like this."
+
+"I found you hanging on a bush in the moonlight," he said gravely, "and
+brought you here."
+
+Hazel lay back and reflected on this. He had brought her here. Then he
+must have carried her! Well, his arms looked strong enough to lift a
+heavier person than herself--but he had brought her here!
+
+A faint colour stole into her pale cheeks.
+
+"Thank you," she said at last. "I suppose I wasn't just able to come
+myself." There was a droll little pucker at the corner of her mouth.
+
+"Not exactly," he answered as he gathered up the dishes.
+
+"I remember that crazy little steed of mine began to climb straight up
+the side of a terrible wall in the dark, and finally decided to wipe me
+off with a tree. That is the last I can recall. I felt myself slipping
+and couldn't hold on any longer. Then it all got dark and I let go."
+
+"Where were you going?" asked the young man.
+
+"Going? I wasn't going anywhere," said the girl; "the pony was doing
+that. He was running away, I suppose. He ran miles and hours with me and
+I couldn't stop him. I lost hold on the bridle, you see, and he had
+ideas about what he wanted to do. I was almost frightened to death, and
+there wasn't a soul in sight all day. I never saw such an empty place in
+my life. It can't be this is still Arizona, we came so far."
+
+"When did you start?" the missionary questioned gravely.
+
+"Why, this morning,--that is--why, it must have been yesterday. I'm sure
+I don't know when. It was Wednesday morning about eleven o'clock that we
+left the car on horseback to visit a mine papa had heard about. It seems
+about a year since we started."
+
+"How many were in your party?" asked the young man.
+
+"Just papa and my brother, and Mr. Hamar, a friend of my father's,"
+answered the girl, her cheeks reddening at the memory of the name.
+
+"But was there no guide, no native with you at all?" There was anxiety
+in the young man's tone. He had visions of other lost people who would
+have to be looked after.
+
+"Oh, yes, there was the man my father had written to, who brought the
+horses, and two or three men with him, some of them Indians, I think.
+His name was Bunce, Mr. Bunce. He was a queer man with a lot of wild
+looking hair."
+
+"Shag Bunce," said the missionary thoughtfully. "But if Shag was along I
+cannot understand how you came to get so widely separated from your
+party. He rides the fastest horse in this region. No pony of his outfit,
+be he ever so fleet, could get far ahead of Shag Bunce. He would have
+caught you within a few minutes. What happened? Was there an accident?"
+
+He looked at her keenly, feeling sure there was some mystery behind her
+wanderings that he ought to unravel for the sake of the girl and her
+friends. Hazel's cheeks grew rosy.
+
+"Why, nothing really happened," she said evasively. "Mr. Bunce was ahead
+with my father. In fact he was out of sight when my pony started to run.
+I was riding with Mr. Hamar, and as we didn't care anything about the
+mine we didn't hurry. Before we realized it the others were far ahead
+over a hill or something, I forget what was ahead, only they couldn't be
+seen. Then we--I--that is--well, I must have touched my pony pretty hard
+with my whip and he wheeled and started to run. I'm not sure but I
+touched Mr. Hamar's horse, too, and he was behaving badly. I really
+hadn't time to see. I don't know what became of Mr. Hamar. He isn't much
+of a horseman. I don't believe he had ever ridden before. He may have
+had some trouble with his horse. Anyway before I knew it I was out of
+sight of everything but wide empty stretches with mountains and clouds
+at the end everywhere, and going on and on and not getting any nearer to
+any thing."
+
+"This Mr. Hamar must have been a fool not to have given an alarm to your
+friends at once if he could do nothing himself," said Brownleigh
+sternly. "I cannot understand how it could happen that no one found you
+sooner. It was the merest chance that I came upon your whip and other
+little things and so grew anxious lest some one was lost. It is very
+strange that no one found you before this. Your father will have been
+very anxious."
+
+Hazel sat up with flaming cheeks and began to gather her hair in a knot.
+A sudden realization of her position had come upon her and given her
+strength.
+
+"Well, you see," she stumbled, trying to explain without telling
+anything, "Mr. Hamar might have thought I had gone back to the car, or
+he might have thought I would turn back in a few minutes. I do not think
+he would have wanted to follow me just then. I was--angry with him!"
+
+The young missionary looked at the beautiful girl sitting upright on the
+canvas he had spread for her bed, trying vainly to reduce her bright
+hair to something like order, her cheeks glowing, her eyes shining now,
+half with anger, half with embarrassment, and for a second he pitied the
+one who had incurred her wrath. A strange unreasoning anger towards the
+unknown man took possession of him, and his face grew tender as he
+watched the girl.
+
+"That was no excuse for letting you go alone into the perils of the
+desert," he said severely. "He could not have known. It was impossible
+that he could have understood or he would have risked his life to save
+you from what you have been through. No man could do otherwise!"
+
+Hazel looked up, surprised at the vehemence of the words, and again the
+contrast between the two men struck her forcibly.
+
+"I am afraid," she murmured looking off towards the distant mountains
+thoughtfully, "that he isn't much of a man."
+
+And somehow the young missionary was relieved to hear her say so. There
+was a moment's embarrassed silence and then Brownleigh began to search
+in his pocket, as he saw the golden coil of hair beginning to slip loose
+from its knot again.
+
+"Will these help you any?" he asked handing out the comb and hairpins he
+had found, a sudden awkwardness coming upon him.
+
+"Oh, my own comb!" she exclaimed. "And hairpins! Where did you find
+them? Indeed they will help," and she seized upon them eagerly.
+
+He turned away embarrassed, marvelling at the touch of her fingers as
+she took the bits of shell from his hand. No woman's hand like that had
+touched his own, even in greeting, since he bade good-bye to his invalid
+mother and came out to these wilds to do his work. It thrilled him to
+the very soul and he was minded of the sweet awe that had come upon him
+in his own cabin as he looked upon the little articles of woman's toilet
+lying upon his table as if they were at home. He could not understand
+his own mood. It seemed like weakness. He turned aside and frowned at
+himself for his foolish sentimentality towards a stranger whom he had
+found upon the desert. He laid it to the weariness of the long journey
+and the sleepless night.
+
+"I found them in the sand. They showed me the way to find you," he said,
+trying vainly to speak in a commonplace tone. But somehow his voice
+seemed to take on a deep significance. He looked at her shyly, half
+fearing she must feel it, and then murmuring something about looking
+after the horses he hurried away.
+
+When he came back she had mastered the rebellious hair, and it lay
+shining and beautiful, braided and coiled about her shapely head. She
+was standing now, having shaken down and smoothed out the rumpled riding
+habit, and had made herself look quite fresh and lovely in spite of the
+limited toilet conveniences.
+
+He caught his breath as he saw her. The two regarded one another
+intensely for just an instant, each startlingly conscious of the other's
+personality, as men and women will sometimes get a glimpse beyond mere
+body and sight the soul. Each was aware of a thrilling pleasure in the
+presence of the other. It was something new and wonderful that could not
+be expressed nor even put into thoughts as yet but something none the
+less real that flashed along their consciousness like the song of the
+native bird, the scent of the violet, the breath of the morning.
+
+The instant of soul recognition passed and then each recovered
+self-possession, but it was the woman who spoke first.
+
+"I feel very much more respectable," she laughed pleasantly. "Where is
+my vicious little horse? Isn't it time we were getting back?"
+
+Then a cloud of anxiety came over the brightness of the man's face.
+
+"That is what I was coming to tell you," he said in a troubled tone.
+"The wicked little beast has eaten off his hobble and fled. There isn't
+a sight of him to be seen far or wide. He must have cleared out while we
+were at dinner, for he was munching grass peaceably enough before you
+woke up. It was careless of me not to make him more secure. The hobble
+was an old one and worn, but the best I had. I came back to tell you
+that I must ride after him at once. You won't be afraid to stay alone
+for a little while, will you? My horse has had a rest. I think I ought
+to be able to catch him."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+THE TRAIL
+
+
+But the look of horror in the eyes of the girl stopped him.
+
+She gave a quick frightened glance around and then her eyes besought
+him. All the terror of the night alone in the wideness returned upon
+her. She heard again the howl of the coyotes, and saw the long dark
+shadows in the canyon. She was white to the lips with the thought of it.
+
+"Oh, don't leave me alone!" she said trying to speak bravely. "I don't
+feel as if I could stand it. There are wild beasts around"--she glanced
+furtively behind her as if even now one was slyly tracking her--"it was
+awful--awful! Their howls! And it is so alone here!--I never was alone
+before!"
+
+There was that in her appealing helplessness that gave him a wild desire
+to stoop and fold her in his arms and tell her he would never leave her
+while she wanted him. The colour came and went in his fine bronzed face,
+and his eyes grew tender with feeling.
+
+"I won't leave you," he said gently, "not if you feel that way, though
+there is really no danger here in daytime. The wild creatures are very
+shy and only show themselves at night. But if I do not find your horse
+how are you to get speedily back to your friends? It is a long distance
+you have come, and you could not ride alone."
+
+Her face grew troubled.
+
+"Couldn't I walk?" she suggested. "I'm a good walker. I've walked five
+miles at once many a time."
+
+"We are at least forty miles from the railroad," he smiled back at her,
+"and the road is rough, over a mountain by the nearest way. Your horse
+must have been determined indeed to take you so far in one day. He is
+evidently a new purchase of Shag's and bent on returning to his native
+heath. Horses do that sometimes. It is their instinct. I'll tell you
+what I'll do. It may be that he has only gone down in the valley to the
+water-hole. There is one not far away, I think. I'll go to the edge of
+the mesa and get a view. If he is not far away you can come with me
+after him. Just sit here and watch me. I'll not go out of your sight or
+hearing, and I'll not be gone five minutes. You'll not be afraid?"
+
+She sat down obediently where he bade her, her eyes large with fear, for
+she dreaded the loneliness of the desert more than any fear that had
+ever visited her before.
+
+"I promise I'll not go beyond your sight and call," he reassured her and
+with a smile turned towards his own horse, and swinging himself into the
+saddle galloped rapidly away to the edge of the mesa.
+
+She watched him riding away, her fears almost forgotten in her
+admiration of him, her heart beating strangely with the memory of his
+smile. The protection of it seemed to linger behind him, and quiet her
+anxiety.
+
+He rode straight to the east, and then more slowly turned and skirted
+the horizon, riding north along the edge of the mesa. She saw him shade
+his eyes with his hand and look away in all directions. At last after a
+prolonged gaze straight north he wheeled his horse and came quickly back
+to her.
+
+His face was grave as he dismounted.
+
+"I've sighted him," he said, "but it's no use. He has three or four
+miles start, and a steep hill climbed. When he reaches the top of the
+next mesa he has a straight course before him, and probably down-hill
+after that. It might take me three or four hours to catch him and it's a
+question if I could do it then. We'll have to dismiss him from our
+arrangements and get along with Billy. Do you feel equal to riding now?
+Or ought you to rest again?"
+
+"Oh, I can ride, but--I cannot take your horse. What will you do?"
+
+"I shall do nicely," he answered smiling again; "only our progress will
+be slower than if we had both horses. What a pity that I had not taken
+off his saddle! It would have been more comfortable for you than this.
+But I was searching so anxiously for the rider that I took little heed
+to the horse except to hastily hobble him. And when I found you you
+needed all my attention. Now I advise you to lie down and rest until I
+get packed up. It won't take me long."
+
+She curled down obediently to rest until he was ready to fold up the
+canvas on which she lay, and watched his easy movements as he put
+together the few articles of the pack, and arranged the saddle for her
+comfort. Then he strode over to her.
+
+"With your permission," he said and stooping picked her up lightly in
+his arms and placed her on the horse.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "but you are not equal to the exertion of
+mounting in the ordinary way. You will need every bit of strength for
+the ride. You are weaker than you realize."
+
+Her laugh rippled out faintly.
+
+"You make me feel like an insignificant baby. I didn't know what was
+happening until you had me here. You must have the strength of a giant.
+I never felt so little before."
+
+"You are not a heavy burden," he said smiling. "Now are you quite
+comfortable? If so we'll start."
+
+Billy arched his neck and turned his head proudly to survey his new
+rider, a look of friendliness on his bay face and in his kindly eye.
+
+"Oh, isn't he a beauty!" exclaimed the girl reaching out a timid hand to
+pat his neck. The horse bowed and almost seemed to smile. Brownleigh
+noticed the gleam of a splendid jewel on the little hand.
+
+"Billy is my good friend and constant companion," said the missionary.
+"We've faced some long, hard days together. He is wanting me to tell you
+now that he is proud to carry you back to your friends."
+
+Billy bowed up and down and smiled again, and Hazel laughed out with
+pleasure. Then her face grew sober again.
+
+"But you will have to walk," she said. "I cannot take your horse and
+let you walk. I won't do that. I'm going to walk with you."
+
+"And use up what strength you have so that you could not even ride?" he
+said pleasantly. "No, I couldn't allow that, you know, and I am pleased
+to walk with a companion. A missionary's life is pretty lonesome
+sometimes, you know. Come, Billy, we must be starting, for we want to
+make a good ten miles before we stop to rest if our guest can stand the
+journey."
+
+With stately steppings as if he knew he bore a princess Billy started;
+and with long, easy strides Brownleigh walked by his side, ever watchful
+of the way, and furtively observing the face of the girl, whose strength
+he well knew must be extremely limited after her ride of the day before.
+
+Out on the top of the mesa looking off towards the great mountains and
+the wide expanse of seemingly infinite shades and colourings Hazel drew
+her breath in wonder at the beauty of the scene. Her companion called
+her attention to this and that point of interest. The slender dark line
+across the plain was mesquite. He told her how when once they had
+entered it it would seem to spread out vastly as though it filled the
+whole valley, and that then looking back the grassy slope below them
+would seem to be an insignificant streak of yellow. He told her it was
+always so in this land, that the kind of landscape through which one was
+passing filled the whole view and seemed the only thing in life. He said
+he supposed it was so in all our lives, that the immediate present
+filled the whole view of the future until we came to something else; and
+the look in his eyes made her turn from the landscape and wonder about
+him and his life.
+
+Then he stooped and pointed to a clump of soapweed, and idly broke off a
+bit of another bush, handing it to her.
+
+"The Indians call it 'the weed that was not scared,'" he said. "Isn't it
+an odd suggestive name?"
+
+"It must be a brave little weed indeed to live out here all alone under
+this terribly big sky. I wouldn't like it even if I were only a weed,"
+and she looked around and shivered with the thought of her fearful ride
+alone in the night. But she tucked the little spray of brave green into
+the buttonhole of her riding habit and it looked of prouder lineage than
+any weed as it rested against the handsome darkness of the rich green
+cloth. For an instant the missionary studied the picture of the lovely
+girl on the horse and forgot that he was only a missionary. Then with a
+start he came to himself. They must be getting on, for the sun had
+already passed its zenith, and the way was long before them. His eyes
+lingered wistfully on the gleam of her hair where the sun touched it
+into burnished gold. Then he remembered.
+
+"By the way, is this yours?" he asked, and brought out of his pocket the
+little velvet cap.
+
+"Oh, where did you find it?" she cried, settling it on her head like a
+touch of velvet in a crown. "I dropped it in front of a tiny little
+cabin when my last hope vanished. I called and called but the wind threw
+my voice back into my throat and no one came out to answer me."
+
+"It was my house," he said. "I found it on a sage-bush a few feet from
+my own door. Would that I had been at home to answer your call!"
+
+"Your house!" she exclaimed, in wonder. "Oh, why, it couldn't have been.
+It wasn't big enough for anybody--not anybody like you--to live in. Why,
+it wasn't anything more than a--a shed,--just a little board shanty."
+
+"Exactly; my shack!" he said half apologetically, half comically. "You
+should see the inside. It's not so bad as it looks. I only wish I could
+take you that way, but the fact is it's somewhat out of the way to the
+railroad, and we must take the short cut if we want to shorten your
+father's anxiety. Do you feel able to go on further now?"
+
+"Oh, yes, quite," she said with sudden trouble in her face. "Papa will
+be very much worried, and Aunt Maria--oh, Aunt Maria will be wild with
+anxiety. She will tell me that this is just what she expected from my
+going out riding in this heathen land. She warned me not to go. She said
+it wasn't ladylike."
+
+As they went on gradually she told him all about her people, describing
+their little idiosyncrasies; her aunt, her brother, her father, her maid
+and even the fat man cook. The young man soon had the picture of the
+private car with all its luxuries, and the story of the days of travel
+that had been one long fairy tale of pleasure. Only the man Hamar was
+not mentioned; but the missionary had not forgotten him. Somehow he had
+taken a dislike to him from the first mention of his name. He blamed him
+fiercely for not having come after the maiden, yet blessed the fortune
+that had given himself that honour.
+
+They were descending into the canyon now, but not by the steep trail up
+which the pony had taken her the night before. However it was rough
+enough and the descent, though it was into the very heart of nature's
+beauty storehouse, yet frightened Hazel. She started at every steep
+place, and clutched at the saddle wildly, pressing her white teeth hard
+into her under lip until it grew white and tense. Her face was white
+also, and a sudden faintness seemed to come upon her. Brownleigh noticed
+instantly, and walking close beside the horse, guiding carefully his
+every step, he put his free arm about her to steady her, and bade her
+lean towards him and not be afraid.
+
+His strength steadied her and gave her confidence; and his pleasant
+voice pointing out the beauties of the way helped her to forget her
+fright. He made her look up and showed her how the great ferns were
+hanging over in a fringe of green at the top of the bare rocks above,
+their delicate lacery standing out like green fretwork against the blue
+of the sky. He pointed to a cave in the rocks far above, and told her of
+the dwellers of old who had hollowed it out for a home; of the stone
+axes and jars of clay, the corn mills and sandals woven of yucca that
+were found there; and of other curious cave-houses in this part of the
+country; giving in answer to her wondering questions much curious
+information, the like of which she had never heard before.
+
+Then when they were fairly down in the shadows of the canyon he brought
+her a cooling draught of spring water in the tin cup, and lifting her
+unexpectedly from the horse made her sit in a mossy spot where sweet
+flowers clustered about, and rest for a few minutes, for he knew the
+ride down the steep path had been terribly trying to her nerves.
+
+Yet all his attentions to her, whether lifting her to and from the
+saddle, or putting his arm about her to support her on the way, were
+performed with such grace of courtesy as to remove all personality from
+his touch, and she marvelled at it while she sat and rested and watched
+him from the distance watering Billy at a noisy little stream that
+chattered through the canyon.
+
+He put her on the horse again and they took their way through the
+coolness and beauty of the canyon winding along the edge of the little
+stream, threading their way among the trees, and over boulders and rough
+places until at last in the late afternoon they came out again upon the
+plain.
+
+The missionary looked anxiously at the sun. It had taken longer to come
+through the canyon than he had anticipated. The day was waning. He
+quickened Billy into a trot and settled into a long athletic run beside
+him, while the girl's cheeks flushed with the exercise and wind, and her
+admiration of her escort grew.
+
+"But aren't you very tired?" she asked at last when he slowed down and
+made Billy walk again. Billy, by the way, had enjoyed the race
+immensely. He thought he was having a grand time with a princess on his
+back and his beloved master keeping pace with him. He was confident by
+this time that they were bringing the princess home to be there to
+welcome them on all returns hereafter. His horse-sense had jumped to a
+conclusion and approved most heartily.
+
+"Tired!" answered Brownleigh and laughed; "not consciously. I'm good for
+several miles yet myself. I haven't had such a good time in three years,
+not since I left home--and mother," he added softly, reverently.
+
+There was a look in his eyes that made the girl long to know more. She
+watched him keenly and asked:
+
+"Oh, then you have a mother!"
+
+"Yes, I have a mother,--a wonderful mother!" He breathed the words like
+a blessing. The girl looked at him in awe. She had no mother. Her own
+had died before she could remember. Aunt Maria was her only idea of
+mothers.
+
+"Is she out here?" she asked.
+
+"No, she is at home up in New Hampshire in a little quiet country town,
+but she is a wonderful mother."
+
+"And have you no one else, no other family out here with you?"
+
+Hazel did not realize how anxiously she awaited the answer to that
+question. Somehow she felt a jealous dislike of any one who might belong
+to him, even a mother--and a sudden thought of sister or wife who might
+share the little shanty cabin with him made her watch his face narrowly.
+But the answer was quick, with almost a shadow like deep longing on his
+face:
+
+"Oh, no, I have no one. I'm all alone. And sometimes if it were not for
+mother's letters it would seem a great way from home."
+
+The girl did not know why it was so pleasant to know this, and why her
+heart went out in instant sympathy for him.
+
+"O-oo!" she said gently. "Tell me about your mother, please!"
+
+And so he told her, as he walked beside her, of his invalid mother whose
+frail body and its needs bound her to a couch in her old New England
+home, helpless and carefully tended by a devoted nurse whom she loved
+and who loved her. Her great spirit had risen to the sacrifice of
+sending her only son out to the desert on his chosen commission.
+
+They had been climbing a long sloping hill, and at the climax of the
+story had reached the top and could look abroad again over a wide
+expanse of country. It seemed to Hazel's city bred eyes as though the
+kingdoms of the whole world lay spread before her awed gaze. A brilliant
+sunset was spreading a great silver light behind the purple mountains in
+the west, red and blue in flaming lavishness, with billows of white
+clouds floating above, and over that in sharp contrast the sky was
+velvet black with storm. To the south the rain was falling in a
+brilliant shower like yellow gold, and to the east two more patches of
+rain were rosy pink as petals of some wondrous flowers, and arching over
+them a half rainbow. Turning slightly towards the north one saw the rain
+falling from dark blue clouds in great streaks of white light.
+
+"Oh-oo!" breathed the girl; "how wonderful! I never saw anything like
+that before."
+
+But the missionary had no time for answer. He began quickly to unstrap
+the canvas from behind the saddle, watching the clouds as he did so.
+
+"We are going to get a wetting, I'm afraid," he said and looked
+anxiously at his companion.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CAMP
+
+
+It came indeed before he was quite ready for it, but he managed to throw
+the canvas over horse and lady, bidding her hold it on one side while
+he, standing close under the extemporized tent, held the other side,
+leaving an opening in front for air, and so they managed to keep
+tolerably dry, while two storms met overhead and poured down a torrent
+upon them.
+
+The girl laughed out merrily as the first great splashes struck her
+face, then retreated into the shelter as she was bidden and sat quietly
+watching, and wondering over it all.
+
+Here was she, a carefully nurtured daughter of society, until now never
+daring to step one inch beyond the line of conventionality, sitting afar
+from all her friends and kindred on a wide desert plain, under a bit of
+canvas with a strange missionary's arm about her, and sitting as
+securely and contentedly, nay happily, as if she had been in her own
+cushioned chair in her New York boudoir. It is true the arm was about
+her for the purpose of holding down the canvas and keeping out the
+rain, but there was a wonderful security and sense of strength in it
+that filled her with a strange new joy and made her wish that the
+elements of the universe might continue to rage in brilliant display
+about her head a little longer, if thereby she might continue to feel
+the strength of that fine presence near her and about her. A great
+weariness was upon her and this was rest and content, so she put all
+other thoughts out of her mind for the time and rested back against the
+strong arm in full realization of her safety amidst the disturbance of
+the elements.
+
+The missionary wore his upward look. No word passed between them as the
+panorama of the storm swept by. Only God knew what was passing in his
+soul, and how out of that dear nearness of the beautiful girl a great
+longing was born to have her always near him, his right to ever protect
+her from the storms of life.
+
+But he was a man of marked self-control. He held even his thoughts in
+obedience to a higher power, and while the wild wish of his heart swept
+exquisitely over him he stood calmly, and handed it back to heaven as
+though he knew it were a wandering wish, a testing of his true self.
+
+At the first instant of relief from necessity he took his arm away. He
+did not presume a single second to hold the canvas after the wind had
+subsided, and she liked him the better for it, and felt her trust in him
+grow deeper as he gently shook the raindrops from their temporary
+shelter.
+
+The rain had lasted but a few minutes, and as the clouds cleared the
+earth grew lighter for a space. Gently melting into the silver and
+amethyst and emerald of the sky the rainbow faded and now they hurried
+on, for Brownleigh wished to reach a certain spot where he hoped to find
+dry shelter for the night. He saw that the excitement of travel and the
+storm had sorely spent the strength of the girl, and that she needed
+rest, so he urged the horse forward, and hurried along by his side.
+
+But suddenly he halted the horse and looked keenly into the face of his
+companion in the dying light.
+
+"You are very tired," he said. "You can hardly sit up any longer."
+
+She smiled faintly.
+
+Her whole body was drooping with weariness and a strange sick faintness
+had come upon her.
+
+"We must stop here," he said and cast about him for a suitable spot.
+"Well, this will do. Here is a dry place, the shelter of that big rock.
+The rain was from the other direction, and the ground around here did
+not even get sprinkled. That group of trees will do for a private room
+for you. We'll soon have a fire and some supper and then you'll feel
+better."
+
+With that he stripped off his coat and, spreading it upon the ground in
+the dry shelter of a great rock, lifted the drooping girl from the
+saddle and laid her gently on the coat.
+
+She closed her eyes wearily and sank back. In truth she was nearer to
+fainting than she had ever been in her life, and the young man hastened
+to administer a restorative which brought the colour back to her pale
+cheeks.
+
+"It is nothing," she murmured, opening her eyes and trying to smile. "I
+was just tired, and my back ached with so much riding."
+
+"Don't talk!" he said gently. "I'll give you something to hearten you up
+in a minute."
+
+He quickly gathered sticks and soon had a blazing fire not far from
+where she lay, and the glow of it played over her face and her golden
+hair, while he prepared a second cup of beef extract, and blessed the
+fortune that had made him fill his canteen with water at the spring in
+the canyon, for water might not be very near, and he felt that to have
+to move the girl further along that night would be a disaster. He could
+see that she was about used up. But while he was making preparations for
+supper, Billy, who was hobbled but entirely able to edge about slowly,
+had discovered a water-hole for himself, and settled that difficulty.
+Brownleigh drew a sigh of relief, and smiled happily as he saw his
+patient revive under the influence of the hot drink and a few minutes'
+rest.
+
+"I'm quite able to go on a little further," she said, sitting up with an
+effort, "if you think we should go further to-night. I really don't feel
+bad at all any more."
+
+He smiled with relief.
+
+"I'm so glad," he said; "I was afraid I had made you travel too far. No,
+we'll not go further till daylight, I think. This is as good a place to
+camp as any, and water not far away. You will find your boudoir just
+inside that group of trees, and in half an hour or so the canvas will be
+quite dry for your bed. I've got it spread out, you see, close to the
+fire on the other side there. And it wasn't wet through. The blanket was
+sheltered. It will be warm and dry. I think we can make you
+comfortable. Have you ever slept out under the stars before--that is, of
+course, with the exception of last night? I don't suppose you really
+enjoyed that experience."
+
+Hazel shuddered at the thought.
+
+"I don't remember much, only awful darkness and howling. Will those
+creatures come this way, do you think? I feel as if I should die with
+fright if I have to hear them again."
+
+"You may hear them in the distance, but not nearby," he answered
+reassuringly; "they do not like the fire. They will not come near nor
+disturb you. Besides, I shall be close at hand all night. I am used to
+listening and waking in the night. I shall keep a bright fire blazing."
+
+"But you--you--what will you do? You are planning to give me the canvas
+and the blanket, and stay awake yourself keeping watch. You have walked
+all day while I have ridden, and you have been nurse and cook as well,
+while I have been good for nothing. And now you want me to rest
+comfortably all night while you sit up."
+
+There was a ring in the young man's voice as he answered her that
+thrilled her to the heart.
+
+"I shall be all right," he said, and his voice was positively joyous,
+"and I shall have the greatest night of my life taking care of you. I
+count it a privilege. Many a night have I slept alone under the stars
+with no one to guard, and felt the loneliness. Now I shall always have
+this to remember. Besides, I shall not sit up. I am used to throwing
+myself down anywhere. My clothing is warm, and my saddle is used to
+acting as a pillow. I shall sleep and rest, and yet be always on the
+alert to keep up the fire and hear any sound that comes near." He talked
+as though he were recounting the plan of some delightful recreation, and
+the girl lay and watched his handsome face in the play of the firelight
+and rejoiced in it. Somehow there was something very sweet in
+companionship alone in the vast silence with this stranger friend. She
+found herself glad of the wideness of the desert and the stillness of
+the night that shut out the world and made their most unusual
+relationship possible for a little while. A great longing possessed her
+to know more and understand better the fine personality of this man who
+was a man among men, she was convinced.
+
+Suddenly as he came and sat down by the fire not far from her after
+attending to the few supper dishes, she burst forth with a question:
+
+"Why did you do it?"
+
+He turned to her eyes that were filled with a deep content and asked,
+"Do what?"
+
+"Come here! Be a missionary! Why did you do it? You are fitted for
+better things. You could fill a large city church, or--even do other
+things in the world. Why did you do it?"
+
+The firelight flickered on his face and showed his features fine and
+strong in an expression of deep feeling that gave it an exalted look.
+There seemed a light in his eyes that was more than firelight as he
+raised them upward in a swift glance and said quietly, as though it were
+the simplest matter in the universe:
+
+"Because my Father called me to this work. And--I doubt if there can be
+any better. Listen!"
+
+And then he told her of his work while the fire burned cheerfully, and
+the dusk grew deeper, till the moon showed clear her silver orb riding
+high in starry heavens.
+
+The mournful voice of the coyotes echoed distantly, but the girl was not
+frightened, for her thoughts were held by the story of the strange
+childlike race for whom this man among men was giving his life.
+
+He told her of the Indian hogans, little round huts built of logs on
+end, and slanting to a common centre thatched with turf and straw, an
+opening for a door and another in the top to let out the smoke of the
+fire, a dirt floor, no furniture but a few blankets, sheepskins, and
+some tin dishes. He carried her in imagination to one such hogan where
+lay the little dying Indian maiden and made the picture of their barren
+lives so vivid that tears stood in her eyes as she listened. He told of
+the medicine-men, the ignorance and superstition, the snake dances and
+heathen rites; the wild, poetic, conservative man of the desert with his
+distrust, his great loving heart, his broken hopes and blind
+aspirations; until Hazel began to see that he really loved them, that he
+had seen the possibility of greatness in them, and longed to help
+develop it.
+
+He told her of the Sabbath just past, when in company with his distant
+neighbour missionary he had gone on an evangelistic tour among the
+tribes far away from the mission station. He pictured the Indians
+sitting on rocks and stones amid the long shadows of the cedar trees,
+just before the sundown, listening to a sermon. He had reminded them of
+their Indian god Begochiddi and of Nilhchii whom the Indians believe to
+have made all things, the same whom white men call God; and showed them
+a book called the Bible which told the story of God, and of Jesus His
+Son who came to save men from their sin. Not one of the Indians had ever
+heard the name of Jesus before, nor knew anything of the great story of
+salvation.
+
+Hazel found herself wondering why it made so very much difference
+whether these poor ignorant creatures knew all this or not, and yet she
+saw from the face of the man before her that it did matter, infinitely.
+To him it mattered more than anything else. A passing wish that she were
+an Indian to thus hold his interest flashed through her mind, but he was
+speaking yet of his work, and his rapt look filled her with awe. She was
+overwhelmed with the greatness and the fineness of the man before her.
+Sitting there in the fitful firelight, with its ruddy glow upon his
+face, his hat off and the moon laying a silver crown upon his head, he
+seemed half angel, half god. She had never before been so filled with
+the joy of beholding another soul. She had no room for thoughts of
+anything else.
+
+Then suddenly he remembered that it was late.
+
+"I have kept you awake far too long," he said penitently, looking at
+her with a smile that seemed all tenderness. "We ought to get on our way
+as soon as it is light, and I have made you listen to me when you ought
+to have been sleeping. But I always like to have a word with my Father
+before retiring. Shall we have our worship together?"
+
+Hazel, overcome by wonder and embarrassment, assented and lay still in
+her sheltered spot watching him as he drew a small leather book from his
+breast pocket and opened to the place marked by a tiny silken cord. Then
+stirring up the fire to brightness he began to read and the majestic
+words of the ninety-first psalm came to her unaccustomed ears as a
+charmed page.
+
+"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under
+the shadow of the Almighty."
+
+"He shall cover thee with His feathers and under His wings shalt thou
+trust." The words were uttered with a ringing tone of trust. The
+listener knew little of birds and their ways, but the phrasing reminded
+her of the way she had been sheltered from the storm a little while
+before and her heart thrilled anew with the thought of it.
+
+"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night!"
+
+Ah! Terror by night! She knew what that meant. That awful night of
+darkness, steep riding, howling beasts and black oblivion! She shuddered
+involuntarily at the remembrance. Not afraid! What confidence the voice
+had as it rang on, and all at once she knew that this night was free
+from terror for her because of the man whose confidence was in the
+Unseen.
+
+"He shall give His angels charge over thee," and looking at him she half
+expected to see flitting wings in the moonlit background. How strong and
+true the face! How tender the lines about the mouth! What a glow of
+inner quietness and power in the eyes as he raised them now and again to
+her face across the firelight! What a thing it would be to have a friend
+like that always to guard one! Her eyes glowed softly at the thought and
+once again there flashed across her mind the contrast between this man
+and the one from whom she had fled in horror the day before.
+
+The reading ended, he replaced the little marker, and dropping upon one
+knee on the desert with his face lifted to the sky and all the radiance
+of the moon flooding over him he spoke to God as a man speaks with his
+friend, face to face.
+
+Hazel lay with open, wondering eyes and watched him, awe growing within
+her. The sense of an unseen Presence close at hand was so strong that
+once she lifted half frightened eyes to the wide clear sky. The light on
+the face of the missionary seemed like glory from another world.
+
+She felt herself enfolded and upborne into the Presence of the infinite
+by his words, and he did not forget to commend her loved ones to the
+care of the Almighty. A great peace came upon her as she listened to the
+simple, earnest words and a sense of security such as she had never
+known before.
+
+After the brief prayer he turned to her with a smile and a few words of
+assurance about the night. There was her dressing-room behind those
+trees, and she need not be afraid; he would not be far away. He would
+keep the fire bright all night so that she would not be annoyed by the
+near howling of the coyotes. Then he moved away to gather more wood, and
+she heard him singing, softly at first, and then gathering volume as he
+got further away, his rich tenor voice ringing clear upon the night in
+an old hymn. The words floated back distinctly to her listening ears:
+
+          "My God, is any hour so sweet
+             From flush of dawn to evening star,
+           As that which calls me to Thy feet,
+             The hour of prayer?
+
+          "Then is my strength by Thee renewed;
+             Then are my sins by Thee forgiven;
+           Then dost Thou cheer my solitude
+             With hopes of heaven.
+
+          "No words can tell what sweet relief
+             There for my every want I find;
+           What strength for warfare, balm for grief,
+             What peace of mind!"
+
+She lay down for the night marvelling still over the man. He was singing
+those words as if he meant every one, and she knew that he possessed
+something that made him different from other men. What was it? It seemed
+to her that he was the one man of all the earth, and how was it that she
+had found him away out here alone in the desert?
+
+The great stars burned sharply in the heavens over her, the white
+radiance of the moon lay all about her, the firelight played at her
+feet. Far away she could hear the howling of the coyotes, but she was
+not afraid.
+
+She could see the broad shoulders of the man as he stooped over on the
+other side of the fire to throw on more wood. Presently she knew he had
+thrown himself down with his head on the saddle, but she could hear him
+still humming softly something that sounded like a lullaby. When the
+firelight flared up it showed his fine profile.
+
+Not far away she could hear Billy cropping the grass, and throughout the
+vast open universe there seemed to brood a great and peaceful silence.
+She was very tired and her eyelids drooped shut. The last thing she
+remembered was a line he had read from the little book, "He shall give
+His angels charge----" and she wondered if they were somewhere about
+now.
+
+That was all until she awoke suddenly with the consciousness that she
+was alone, and that in the near distance a conversation in a low tone
+was being carried on.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+REVELATION
+
+
+The moon was gone, and the luminous silver atmosphere was turned into a
+clear dark blue, with shadows of the blackness of velvet; but the stars
+burned redder now, and nearer to the earth.
+
+The fire still flickered brightly, with a glow the moon had paled before
+she went to sleep, but there was no protecting figure on the other side
+of the flames, and the angels seemed all to have forgotten.
+
+Off at a little distance, where a group of sage-brush made dense
+darkness, she heard the talking. One speaking in low tones, now
+pleading, now explaining, deeply earnest, with a mingling of anxiety and
+trouble. She could not hear any words. She seemed to know the voice was
+low that she might not hear; yet it filled her with a great fear. What
+had happened? Had some one come to harm them, and was he pleading for
+her life? Strange to say it never entered her head to doubt his loyalty,
+stranger though he was. Her only feeling was that he might have been
+overpowered in his sleep, and be even now in need of help himself. What
+could she do?
+
+After the first instant of frozen horror she was on the alert. He had
+saved her, she must help him. She could not hear any other voice than
+his. Probably the enemy spoke in whispers, but she knew that she must go
+at once and find out what was the matter. The distance from her pleasant
+couch beside the fire was but a few steps, yet it seemed to her
+frightened heart and trembling limbs, as she crept softly over towards
+the sage-brush, that it was miles.
+
+At last she was close to the bush, could part it with her cold hand and
+look into the little shelter.
+
+There was a faint light in the east beyond the mountains that showed the
+coming dawn, and silhouetted against this she saw the figure of her
+rescuer, dropped upon one knee, his elbow on the other and his face
+bowed in his hand. She could hear his words distinctly now, but there
+was no man else present, though she searched the darkness carefully.
+
+"I found her lost out here in the wilderness," he was saying in low,
+earnest tones, "so beautiful, so dear! But I know she cannot be for me.
+Her life has been all luxury and I would not be a man to ask her to
+share the desert! I know too that she is not fitted for the work. I know
+it would be all wrong, and I must not wish it, but I love her, though I
+may not tell her so! I must be resolute and strong, and not show her
+what I feel. I must face my Gethsemane, for this girl is as dear to me
+as my own soul! God bless and guard her, for I may not."
+
+The girl had stood rooted to the spot unable to move as the low voice
+went on with its revelation, but when the plea for a blessing upon her
+came with all the mighty longing of a soul who loved absorbingly, it was
+as if she were unable to bear it, and she turned and fled silently back
+to her couch, creeping under the canvas, thrilled, frightened, shamed
+and glad all in one. She closed her eyes and the swift tears of joy
+came. He loved her! He loved her! How the thought thrilled her. How her
+own heart leaped up to meet his love. The fact of it was all she could
+contain for the time and it filled her with an ecstasy such as she had
+never known before. She opened her eyes to the stars and they shone back
+a great radiance of joy to her. The quiet darkness of the vast earth all
+about her seemed suddenly to have become the sweetest spot she had
+known. She had never thought there could be joy like this.
+
+Gradually she quieted the wild throbbing of her heart and tried to set
+her thoughts in order. Perhaps she was taking too much for granted.
+Perhaps he was talking of another girl, some one he had met the day
+before. But yet it seemed as if there could be no doubt. There would not
+be two girls lost out in that desert. There could not--and her heart
+told her that he loved her. Could she trust her heart? Oh, the dearness
+of it if it were true!
+
+Her face was burning too, with the sweet shame of having heard what was
+not meant for her ears.
+
+Then came the flash of pain in the joy. He did not intend to tell her.
+He meant to hide his love--and for her sake! And he was great enough to
+do so. The man who could sacrifice the things that other men hold dear
+to come out to the wilderness for the sake of a forgotten, half-savage
+people, could sacrifice anything for what he considered right. This fact
+loomed like a wall of adamant across the lovely way that joy had
+revealed to her. Her heart fell with the thought that he was not to
+speak of this to her,--and she knew that more than for anything else in
+life, more than anything she had ever known, she longed to hear him
+speak those words to her. A half resentment filled her that he had told
+his secret to Another--what concerned her--and would not let her know.
+
+The heart searching went on, and now she came to the thorn-fact of the
+whole revelation. There had been another reason besides care for herself
+why he could not tell her of his love,--why he could not ask her to
+share his life. She had not been accounted worthy. He had put it in
+pleasant words and said she was unfitted, but he might as well have made
+it plain and said how useless she would be in his life.
+
+The tears came now, tears of mortification, for Hazel Radcliffe had
+never before in all her petted life been accounted unworthy for any
+position. It was not that she considered at all the possibility of
+accepting the position that was not to be offered her. Her startled mind
+had not even reached so far; but her pride was hurt to think that any
+one should think her unworthy.
+
+Then over the whole tumultuous state of mind would come the memory of
+his voice throbbing with feeling as he said, "She is dear to me as my
+own soul," and the joy of it would sweep everything else away.
+
+There was no more sleep to be had for her.
+
+The stars grew pale, and the rose dawn grew in the east. She presently
+heard her companion return and replenish the fire, stirring about softly
+among the dishes, and move away again, but she had turned her head away
+that he might not see her face, and he evidently thought her still
+sleeping.
+
+So she lay and tried to reason things out; tried to scold herself for
+thinking his words applied to her; tried to recall her city life and
+friends, and how utterly alien this man and his work would be to them;
+tried to think of the new day when she would probably reach her friends
+again and this new friend would be lost sight of; felt a sharp twinge of
+pain at the thought; wondered if she could meet Milton Hamar and what
+they would say to one another, and if any sort of comfortable relations
+could ever be established between them again; and knew they could not.
+Once again the great horror rolled over her at thought of his kiss. Then
+came the startling thought that he had used almost the same words to her
+that this man of the desert had used about her, and yet how infinitely
+different! How tender and deep and true, and pure and high his face in
+contrast to the look she had seen upon that handsome, evil face bent
+over her! She covered her eyes and shuddered again, and entertained a
+fleeting wish that she might stay forever here and not return to his
+hated presence.
+
+Then back like a flood-tide of sunshine would come the thought of the
+missionary and his love for her, and everything else would be
+obliterated in the rapture it brought.
+
+And thus on rosy wings the morning dawned, a clean, straight sunrise.
+
+Hazel could hear the missionary stepping softly here and there preparing
+breakfast, and knew he felt it time to be on the move. She must bestir
+herself and speak, but her cheeks grew pink over the thought of it. She
+kept waiting and trying to think how to say good-morning without a look
+of guilty knowledge in her eyes. Presently she heard him call to Billy
+and move away in the direction where the horse was eating his breakfast.
+Then snatching her opportunity she slipped from under the canvas into
+her green boudoir.
+
+But even here she found evidences of her wise guide's care, for standing
+in front of the largest cedar were two tin cups of clear water and
+beside them a small pocket soap-case and a clean folded handkerchief,
+fine and white. He had done his best to supply her with toilet articles.
+
+Her heart leaped up again at his thoughtfulness. She dashed the water
+into her glowing face, and buried it in the clean folds of the
+handkerchief--his handkerchief. How wonderful that it should be so! How
+had a mere commonplace bit of linen become so invested with the currents
+of life as to give such joyful refreshment with a touch? The wonder of
+it all was like a miracle. She had not known anything in life could be
+like that.
+
+The great red cliff across the valley was touched with the morning sun
+when she emerged from her green shelter, shyly conscious of the secret
+that lay unrevealed between them.
+
+Their little camp was still in the shadow. The last star had disappeared
+as if a hand had turned the lights low with a flash and revealed the
+morning.
+
+She stood for an instant in the parting of the cedars, a hand on each
+side holding back the boughs, looking forth from her retreat; and the
+man advancing saw her and waited with bared head to do her reverence, a
+great light of love in his eyes which he knew not was visible, but which
+blinded the eyes of the watching girl, and made her cheeks grow rosier.
+
+The very air about them seemed charged with an electrical current. The
+little commonplaces which they spoke sank deep into the heart of each
+and lingered to bless the future. The glances of their eyes had many
+meetings and lingered shyly on more intimate ground than the day before,
+yet each had grown more silent. The tenderness of his voice was like a
+benediction as he greeted her.
+
+He seated her on the canvas he had arranged freshly beside a bit of
+green grass, and prepared to serve her like a queen. Indeed she wore a
+queenly bearing, small and slender though she was, her golden hair
+shining in the morning, and her eyes bright as the stars that had just
+been paled by day.
+
+There were fried rabbits cooking in the tiny saucepan and corn bread was
+toasting before the fire on two sharp sticks. She found to her surprise
+that she was hungry, and that the breakfast he had prepared seemed a
+most delicious feast.
+
+She grew secure in her consciousness that he did not know she had
+guessed his secret, and let the joy of it all flow over her and envelop
+her. Her laugh rang out musically over the plain, and he watched her
+hungrily, delightedly, enjoying every minute of the companionship with
+a kind of double joy because of 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 was dreading their separation. How
+could it be? Such things were not real. People always laughed at sudden
+love affairs as if they were impossible, but her heart told her that it
+was not merely hours by which they numbered their acquaintance. The soul
+of this man had been revealed to her in that brief space of time as
+another's might not have been in years. She dreaded the ending of this
+companionship. It would be the end, of course. He had said it, and she
+knew his words were true. His world was not her world, more the pity! He
+would never give up his world, and he had said she was unfitted for his.
+It was all too true--this world of rough, uncouth strangers, and wild
+emptiness of beauty. But how she longed to have this day with him beside
+her prolonged indefinitely!
+
+The vision would fade of course when she got back into the world again,
+and things would assume their normal proportions very likely. But just
+now she admitted to herself that she did not want to get back. She would
+be entirely content if she might wander thus with him in the desert for
+the rest of her natural life.
+
+He came back to her presently accompanied by an Indian boy carrying an
+iron pot and some fresh mutton. Hazel watched them as they built a fire,
+arranged the pot full of water to boil, and placed the meat to roast.
+The missionary was making corn cake which presently was baking in the
+ashes, and giving forth a savoury odour.
+
+An Indian squaw appeared in the doorway of one of the hogans, her baby
+strapped to her back, and watched her with great round wondering eyes.
+Hazel smiled at the little papoose, and it soon dimpled into an
+answering smile. Then she discovered that the missionary was watching
+them both, his heart in his eyes, a strange wonderful joy in his face,
+and her heart-beats quickened. She was pleasing him! It was then as she
+smiled back at the child of the forest that she discovered an interest
+of her own in these neglected people of his. She could not know that the
+little dark-skinned baby whom she had noticed would from this time forth
+become the special tender object of care from the missionary, just
+because she had noticed it.
+
+They had a merry meal, though not so intimate as the others had been;
+for a group of Indian women and children huddled outside the nearest
+hogan watching their every move with wide staring eyes, and stolid but
+interested countenances; and the little boy hovered not far away to
+bring anything they might need. It was all pleasant but Hazel felt
+impatient of the interruption when their time together was now so short.
+She was glad when, mounted on Billy again, and her companion on a rough
+little Indian pony with wicked eyes, they rode away together into the
+sunshine of the afternoon.
+
+But now it seemed but a breathless space before they would come into the
+presence of people, for the two horses made rapid time, and the
+distances flew past them mile by mile, the girl feeling each moment more
+shy and embarrassed, and conscious of the words she had overheard in the
+early morning.
+
+It seemed to her a burden she could not carry away unknown upon her soul
+and yet how could she let him know?
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+RENUNCIATION
+
+
+They had entered a strip of silvery sand, about two miles wide, and rode
+almost in silence, for a singular shyness had settled upon them.
+
+The girl was conscious of his eyes upon her with a kind of tender
+yearning as if he would impress the image on his mind for the time when
+she would be with him no more. Each had a curious sense of understanding
+the other's thoughts, and needing no words. But as they neared a great
+rustling stretch of corn he looked at her keenly again and spoke:
+
+"You are very tired, I'm sure." It was not a question but she lifted her
+eyes to deny it, and a flood-tide of sweet colour swept over the cheeks.
+"I knew it," he said, searching her raised eyes. "We must stop and rest
+after we have passed through this corn. There is a spot under some trees
+where you will be sheltered from the sun. This corn lasts only a mile or
+so more, and after you have rested we will have only a short distance
+to go"--he caught his breath as though the words hurt him--"our journey
+is almost over!" They rode in silence through the corn, but when it was
+passed and they were seated beneath the trees the girl lifted her eyes
+to him filled with unspeakable things.
+
+"I haven't known how to thank you," she said earnestly, the tears almost
+in evidence.
+
+"Don't, please!" he said gently. "It has been good to me to be with you.
+How good you never can know." He paused and then looked keenly at her.
+
+"Did you rest well last night, your first night under the stars? Did you
+hear the coyotes, or feel at all afraid?"
+
+Her colour fled, and she dropped her glance to Billy's neck, while her
+heart throbbed painfully.
+
+He saw how disturbed she was.
+
+"You were afraid," he charged gently. "Why didn't you call? I was close
+at hand all the time. What frightened you?"
+
+"Oh, it was nothing!" she said evasively. "It was only for a minute."
+
+"Tell me, please!" his voice compelled her.
+
+"It was just for a minute," she said again, speaking rapidly and trying
+to hide her embarrassment. "I woke and thought I heard talking and you
+were not in sight; but it was not long before you came back with an
+armful of wood, and I saw it was almost morning."
+
+Her cheeks were rosy, as she lifted her clear eyes to meet his searching
+gaze and tried to face him steadily, but he looked into the very depths
+of her soul and saw the truth. She felt her courage going from her, and
+tried to turn her gaze carelessly away, but could not.
+
+At last he said in a low voice full of feeling:
+
+"You heard me?"
+
+Her eyes, which he had held with his look, wavered, faltered, and
+drooped. "I was afraid," he said as her silence confirmed his
+conviction. "I heard some one stirring. I looked and thought I saw you
+going back to your couch." There was grave self-reproach in his tone,
+but no reproach for her. Nevertheless her heart burned with shame and
+her eyes filled with tears. She hid her glowing face in her hands and
+cried out:
+
+"I am so sorry. I did not mean to be listening. I thought from the tone
+of your voice you were in trouble. I was afraid some one had attacked
+you, and perhaps I could do something to help----"
+
+"You poor child!" he said deeply moved. "How unpardonable of me to
+frighten you. It is my habit of talking aloud when I am alone. The great
+loneliness out here has cultivated it. I did not realize that I might
+disturb you. What must you think of me? What _can_ you think?"
+
+"Think!" she burst forth softly. "I think you are all wrong to try to
+keep a thing like that to yourself!"
+
+And then the full meaning of what she had said broke upon her, and her
+face crimsoned with embarrassment.
+
+But he was looking at her with an eager light in his eyes.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked. "Won't you please explain?"
+
+Hazel was sitting now with her face entirely turned away, and the soft
+hair blowing concealingly about her burning cheeks. She felt as if she
+must get up and run away into the desert and end this terrible
+conversation. She was getting in deeper and deeper every minute.
+
+"Please!" said the gentle, firm voice.
+
+"Why, I--think--a--a--woman--has a right--to know--a thing like that!"
+she faltered desperately.
+
+"Why?" asked the voice again after a pause.
+
+"Because--she--she--might not ever--she might not ever know there was
+such a love for a woman in the world!" she stammered, still with her
+head turned quite away from him. She felt that she could never turn
+around and face this wonderful man of the desert again. She wished the
+ground would open and show her some comfortable way of escape.
+
+The pause this time was long, so long that it frightened her, but she
+dared not turn and look at him. If she had done so she would have seen
+that he was sitting with bowed head for some time, in deep meditation,
+and that at last he lifted his glance to the sky again as if to ask a
+swift permission. Then he spoke.
+
+"A man has no right to tell a woman he loves her when he cannot ask her
+to marry him."
+
+"That," said the girl, her throat throbbing painfully, "_that_ has
+nothing to do with it. I--was--not talking about--marrying! But I think
+she has a right to know. It would--make a difference all her life!" Her
+throat was dry and throbbing. The words seemed to stick as she tried to
+utter them, yet they would be said. She longed to hide her burning face
+in some cool shelter and get away from this terrible talk, but she
+could only sit rigidly quiet, her fingers fastened tensely in the coarse
+grass at her side.
+
+There was a longer silence now, and still she dared not look at the man.
+
+A great eagle appeared in the heaven above and sailed swiftly and
+strongly towards a mountain peak. Hazel had a sense of her own
+smallness, and of the fact that her words had made an exquisite anguish
+for the soul of her companion, yet she could not think of anything to
+say that would better matters. At last he spoke, and his voice was like
+one performing a sad and sacred rite for one tenderly beloved:
+
+"And now that you know I love you can it possibly make any difference to
+you?"
+
+Hazel tried three times to answer, but every time her trembling lips
+would frame no words. Then suddenly her face went into her hands and the
+tears came. She felt as if a benediction had been laid upon her head,
+and the glory of it was greater than she could bear.
+
+The man watched her, his arms longing to enfold her and soothe her
+agitation, but he would not. His heart was on fire with the sweetness
+and the pain of the present moment, yet he could not take advantage of
+their situation upon the lonely plain, and desecrate the beauty of the
+trust she had put upon him.
+
+Then her strength came again, and she raised her head and looked into
+his waiting eyes with a trembling, shy glance, yet true and earnest.
+
+"It will make a difference--to me!" she said. "I shall never feel quite
+the same towards life again because I know there is such a wonderful man
+in the world."
+
+She had fine control of her voice now, and was holding back the tears.
+Her manner of the world was coming to her aid. He must not see how much
+this was to her, how very much. She put out a little cold hand and laid
+it timidly in his big brown one, and he held it a moment and looked down
+at it in great tenderness, closed his fingers over it in a strong clasp,
+then laid it gently back in her lap as though it were too precious to
+keep. Her heart thrilled and thrilled again at his touch.
+
+"Thank you," he said simply, a great withdrawing in his tone. "But I
+cannot see how you can think well of me. I am an utter stranger to you.
+I have no right to talk of such things to you."
+
+"You did not tell me," answered Hazel. "You told--God." Her voice was
+slow and low with awe. "I only overheard. It was my fault--but--I am
+not--sorry. It was a great--thing to hear!"
+
+He watched her shy dignity as she talked, her face drooping and half
+turned away. She was exquisitely beautiful in her confusion. His whole
+spirit yearned towards hers.
+
+"I feel like a monster," he said suddenly. "You know I love you, but you
+do not understand how, in this short time even, you have filled my life,
+my whole being. And yet I may not ever try or hope to win your love in
+return. It must seem strange to you----"
+
+"I think I understand," she said in a low voice; "you spoke of all that
+in the night--you know." It seemed as if she shrank from hearing it
+again.
+
+"Will you let me explain it thoroughly to you?"
+
+"If--you think best." She turned her face away and watched the eagle,
+now a mere speck in the distance.
+
+"You see it is this way. I am not free to do as I might wish--as other
+men are free. I have consecrated my life to the service of God in this
+place. I know--I knew when I came here--that it was no place to bring a
+woman. There are few who could stand the life. It is filled with
+privations and hardships. They are inevitable. You are used to tender
+care and luxury. No man could ask a sacrifice like that of a woman he
+loved. He would not be a man if he did. It is not like marrying a girl
+who has felt the call herself, and loves to give her life to the work.
+That would be a different matter. But a man has no right to expect it of
+a woman----" he paused to find the right words and Hazel in a small
+still voice of dignity reminded him:
+
+"You are forgetting one of the reasons."
+
+"Forgetting?" he turned towards her wonderingly and their eyes met for
+just an instant, then hers were turned away again.
+
+"Yes," she went on inscrutably. "You thought I--was not--fit!"
+
+She was pulling up bits of green from the ground beside her. She felt a
+frightened flutter in her throat. It was the point of the thorn that had
+remained in her heart. It was not in nature for her not to speak of it,
+yet when it was spoken she felt how it might be misunderstood.
+
+But the missionary made answer in a kind of cry like some hurt creature.
+
+"Not fit! Oh, my dear! You do not understand----"
+
+There was that in his tone that extracted the last bit of rankling
+thorn from Hazel's heart and brought the quick blood to her cheeks
+again.
+
+With a light laugh that echoed with relief and a deep new joy which she
+dared not face as yet, she sprang to her feet.
+
+"Oh, yes, I understand," she said gaily, "and it's all true. I'm not a
+bit fit for a missionary. But oughtn't we to be moving on? I'm quite
+rested now."
+
+With a face that was grave to sadness he acquiesced, fastening the
+canvas in place on the saddle, and putting her on her horse with swift,
+silent movements. Then as she gathered up the reins he lingered for an
+instant and taking the hem of her gown in his fingers he stooped and
+touched his lips lightly, reverently to the cloth.
+
+There was something so humble, so pathetic, so self-forgetful in the
+homage that the tears sprang to the girl's eyes and she longed to put
+her arms about his neck and draw his face close to hers and tell him how
+her heart was throbbing in sympathy.
+
+But he had not even asked for her love, and there must be silence
+between them. He had shown that it was the only way. Her own reserve
+closed her lips and commanded that she show no sign.
+
+And now they rode on silently for the most part, the horses' hoofs
+beating rapidly in unison. Now and then a rabbit scuttled on ahead of
+them or a horned toad hopped out of their path. Short brown lizards
+palpitated on bits of wood along the way; now and then a bright green
+one showed itself and disappeared. Once they came upon a village of
+prairie dogs and paused to watch their antics for a moment. It was then
+as they turned away that she noticed the bit of green he had stuck in
+his buttonhole and recognized it for the same that she had played with
+as they talked by the wayside. Her eyes charged him with having picked
+it up afterwards and his eyes replied with the truth, but they said no
+words about it. They did not need words.
+
+It was not until they reached the top of a sloping hill, and suddenly
+came upon the view of the valley with its winding track gleaming in the
+late afternoon sun, the little wooden station and few cabins dotted here
+and there, that she suddenly realized that their journey together was at
+an end, for this was the place from which she had started two days
+before.
+
+He had no need to tell her. She saw the smug red gleam of their own
+private car standing on the track not far away. She was brought face to
+face with the fact that her friends were down there in the valley and
+all the stiff conventionalities of her life stood ready to build a wall
+between this man and herself. They would sweep him out of her life as if
+she had never met him, never been found and saved by him, and carry her
+away to their tiresome round of parties and pleasure excursions again.
+
+She lifted her eyes with a frightened, almost pleading glance as if for
+a moment she would ask him to turn with her back to the desert again.
+She found his eyes upon her in a long deep gaze of farewell, as one
+looks upon the face of a beloved soon to be parted from earth. She could
+not bear the blinding of the love she saw there, and her own heart
+leaped up anew to meet it in answering love.
+
+But it was only this one flash of a glance they had, when they were
+aware of voices and the sound of horses' hoofs, and almost instantly
+around the clump of sage-brush below the trail there swept into sight
+three horsemen, Shag Bunce, an Indian, and Hazel's brother. They were
+talking excitedly, and evidently starting out on a new search.
+
+The missionary with quick presence of mind started the horses on,
+shouting out a greeting, and was answered with instant cheers from the
+approaching party, followed by shots from Shag Bunce in signal that the
+lost was found; shots which immediately seemed to echo from the valley
+and swell into shouting and rejoicing.
+
+Then all was confusion at once.
+
+The handsome, reckless brother with gold hair like Hazel's embraced her,
+talking loud and eagerly; showing how he had done this and that to find
+her; blaming the country, the horses, the guides, the roads; and paying
+little heed to the missionary who instantly dropped behind to give him
+his place. It seemed but a second more before they were surrounded with
+eager people all talking at once, and Hazel, distressed that her brother
+gave so little attention to the man who had saved her, sought thrice to
+make some sort of an introduction, but the brother was too much taken up
+with excitement, and with scolding his sister for having gotten herself
+lost, to take it in.
+
+Then out came the father, who, it appeared, had been up two nights on
+the search, and had been taking a brief nap. His face was pale and
+haggard. Brownleigh liked the look of his eyes as he caught sight of
+his daughter, and his face lighted as he saw her spring into his arms,
+crying: "Daddy! Daddy! I'm so sorry I frightened you!"
+
+Behind him, tall and disapproving, with an I-told-you-so in her eye,
+stood Aunt Maria.
+
+"Headstrong girl," she murmured severely. "You have given us all two
+terrible days!" and she pecked Hazel's cheek stiffly. But no one heard
+her in the excitement.
+
+Behind Aunt Maria Hazel's maid wrung her hands and wept in a kind of
+hysterical joy over her mistress' return, and back of her in the gloom
+of the car vestibule loomed the dark countenance of Hamar with an angry,
+red mark across one cheek. He did not look particularly anxious to be
+there. The missionary turned from his evil face with repulsion.
+
+In the confusion and delight over the return of the lost one the man of
+the desert prepared to slip away, but just as he was about to mount his
+pony Hazel turned and saw him.
+
+"Daddy, come over here and speak to the man who found me and brought me
+safely back again," she said, dragging her father eagerly across the
+platform to where the missionary stood.
+
+The father came readily enough and Hazel talked rapidly, her eyes
+shining, her cheeks like twin roses, telling in a breath of the horrors
+and darkness and rescue, and the thoughtfulness of her stranger-rescuer.
+
+Mr. Radcliffe came forward with outstretched hand to greet him, and the
+missionary took off his hat and stood with easy grace to shake hands. He
+was not conscious then of the fire of eyes upon him, cold society stares
+from Aunt Maria, Hamar and young Radcliffe, as if to say, How dared he
+presume to expect recognition for doing what was a simple duty! He noted
+only the genuine heartiness in the face of the father as he thanked him
+for what he had done. Then, like the practical man of the world that he
+was, Mr. Radcliffe reached his hand into his pocket and drew out his
+check book remarking, as if it were a matter of course, that he wished
+to reward his daughter's rescuer handsomely, and inquiring his name as
+he pulled off the cap from his fountain pen.
+
+Brownleigh stood back stiffly with a heightened colour, and an almost
+haughty look upon his face.
+
+"Thank you," he said coldly, "I could not think of taking anything for a
+mere act of humanity. It was a pleasure to be able to serve your
+daughter," and he swung himself easily into the saddle.
+
+But Mr. Radcliffe was unaccustomed to such independence in those who
+served him and he began to bluster. Hazel, however, her cheeks fairly
+blazing, her eyes filled with mortification, put a hand upon her
+father's arm.
+
+"Daddy, you don't understand," she said earnestly; "my new friend is a
+clergyman--he is a missionary, daddy!"
+
+"Nonsense, daughter! You don't understand these matters. Just wait until
+I am through. I cannot let a deed like this go unrewarded. A missionary,
+did you say? Then if you won't take anything for yourself take it for
+your church; it's all the same in the end," and he gave a knowing wink
+towards the missionary whose anger was rising rapidly, and who was
+having much ado to keep a meek and quiet spirit.
+
+"Thank you!" he said again coldly, "not for any such service."
+
+"But I mean it!" grumbled the elder man much annoyed. "I want to donate
+something to a cause that employs a man like you. It is a good to the
+country at large to have such men patrolling the deserts. I never
+thought there was much excuse for Home Missions, but after this I shall
+give it my hearty approval. It makes the country safer for tourists.
+Come, tell me your name and I'll write out a check. I'm in earnest."
+
+"Send any contribution you wish to make to the general fund," said
+Brownleigh with dignity, mentioning the address of the New York Board
+under whose auspices he was sent out, "but don't mention me, please."
+Then he lifted his hat once more and would have ridden away but for the
+distress in Hazel's eyes.
+
+Just then the brother created a digression by rushing up to his father.
+"Dad, Aunt Maria wants to know if we can't go on, with this train. It's
+in sight now, and she is nearly crazy to get on the move. There's
+nothing to hinder our being hitched on, is there? The agent has the
+order. Do, dad, let's get out of this. I'm sick of it, and Aunt Maria is
+unbearable!"
+
+"Yes, certainly, certainly, Arthur, speak to the agent. We'll go on at
+once. Excuse me, Mr.---- Ah, what did you say was the name? I'm sorry
+you feel that way about it; though it's very commendable, very
+commendable, I'm sure. I'll send to New York at once. Fifth Avenue, did
+you say? I'll speak a good word for you. Excuse me, the agent is
+beckoning me. Well, good-bye, and thank you again! Daughter, you better
+get right into the car. The train is almost here, and they may have no
+time to spare," and Mr. Radcliffe hastened up the platform after his son
+and the agent.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+"FOR REMEMBRANCE"
+
+
+Hazel turned her troubled eyes to the face of the man pleadingly. "My
+father does not understand," she said apologetically. "He is very
+grateful and he is used to thinking that money can always show
+gratitude."
+
+Brownleigh was off his horse beside her, his hat off, before she had
+finished speaking.
+
+"Don't, I beg of you, think of it again," he pleaded, his eyes devouring
+her face. "It is all right. I quite understand. And you understand too,
+I am sure."
+
+"Yes, I understand," she said, lifting her eyes full of the love she had
+not dared to let him see. She was fidgetting with her rings as she spoke
+and looked back anxiously at the onrushing train. Her brother, hurrying
+down the platform to their car, called to her to hasten as he passed
+her, and she knew she would be allowed but a moment more. She caught her
+breath and looked at the tall missionary wistfully.
+
+"You will let me leave something of my own with you, just for
+remembrance?" she asked eagerly.
+
+His eyes grew tender and misty.
+
+"Of course," he said, his voice suddenly husky, "though I shall need
+nothing to remember you by. I can never forget you." The memory of that
+look of his eyes was meat and drink to her soul during many days that
+followed, but she met it now steadily, not even flushing at her open
+recognition of his love.
+
+"This is mine," she said. "My father bought it for me when I was
+sixteen. I have worn it ever since. He will never care." She slipped a
+ring from her finger and dropped it in his palm.
+
+"Hurry up there, sister!" called young Radcliffe once more from the car
+window, and looking up, Brownleigh saw the evil face of Hamar peering
+from another window.
+
+Hazel turned, struggling to keep back the rising tears. "I must go," she
+gasped.
+
+Brownleigh flung the reins of the pony to a young Indian who stood near
+and turning walked beside her, conscious the while of the frowning faces
+watching them from the car windows.
+
+"And I have nothing to give you," he said to her in a low tone, deeply
+moved at what she had done.
+
+"Will you let me have the little book?" she asked shyly.
+
+His eyes lit with a kind of glory as he felt in his pocket for his
+Bible.
+
+"It is the best thing I own," he said. "May it bring you the same joy
+and comfort it has often brought to me." And he put the little book in
+her hand.
+
+The train backed crashing up and jarred into the private car with a
+snarling, grating sound. Brownleigh put Hazel on the steps and helped
+her up. Her father was hurrying towards them and some train hands were
+making a great fuss shouting directions. There was just an instant for a
+hand-clasp, and then he stepped back to the platform, and her father
+swung himself on, as the train moved off. She stood on the top step of
+the car, her eyes upon his face, and his upon hers, his hat lifted in
+homage, and renunciation upon his brow as though it were a crown.
+
+It was the voice of her Aunt Maria that recalled her to herself, while
+the little station with its primitive setting, its straggling onlookers
+and its one great man, slipped past and was blurred into the landscape
+by the tears which she could not keep back.
+
+"Hazel! For pity's sake! Don't stand mooning and gazing at that rude
+creature any longer. We'll have you falling off the train and being
+dramatically rescued again for the delectation of the natives. I'm sure
+you've made disturbance enough for one trip, and you'd better come in
+and try to make amends to poor Mr. Hamar for what you have made him
+suffer with your foolish persistence in going off on a wild western pony
+that ran away. You haven't spoken to Mr. Hamar yet. Perhaps you don't
+know that he risked his life for you trying to catch your horse and was
+thrown and kicked in the face by his own wretched little beast, and left
+lying unconscious for hours on the desert, until an Indian came along
+and picked him up and helped him back to the station." (As a matter of
+fact Milton Hamar had planned and enacted this touching drama with the
+help of a passing Indian, when he found that Hazel was gone, leaving an
+ugly whip mark on his cheek which must be explained to the family.) "He
+may bear that dreadful scar for life! He will think you an ungrateful
+girl if you don't go at once and make your apologies."
+
+For answer Hazel, surreptitiously brushing away the tears, swept past
+her aunt and locked herself into her own little private stateroom.
+
+She rushed eagerly to the window which was partly open, guarded with a
+screen, and pressed her face against the upper part of the glass. The
+train had described a curve across the prairie, and the station was
+still visible, though far away. She was sure she could see the tall
+figure of her lover standing with hat in hand watching her as she passed
+from his sight.
+
+With quick impulse she caught up a long white crepe scarf that lay on
+her berth, and snatching the screen from the window fluttered the scarf
+out to the wind. Almost instantly a flutter of white came from the
+figure on the platform, and her heart quickened with joy. They had sent
+a message from heart to heart across the wide space of the plains, and
+the wireless telegraphy of hearts was established. Great tears rushed to
+blot the last flutter of white from the receding landscape, and then a
+hill loomed brilliant and shifting, and in a moment more shut out the
+sight of station and dim group and Hazel knew that she was back in the
+world of commonplace things once more, with only a memory for her
+company, amid a background of unsympathetic relatives.
+
+She made her toilet in a leisurely way, for she dreaded to have to talk
+as she knew she would, and dreaded still more to meet Hamar. But she
+knew she must go and tell her father of her experiences, and presently
+she came out to them fresh and beautiful, with eyes but the brighter for
+her tears, and a soft wild-rose flush on her wind-browned cheeks that
+made her beauty all the sweeter.
+
+They clamoured at once, of course, for all the details of her
+experience, and began by rehearsing once more how hard Mr. Hamar had
+tried to save her from her terrible plight, risking his life to stop her
+horse. Hazel said nothing to this, but one steady clear look at the
+disfigured face of the man who had made them believe all this was the
+only recognition she gave of his would-be heroism. In that look she
+managed to show her utter disbelief and contempt, though her Aunt Maria
+and perhaps even her father and brother thought her gratitude too deep
+for utterance before them all.
+
+The girl passed over the matter of the runaway with a brief word, saying
+that the pony had made up his mind to run, and she had lost the bridle,
+which of course explained her inability to control him. She made light
+of her ride, however, before her aunt, and told the whole story most
+briefly until she came to the canyon and the howl of the coyotes. She
+was most warm in praise of her rescuer, though here too she used few
+words and avoided any description of the ride back, merely saying that
+the missionary had shown himself a gentleman in every particular, and
+had given her every care and attention that her own family could have
+done under the circumstances, making the way pleasant with stories of
+the country and the people. She said that he was a man of unusual
+culture and refinement, she thought, and yet most earnestly devoted to
+his work, and then she abruptly changed the subject by asking about
+certain plans for their further trip and seeming to have no further
+interest in what had befallen her; but all the while she was conscious
+of the piercing glance and frowning visage of Milton Hamar watching her,
+and she knew that as soon as opportunity offered itself he would
+continue the hateful interview begun on the plain. She decided mentally
+that she would avoid any such interview if possible, and to that end
+excused herself immediately after lunch had been served, saying she
+needed a good sleep to make up for the long ride she had taken.
+
+But it was not to sleep that she gave herself when she was at last able
+to take refuge in her little apartment again. She looked out at the
+passing landscape, beautiful with varied scenery, all blurred with tears
+as she thought of how she had but a little while before been out in its
+wide free distance with one who loved her. How that thought thrilled and
+thrilled her, and brought her a fresh joy each time it repeated itself!
+She wondered over the miracle of it. She never had dreamed that love was
+like this. She scarce believed it now. She was excited, stirred to the
+depths by her unusual experience, put beyond the normal by the
+strangeness of the surroundings that had brought this man into her
+acquaintance; so said common sense, and warned her that to-morrow, or
+the next day, or at most next week, the thrill would all be gone and she
+would think of the stranger missionary as one curious detail of her
+Western trip. But her heart resented this, and down, deep down,
+something else told her this strange new joy would not vanish, that it
+would live throughout her life, and that whatever in the years came to
+her, she would always know underneath all that this had been the real
+thing, the highest fullness of a perfect love for her.
+
+As the miles lengthened and her thoughts grew sad with the distance,
+she drew from its hiding place the little book he had given her at
+parting. She had slipped it into the breast pocket of her riding habit
+as she received it, for she shrank from having her aunt's keen eyes
+detect it and question her. She had been too much engrossed with the
+thought of separation to remember it till now.
+
+She touched it tenderly, shyly, as though it were a part of himself; the
+limp, worn covers, the look of constant use, all made it inexpressibly
+dear. She had not known before that an inanimate object, not beautiful
+in itself, could bring such tender love.
+
+Opening to the flyleaf, there in clear, bold writing was his name, "John
+Chadwick Brownleigh," and for the first time she realized that there had
+passed between them no word of her name. Strange that they two should
+have come so close as to need no names one with the other. But her heart
+leaped up with joy that she knew his name, and her eyes dwelt yearningly
+upon the written characters. John! How well the name fitted him. It
+seemed that she would have known it was his even if she had not seen it
+written first in one of his possessions. Then she fell to meditating
+whether he would have any way of discovering her name. Perhaps her
+father had given it to him, or the station agent might have known to
+whom their car belonged. Of course he would when he received the
+orders,--or did they give orders about cars only by numbers? She wished
+she dared ask some one. Perhaps she could find out in some way how those
+orders were written. And yet all the time she had an instinctive feeling
+that had he known her name a thousand times he would not have
+communicated with her. She knew by that exalted look of renunciation
+upon his face that no longing whatsoever could make him overstep the
+bounds which he had laid down between her soul and his.
+
+With a sigh she opened the little book, and it fell apart of itself to
+the place where he had read the night before, the page still marked by
+the little silk cord he had placed so carefully. She could see him now
+with the firelight flickering on his face, and the moonlight silvering
+his head, that strong tender look upon his face. How wonderful he had
+been!
+
+She read the psalm over now herself, the first time in her life she had
+ever consciously given herself to reading the Bible. But there was a
+charm about the words that gave them new meaning, the charm of his voice
+as she heard them in memory and watched again his face change and stir
+at the words as he read.
+
+The day waned and the train flew on, but the landscape had lost its
+attraction now for the girl. She pleaded weariness and remained apart
+from the rest, dreaming over her wonderful experience, and thinking new
+deep thoughts of wonder, regret, sadness, joy, and when night fell and
+the great moon rose lighting the world again, she knelt beside her car
+window, looking long into the wide clear sky, the sky that covered him
+and herself; the moon that looked down upon them both. Then switching on
+the electric light over her berth she read the psalm once more, and fell
+asleep with her cheek upon the little book and in her heart a prayer for
+him.
+
+John Brownleigh, standing upon the station platform, watching the train
+disappear behind the foot-hills, experienced, for the first time since
+his coming to Arizona, a feeling of the utmost desolation. Lonely he had
+been, and homesick, sometimes, but always with a sense that he was
+master of it all, and that with the delight of his work it would pass
+and leave him free and glad in the power wherewith his God had called
+him to the service. But now he felt that with this train the light of
+life was going from him, and all the glory of Arizona and the world in
+which he had loved to be was darkened on her account. For a moment or
+two his soul cried out that it could not be, that he must mount some
+winged steed and speed after her whom his heart had enthroned. Then the
+wall of the inevitable appeared before his eager eyes, and Reason
+crowded close to bring him to his senses. He turned away to hide the
+emotion in his face. The stolid Indian boy, who had been holding both
+horses, received his customary smile and pleasant word, but the
+missionary gave them more by habit than thought this time. His soul had
+entered its Gethsemane, and his spirit was bowed within him.
+
+As soon as he could get away from the people about the station who had
+their little griefs and joys and perplexities to tell him, he mounted
+Billy, and leading the borrowed pony rode away into the desert,
+retracing the way they had come together but a short time before.
+
+Billy was tired and walked slowly, drooping his head, and his master was
+sad at heart, so there was no cheerful converse between them as they
+travelled along.
+
+It was not far they went, only back to the edge of the corn, where they
+had made their last stop of the journey together a few short hours
+before, and here the missionary halted and gave the beasts their freedom
+for a respite and refreshment. He himself felt too weary of soul to go
+further.
+
+He took out the ring, the little ring that was too small to go more than
+half-way on his smallest finger, the ring she had taken warm and
+flashing from her white hand and laid within his palm!
+
+The sun low down in the west stole into the heart of the jewel and sent
+its glory in a million multicoloured facets, piercing his soul with the
+pain and the joy of his love. He cast himself down upon the grass where
+she had sat, where, with his eyes closed and his lips upon the jewel she
+had worn, he met his enemy and fought his battle out.
+
+Wearied at last with the contest, he slept. The sun went down, the moon
+made itself manifest once more, and when the night went coursing down
+its way of silver, two jewels softly gleamed in its radiance, the one
+upon his finger where he had pressed her ring, the other from the grass
+beside him. With a curious wonder he put forth his hand to the second
+and found it was the topaz set in the handle of her whip which she had
+dropped and forgotten when they sat together and talked by the way. He
+seized it eagerly now, and gathered it to him. It seemed almost a
+message of comfort from her he loved. It was something tangible, this,
+and the ring, to show him he had not dreamed her coming; she had been
+real, and she had wanted him to tell her of his love, had said it would
+make a difference all the rest of her life.
+
+He remembered that somewhere he had read or heard a great man say that
+to be worthy of a great love one must be able to do without it. Here
+now, then, he would prove his love by doing without. He stood with
+uplifted face, transfigured in the light of the brilliant night, with
+the look of exalted self-surrender, but only his heart communed that
+night, for there were no words on his dumb lips to express the fullness
+of his abnegation.
+
+Then forth upon his way he went, his battle fought, the stronger for it,
+to be a staff for other men to lean upon.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+HIS MOTHER
+
+
+Deserts and mountains remain, duties crowd and press, hearts ache but
+the world rushes on. The weeks that followed showed these two that a
+great love is eternal.
+
+Brownleigh did not try to put the thought of it out of his life, but
+rather let it glorify the common round. Day after day passed and he went
+from post to post, from hogan to mesa, and back to his shanty again,
+always with the thought of her companionship, and found it sweet. Never
+had he been less cheery when he met his friends, though there was a
+quiet dignity, a tender reserve behind it all that a few discerning ones
+perceived. They said at the Fort that he was losing flesh, but if so, he
+was gaining muscle. His lean brown arms were never stronger, and his
+fine strong face was never sad when any one was by. It was only in the
+night-time alone upon the moonlit desert, or in his little quiet
+dwelling place when he talked with his Father, and told all the
+loneliness and heartache. His people found him more sympathetic, more
+painstaking, more tireless than ever before, and the work prospered
+under his hand.
+
+The girl in the city deliberately set herself to forget.
+
+The first few days after she left him had been a season of ecstatic joy
+mingled with deep depression, as she alternately meditated upon the fact
+of a great love, or faced its impossibility.
+
+She had scorched Milton Hamar with her glance of aversion, and avoided
+him constantly even in the face of protest from her family, until he had
+made excuse and left the party at Pasadena. There, too, Aunt Maria had
+relieved them of her annoying interference, and the return trip taken by
+the southern route had been an unmolested time for meditation for the
+girl. She became daily more and more dissatisfied with herself and her
+useless, ornamental life. Some days she read the little book, and other
+days she shut it away and tried to get back to her former life, telling
+herself it was useless to attempt to change herself. She had found that
+the little book gave her a deep unrest and a sense that life held
+graver, sweeter things than just living to please one's self. She began
+to long for home, and the summer round of gaieties, with which to fill
+the emptiness of her heart.
+
+As the summer advanced there was almost a recklessness sometimes about
+the way she planned to have a good time every minute; yet in the quiet
+of her own room there would always come back the yearning that had been
+awakened in the desert and would not be silenced.
+
+Sometimes when the memory of that great deep love she had heard
+expressed for herself came over her, the bitter tears would come to her
+eyes and one thought would throb through her consciousness: "Not worthy!
+Not worthy!" He had not thought her fit to be his wife. Her father and
+her world would think it quite otherwise. They would count him unworthy
+to mate with her, an heiress, the pet of society; he a man who had given
+up his life for a whim, a fad, a fanatical fancy! But she knew it was
+not so. She knew him to be a man of all men. She knew it was true that
+she was not such a woman as a man like that could fitly wed, and the
+thought galled her constantly.
+
+She tried to accustom herself to think of him as a pleasant experience,
+a friend who might have been if circumstances with them both had been
+different; she tried to tell herself that it was a passing fancy with
+them which both would forget; and she tried with all her heart to
+forget, even locking away the precious little book and trying to forget
+it too.
+
+And then, one day in late summer, she went with a motoring party through
+New England; as frolicsome and giddy a party as could be found among New
+York society transferred for the summer to the world of Nature. There
+was to be a dance or a house party or something of the sort at the end
+of the drive. Hazel scarcely knew, and cared less. She was becoming
+utterly weary of her butterfly life.
+
+The day was hot and dusty, Indian summer intensified. They had got out
+of their way through a mistake of the chauffeur, and suddenly just on
+the edge of a tiny quaint little village the car broke down and refused
+to go on without a lengthy siege of coaxing and petting.
+
+The members of the party, powdered with dust and in no very pleasant
+frame of mind from the delay, took refuge at the village inn, an
+old-time hostelry close to the roadside, with wide, brick-paved,
+white-pillared piazza across the front, and a mysterious hedged garden
+at the side. There were many plain wooden rockers neatly adorned with
+white crash on the piazza, and one or two late summer boarders loitering
+about with knitting work or book. The landlord brought cool tinkling
+glasses of water and rich milk from the spring-house, and they dropped
+into the chairs to wait while the men of the party gave assistance to
+the chauffeur in patching up the car.
+
+Hazel sank wearily into her chair and sipped the milk unhungrily. She
+wished she had not come; wished the day were over, and that she might
+have planned something more interesting; wished she had chosen different
+people to be of her party; and idly watched a white hen with yellow kid
+boots and a coral comb in her nicely groomed hair picking daintily about
+the green under the oak trees that shaded the street. She listened to
+the drone of the bees in the garden near by, the distant whetting of a
+scythe, the monotonous whang of a steam thresher not far away, the happy
+voices of children, and thought how empty a life in this village would
+be; almost as dreary and uninteresting as living in a desert--and then
+suddenly she caught a name and the pink flew into her cheeks and memory
+set her heart athrob.
+
+It was the landlord talking to a lingering summer boarder, a quiet,
+gray-haired woman who sat reading at the end of the piazza.
+
+"Well, Miss Norton, so you're goin' to leave us next week. Sorry to hear
+it. Don't seem nat'ral 'thout you clear through October. Ca'c'late
+you're comin' back to Granville in the spring?"
+
+Granville! Granville! Where had she heard of Granville? Ah! She knew
+instantly. It was his old home! His mother lived there! But then of
+course it might have been another Granville. She wasn't even sure what
+state they were in now, New Hampshire or Vermont. They had been wavering
+about on the state line several times that day, and she never paid
+attention to geography.
+
+Then the landlord raised his voice again.
+
+He was gazing across the road where a white colonial house, white-fenced
+with pickets like clean sugar frosting, nestled in the luscious grass,
+green and clean and fresh, and seeming utterly apart from the soil and
+dust of the road, as if nothing wearisome could ever enter there.
+Brightly there bloomed a border of late flowers, double asters, zinnias,
+peonies, with a flame of scarlet poppies breaking into the smoke-like
+blue of larkspurs and bachelor buttons, as it neared the house. Hazel
+had not noticed it until now and she almost cried out with pleasure over
+the splendour of colour.
+
+"Wal," said the landlord chinking some loose coins in his capacious
+pockets, "I reckon Mis' Brownleigh'll miss yeh 'bout as much as enny of
+us. She lots on your comin' over to read to her. I've heerd her say as
+how Amelia Ellen is a good nurse, but she never was much on the readin',
+an' Amelia Ellen knows it too. Mis' Brownleigh she'll be powerful
+lonesome fer yeh when yeh go. It's not so lively fur her tied to her bed
+er her chair, even ef John does write to her reg'lur twicet a week."
+
+And now Hazel noticed that on the covered veranda in front of the wing
+of the house across the way there sat an old lady on a reclining wheeled
+chair, and that another woman in a plain blue gown hovered near waiting
+upon her. A luxuriant woodbine partly hid the chair, and the distance
+was too great to see the face of the woman, but Hazel grew weak with
+wonder and pleasure. She sat quite still trying to gather her forces
+while the summer boarder expressed earnest regret at having to leave her
+chosen summer abiding place so much earlier than usual. At last her
+friends began to rally Hazel on her silence. She turned away annoyed,
+and answered them crossly, following the landlord into the house and
+questioning him eagerly. She had suddenly arrived at the conclusion that
+she must see Mrs. Brownleigh and know if she looked like her son, and if
+she was the kind of mother one would expect such a son to have. She felt
+that in the sight might lie her emancipation from the bewitchment that
+had bound her in its toils since her Western trip. She also secretly
+hoped it might justify her dearest dreams of what his mother was like.
+
+"Do you suppose that lady across the street would mind if I went over to
+look at her beautiful flowers?" she burst in upon the astonished
+landlord as he tipped his chair back with his feet on another and
+prepared to browse over yesterday's paper for the third time that day.
+
+He brought his chair down on its four legs with a thump and drew his hat
+further over his forehead.
+
+"Not a bit, not a bit, young lady. She's proud to show off her flowers.
+They're one of the sights of Granville. Mis' Brownleigh loves to have
+comp'ny. Jest go right over an' tell her I sent you. She'll tell you
+all about 'em, an' like ez not she'll give you a bokay to take 'long.
+She's real generous with 'em."
+
+He tottered out to the door after her on his stiff rheumatic legs, and
+suggested that the other young ladies might like to go along, but they
+one and all declined, to Hazel's intense relief, and called their
+ridicule after her as she picked her way across the dusty road and
+opened the white gate into the peaceful scene beyond.
+
+When she drew close to the side piazza she saw one of the most beautiful
+faces she had ever looked upon. The features were delicate and
+exquisitely modelled, aged by years and much suffering, yet lovely with
+a peace that had permitted no fretting. An abundance of waving silken
+hair white as driven snow was piled high upon her head against the snowy
+pillow, and soft brown eyes made the girl's heart throb quickly with
+their likeness to those other eyes that had once looked into hers.
+
+She was dressed in a simple little muslin gown of white and gray with
+white cloud-like finish at throat and wrists, and across the helpless
+limbs was flung a light afghan of pink and gray wool. She made a sweet
+picture as she lay and watched her approaching guest with a smile of
+interest and welcome.
+
+"The landlord said you would not mind if I came over to see your
+flowers," Hazel said with a shy, half-frightened catch in her voice. Now
+that she was here she was almost sorry she had come. It might not be his
+mother at all, and what could she say anyway? Yet her first glimpse told
+her that this was a mother to be proud of. "The most beautiful mother in
+the world" he had called her, and surely this woman could be none other
+than the one who had mothered such a son. Her highest ideals of
+motherhood seemed realized as she gazed upon the peaceful face of the
+invalid.
+
+And then the voice! For the woman was speaking now, holding out a
+lily-white hand to her and bidding her be seated in the Chinese willow
+chair that stood close by the wheeled one; a great green silk cushion at
+the back, and a large palm leaf fan on the table beside it.
+
+"I am so pleased that you came over," Mrs. Brownleigh was saying. "I
+have been wondering if some one wouldn't come to me. I keep my flowers
+partly to attract my friends, for I can stand a great deal of company
+since I'm all alone. You came in the big motor car that broke down,
+didn't you? I've been watching the pretty girls over there, in their gay
+ribbons and veils. They look like human flowers. Rest here and tell me
+where you have come from and where you are going, while Amelia Ellen
+picks you some flowers to take along. Afterwards you shall go among them
+and see if there are any you like that she has missed. Amelia Ellen! Get
+your basket and scissors and pick a great many flowers for this young
+lady. It is getting late and they have not much longer to blossom. There
+are three white buds on the rose-bush. Pick them all. I think they fit
+your face, my dear. Now take off your hat and let me see your pretty
+hair without its covering. I want to get your picture fixed in my heart
+so I can look at you after you are gone."
+
+And so quite simply they fell into easy talk about each other, the day,
+the village, and the flowers.
+
+"You see the little white church down the street? My husband was its
+pastor for twenty years. I came to this house a bride, and our boy was
+born here. Afterwards, when his father was taken away, I stayed right
+here with the people who loved him. The boy was in college then, getting
+ready to take up his father's work. I've stayed here ever since. I love
+the people and they love me, and I couldn't very well be moved, you
+know. My boy is out in Arizona, a home missionary!" She said it as
+Abraham Lincoln's mother might have said: "My boy is president of the
+United States!" Her face wore a kind of glory that bore a startling
+resemblance to the man of the desert. Hazel marvelled greatly, and
+understood what had made the son so great.
+
+"I don't see how he could go and leave you alone!" she broke forth
+almost bitterly. "I should think his duty was here with his mother!"
+
+"Yes, I know," the mother smiled; "they do say that, some of them, but
+it's because they don't understand. You see we gave John to God when he
+was born, and it was our hope from the first that he would choose to be
+a minister and a missionary. Of course John thought at first after his
+father went away that he could not leave me, but I made him see that I
+would be happier so. He wanted me to go with him, but I knew I should
+only be a hindrance to the work, and it came to me that my part in the
+work was to stay at home and let him go. It was all I had left to do
+after I became an invalid. And I'm very comfortable. Amelia Ellen takes
+care of me like a baby, and there are plenty of friends. My boy writes
+me beautiful letters twice a week, and we have such nice talks about the
+work. He's very like his father, and growing more so every day.
+Perhaps," she faltered and fumbled under the pink and silver lap robe,
+"perhaps you'd like to read a bit of one of his letters. I have it here.
+It came yesterday and I've only read it twice. I don't let myself read
+them too often because they have to last three days apiece at least.
+Perhaps you'd read it aloud to me. I like to hear John's words aloud
+sometimes and Amelia Ellen has never spent much time reading. She is
+peculiar in her pronunciation. Do you mind reading it to me?"
+
+She held a letter forth, written in a strong free hand, the same that
+had signed the name John Chadwick Brownleigh in the little book. Hazel's
+heart throbbed eagerly and her hand trembled as she reached it shyly
+towards the letter. What a miracle was this! that his very letter was
+being put into her hand, her whom he loved--to read! Was it possible?
+Could there be a mistake? No, surely not. There could not be two John
+Brownleighs, both missionaries to Arizona.
+
+"Dear little Mother o' Mine:" it began, and plunged at once into the
+breezy life of the Western country. He had been to a cattle round-up the
+week before and he described it minutely in terse and vivid language,
+with many a flash of wit, or graver touch of wisdom, and here and there
+a boyish expression that showed him young at heart, and devoted to his
+mother. He told of a visit he had paid to the Hopi Indians, their
+strange villages, each like a gigantic house with many rooms, called a
+pueblo, built on the edges of lofty crags or mesas and looking like huge
+castles five or six hundred feet above the desert floor. He told of
+Walpi, a village out on the end of a great promontory, its only access a
+narrow neck of land less than a rod wide, with one little path worn more
+than a foot deep in the solid rock by the feet of ten generations
+passing over it, where now live about two hundred and thirty people in
+one building. There were seven of these villages built on three mesas
+that reach out from the northern desert like three great fingers,
+Oraibi, the largest, having over a thousand people. He explained that
+Spanish explorers found these Hopis in 1540, long before the pilgrims
+landed at Plymouth Rock, and called the country Tusayan. Then he went
+on to describe a remarkable meeting that had been held in which the
+Indians had manifested deep interest in spiritual things, and had asked
+many curious questions about life, death and the hereafter.
+
+"You see, dear," said the mother, her eyes shining eagerly, "you see how
+much they need him, and I'm glad I can give him. It makes me have a part
+in the work."
+
+Hazel turned back to the letter and went on reading to hide the tears
+that were gathering in her own eyes as she looked upon the exalted face
+of the mother.
+
+There was a detailed account of a conference of missionaries, to attend
+which the rider had ridden ninety miles on horseback; and at the close
+there was an exquisite description of the spot where they had camped the
+last night of their ride. She knew it from the first word almost, and
+her heart beat so wildly she could hardly keep her voice steady to read:
+
+"I stopped over night on the way home at a place I dearly love. There is
+a great rock, shelving and overhanging, for shelter from any passing
+storm, and quite near a charming green boudoir of cedars on three sides,
+and rock on the fourth. An abundant water-hole makes camping easy for
+me and Billy, and the stars overhead are good tapers. Here I build my
+fire and boil the kettle, read my portion and lie down to watch the
+heavens. Mother, I wish you knew how near to God one feels out in the
+desert with the stars. Last night about three o'clock I woke to
+replenish my fire and watch a while a great comet, the finest one for
+many years. I would tell you about it but I've already made this letter
+too long, and it's time Billy and I were on our way again. I love this
+spot beside the big rock and often come back to it on my journeys;
+perhaps because here I once camped with a dear friend and we had
+pleasant converse together around our brushwood fire. It makes the
+desert seem less lonely because I can sometimes fancy my friend still
+reclining over on the other side of the fire in the light that plays
+against the great rock. Well, little mother o' mine, I must close. Cheer
+up, for it has been intimated to me that I may be sent East to General
+Assembly in the spring, and then for three whole weeks with you! That
+will be when the wild strawberries are out, and I shall carry you in my
+arms and spread a couch for you on the strawberry hill behind the house,
+and you shall pick some again with your own hands."
+
+With a sudden catch in her throat like a sob the reading came to an end
+and Hazel, her eyes bright with tears, handed the letter reverently back
+to the mother whose face was bright with smiles.
+
+"Isn't he a boy worth giving?" she asked as she folded the letter and
+slipped it back under the pink and gray cover.
+
+"He is a great gift," said Hazel in a low voice.
+
+She was almost glad that Amelia Ellen came up with an armful of flowers
+just then and she might bury her face in their freshness and hide the
+tears that would not be stayed, and then before she had half admired
+their beauty there was a loud "Honk-honk!" from the road, followed by a
+more impatient one, and Hazel was made aware that she was being waited
+for.
+
+"I'm sorry you must go, dear," said the gentle woman. "I haven't seen so
+beautiful a girl in years, and I'm sure you have a lovely heart, too. I
+wish you could visit me again."
+
+"I will come again some time if you will let me!" said the girl
+impulsively, and then stooped and kissed the soft rose-leaf cheek, and
+fled down the path trying to get control of her emotion before meeting
+her companions.
+
+Hazel was quiet all the rest of the way, and was rallied much upon her
+solemnity. She pleaded a headache and closed her eyes, while each
+heart-throb carried her back over the months and brought her again to
+the little camp under the rock beneath the stars.
+
+"He remembered still! He cared!" This was what her glad thoughts sang as
+the car whirled on, and her gay companions forgot her and chattered of
+their frivolities.
+
+"How wonderful that I should find his mother!" she said again and again
+to herself. Yet it was not so wonderful. He had told her the name of the
+town, and she might have come here any time of her own accord. But it
+was strange and beautiful that the accident had brought her straight to
+the door of the house where he had been born and brought up! What a
+beautiful, happy boyhood he must have had with a mother like that! Hazel
+found herself thinking wistfully, out of the emptiness of her own
+motherless girlhood. Yes, she would go back and see the sweet mother
+some day; and she fell to planning how it could be.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+REFUGE
+
+
+Milton Hamar had not troubled Hazel all summer. From time to time her
+father mentioned him as being connected with business enterprises, and
+it was openly spoken of now that a divorce had been granted him, and his
+former wife was soon to marry again. All this, however, was most
+distasteful to the girl to whom the slightest word about the man served
+to bring up the hateful scene of the desert.
+
+But early in the fall he appeared among them again, assuming his old
+friendly attitude towards the whole family, dropping in to lunch or
+dinner whenever it suited his fancy. He seemed to choose to forget what
+had passed between Hazel and himself, to act as though it had not been,
+and resumed his former playful attitude of extreme interest in the girl
+of whom he had always been fond. Hazel, however, found a certain air of
+proprietorship in his gaze, a too-open expression of his admiration
+which was offensive. She could not forget, try as hard as she might for
+her father's sake to forgive. She shrank away from the man's company,
+avoided him whenever possible, and at last when he seemed to be almost
+omnipresent, and growing every day more insistent in his attentions, she
+cast about her for some absorbing interest which would take her out of
+his sphere.
+
+Then a strange fancy took her in its possession.
+
+It was in the middle of the night when it came to her, where she had
+been turning her luxurious pillow for two hours trying in vain to tempt
+a drowsiness that would not come, and she arose at once and wrote a
+brief and businesslike letter to the landlord of the little New
+Hampshire inn where she had been delayed for a couple of hours in the
+fall. In the morning, true to her impulsive nature, she besieged her
+father until he gave his permission for her to take her maid and a quiet
+elderly cousin of his and go away for a complete rest before the society
+season began.
+
+It was a strange whim for his butterfly daughter to take but the busy
+man saw no harm in it, and was fully convinced that it was merely her
+way of punishing some over ardent follower for a few days; and feeling
+sure she would soon return, he let her go. She had had her way all her
+life, and why should he cross her in so simple a matter as a few days'
+rest in a country inn with a respectable chaperone?
+
+The letter to the landlord was outtravelled by a telegram whose answer
+sent Hazel on her way the next morning, thankful that she had been able
+to get away during a temporary absence of Milton Hamar, and that her
+father had promised not to let any of her friends know of her
+whereabouts. His eye had twinkled as he made the promise. He was quite
+sure which of her many admirers was being punished, but he did not tell
+her so. He intended to be most judicious with all her young men friends.
+He so confided his intentions to Milton Hamar that evening, having no
+thought that Hazel would mind their old friend's knowing.
+
+Two days later Hazel, after establishing her little party comfortably in
+the best rooms the New Hampshire inn afforded, putting a large box of
+new novels at their disposal, and another of sweets, and sending orders
+for new magazines to be forwarded, went over to call on the sweet old
+lady towards whom her heart had been turning eagerly, with a longing
+that would not be put away, ever since that first accidental, or
+providential, meeting.
+
+When she came back, through the first early snow-storm, with her cheeks
+like winter roses and her furry hat all feathered with great white
+flakes, she found Milton Hamar seated in front of the open fire in the
+office making the air heavy with his best tobacco, and frowning
+impatiently through the small-paned windows.
+
+The bright look faded instantly from her face and the peace which she
+had almost caught from the woman across the way. Her eyes flashed
+indignantly, and her whole small frame stiffened for the combat that she
+knew must come now. There was no mistaking her look. Milton Hamar knew
+at once that he was not welcome. She stood for an instant with the door
+wide open, blowing a great gust of biting air across the wide room and
+into his face. A cloud of smoke sprang out from the fireplace to meet it
+and the two came together in front of the man, and made a visible wall
+for a second between him and the girl.
+
+He sprang to his feet, cigar in hand, and an angry exclamation upon his
+lips. The office, fortunately, was without other occupant.
+
+"Why in the name of all that's unholy did you lead me a race away off to
+this forsaken little hole in midwinter, Hazel?" he cried.
+
+Hazel drew herself to her full height and with the dignity that well
+became her, answered him:
+
+"Really, Mr. Hamar, what right have you to speak to me in that way? And
+what right had you to follow me?"
+
+"The right of the man who is going to marry you!" he answered fiercely;
+"and I think it's about time this nonsense stopped. It's nothing but
+coquettish foolishness, your coming here. I hate coquettish fools. I
+didn't think you had it in you to coquet, but it seems all women are
+alike."
+
+"Mr. Hamar, you are forgetting yourself," said the girl quietly, turning
+to shut the door that she might gain time to get control of her shaken
+nerves. She had a swift vision of what it would be if she were married
+to a man like that. No wonder his wife was entirely willing to give him
+a divorce. But she shuddered as she turned back and faced him bravely.
+
+"Well, what did you come here for?" he asked in a less fierce tone.
+
+"I came because I wanted to be quiet," Hazel said trying to steady her
+voice, "and--I will tell you the whole truth. I came because I wanted to
+get away from--you! I have not liked the way you acted towards me
+since--that day--in Arizona."
+
+The man's fierce brows drew together, but a kind of mask of apology
+overspread his features. He perceived that he had gone too far with the
+girl whom he had thought scarcely more than a child. He had thought he
+could mould her like wax, and that his scorn would instantly wither her
+wiles. He watched her steadily for a full minute; the girl, though
+trembling in every nerve, sending back a steady, haughty gaze.
+
+"Do you mean that?" he said at last.
+
+"I do!" Her voice was quiet, but she was on the verge of tears.
+
+"Well, perhaps we'd better talk it over. I see I've taken too much for
+granted. I thought you'd understood for a year or more what was going
+on--what I was doing it for."
+
+"You thought I understood! You thought I would be willing to be a party
+to such an awful thing as you have done!" Hazel's eyes were flashing
+fire now. The tears were scorched away.
+
+"Sit down! We'll talk it over," said the man moving a great summer
+chair nearer to his own. His eyes were on her face approvingly and he
+was thinking what a beautiful picture she made in her anger.
+
+"Never!" said the girl quickly. "It is not a thing I could talk over. I
+do not wish to speak of it again. I wish you to leave this place at
+once," and she turned with a quick movement and fled up the quaint old
+staircase.
+
+She stayed in her room until he left, utterly refusing to see him,
+refusing to answer the long letters he wrote and sent up to her; and
+finally, after another day, he went away. But he wrote to her several
+times, and came again twice, each time endeavouring to surprise her into
+talking with him. The girl grew to watch nervously every approach of the
+daily stage which brought stray travellers from the station four miles
+distant, and was actually glad when a heavy snow-storm shut them in and
+made it unlikely that her unwelcome visitor would venture again into the
+country.
+
+The last time he came Hazel saw him descending from the coach, and
+without a word to any one, although it was almost supper time, and the
+early winter twilight was upon them, she seized her fur cloak and
+slipped down the back stairs, out through the shadows, across the road,
+where she surprised good Amelia Ellen by flinging her arms about her
+neck and bursting into tears right in the dark front hall, for the gust
+of wintry wind from the open door blew the candle out, and Amelia Ellen
+stood astonished and bewildered for a moment in the blast of the north
+wind with the soft arms of the excited girl in her furry wrappings
+clinging about her unaccustomed shoulders.
+
+Amelia Ellen had never had many beautiful things in her life, the care
+of her Dresden-china mistress, and her brilliant garden of flowers,
+having been the crowning of her life hitherto. This beautiful city girl
+with her exquisite garments and her face like a flower, flung upon her
+in sudden appeal, drew out all the latent love and pity and sympathy of
+which Amelia Ellen had a larger store than most, hidden under a simple
+and severe exterior.
+
+"Fer the land's sake! Whatever ails you!" she exclaimed when she could
+speak for astonishment, and to her own surprise her arm enclosed the
+sobbing girl in a warm embrace while with the other hand she reached to
+close the door. "Come right in to my kitchen and set in the big chair by
+the cat and let me give you a cup o' tea. Then you can tell Mis'
+Brownleigh what's troublin' you. She'll know how to talk to you. I'll
+git you some tea right away."
+
+She drew the shrinking girl into the kitchen and ousting the cat from a
+patchwork rocker pushed her gently into it. It was characteristic of
+Amelia Ellen that she had no thought of ministering to her spiritual
+needs herself, but knew her place was to bring physical comfort.
+
+She spoke no word save to the cat, admonishing him to mend his manners
+and keep out from under foot, while she hurried to the tea canister, the
+bread box, the sugar bowl, and the china closet. Soon a cup of fragrant
+tea was set before the unexpected guest, and a bit of delicate toast
+browning over the coals, to be buttered and eaten crisp with the tea;
+and the cat nestled comfortably at Hazel's feet while she drank the tea
+and wiped away the tears.
+
+"You'll think I'm a big baby, Amelia Ellen!" cried Hazel trying to smile
+shamedly, "but I'm just so tired of the way things go. You see somebody
+I don't a bit like has come up from New York on the evening coach, and
+I've run away for a little while. I don't know what made me cry. I never
+cry at home, but when I got safely over here a big lump came in my
+throat and you looked so nice and kind that I couldn't keep the tears
+back."
+
+From that instant Amelia Ellen, toasting fork in hand, watching the
+sweet blue eyes and the tear-stained face that resembled a drenched pink
+bud after a storm, loved Hazel Radcliffe. Come weal, come woe, Amelia
+Ellen was from henceforth her staunch admirer and defendant.
+
+"Never you mind, honey, you just eat your tea an' run in to Mis'
+Brownleigh, an' I'll get my hood an' run over to tell your folks you've
+come to stay all night over here. Then you'll have a cozy evenin'
+readin' while I sew, an' you can sleep late come mornin', and go back
+when you're ready. Nobody can't touch you over here. I'm not lettin' in
+people by night 'thout I know 'em," and she winked knowingly at the girl
+by way of encouragement. Well she knew who the unwelcome stranger from
+New York was. She had keen eyes, and had watched the coach from her
+well-curtained kitchen window as it came in.
+
+That night Hazel told her invalid friend all about Milton Hamar, and
+slept in the pleasant bed that Amelia Ellen had prepared for her, with
+sheets of fragrant linen redolent of sweet clover. Her heart was lighter
+for the simple, kindly advice and the gentle love that had been showered
+upon her. She wondered, as she lay half dozing in the morning with the
+faint odour of coffee and muffins penetrating the atmosphere, why it was
+that she could love this beautiful mother of her hero so much more
+tenderly than she had ever loved any other woman. Was it because she had
+never known her own mother and had longed for one all her life, or was
+it just because she was _his_ dear mother? She gave up trying to answer
+the question and went smiling down to breakfast, and then across the
+road to face her unwelcome lover, strong in the courage that friendly
+counsel had given her.
+
+Milton Hamar left before dinner, having been convinced at last of the
+uselessness of his visit. He hired a man with a horse and cutter to
+drive him across country to catch the New York evening express, and
+Hazel drew a breath of relief and began to find new pleasure in life.
+Her father was off on a business trip for some weeks; her brother had
+gone abroad for the winter with a party of college friends. There was no
+real reason why she should return to New York for some time, and she
+decided to stay and learn of this saintly woman how to look wisely on
+the things of life. To her own heart she openly acknowledged that there
+was a deep pleasure in being near one who talked of the man she loved.
+
+So the winter settled down to business, and Hazel spent happy days with
+her new friends, for Amelia Ellen had become a true friend in the best
+sense of the word.
+
+The maid had found the country winter too lonely and Hazel had found her
+useless and sent her back to town. She was learning by association with
+Amelia Ellen to do a few things for herself. The elderly cousin, whose
+years had been a long strain of scrimping to present a respectable
+exterior, was only too happy to have leisure and quiet to read and
+embroider to her heart's content. So Hazel was free to spend much time
+with Mrs. Brownleigh.
+
+They read together, at least Hazel did the reading, for the older eyes
+were growing dim, and had to be guarded to prevent the terrible
+headaches which came at the slightest provocation and made the days a
+blank of suffering for the lovely soul where patience was having its
+perfect work.
+
+The world of literature opened through a new door to the eager young
+mind now. Books of which she had never heard were at her hand. New
+thoughts and feelings were stirred by them. A few friends who knew Mrs.
+Brownleigh through their summer visits, and others who had known her
+husband, kept her well supplied with the latest and always the best of
+everything--history, biography, essays and fiction. But there were also
+books of a deep spiritual character, and magazines that showed a new
+world, the religious world, to the girl. She read with zest all of them,
+and enjoyed deeply the pleasant converse concerning each. Her eyes were
+being opened to new ways of living. She was beginning to know that there
+was an existence more satisfying than just to go from one round of
+amusement to another. And always, more than in any other thing she read,
+she took a most unusual interest in home missionary literature. It was
+not because it was so new and strange and like a fairy tale, nor because
+she knew her friend enjoyed hearing all this news so much, but because
+it held for her the story of the man she now knew she loved, and who had
+said he loved her. She wanted to put herself into touch with
+surroundings like his, to understand better what he had to endure, and
+why he had not dared to ask her to share his life, his hardship--most
+of all why he had not thought her worthy to suffer with him.
+
+When she grew tired of reading she would go out into the kitchen and
+help Amelia Ellen. It was her own whim that she should learn how to make
+some of the good things to eat for which Amelia Ellen was famous. So
+while her society friends at home went from one gay scene to another,
+dancing and frivolling through the night and sleeping away the morning,
+Hazel bared her round white arms, enveloped herself in a clean
+blue-checked apron, and learned to make bread and pies and gingerbread
+and puddings and doughnuts and fruit-cake, how to cook meats and
+vegetables and make delicious broths from odds and ends, and to concoct
+the most delectable desserts that would tempt the frailest appetite.
+Real old country things they were--no fancy salads and whips and froths
+that society has hunted out to tempt its waning taste till everything
+has palled. She wrote to one of her old friends, who demanded to know
+what she was doing so long up there in the country in the height of the
+season, that she was taking a course in Domestic Science and happily
+recounted her menu of accomplishments. Secretly her heart rejoiced that
+she was become less and less unworthy of the love of the man in whose
+home and at whose mother's side she was learning sweet lessons.
+
+There came letters, of course, from the far-away missionary. Hazel
+stayed later in the kitchen the morning of their arrival, conscious of a
+kind of extra presence in his mother's room when his letters arrived.
+She knew the mother liked to be alone with her son's letters, and that
+she saved her eyes from other reading for them alone. Always the older
+face wore a kind of glorified look when the girl entered after she had
+been reading her letter. The letter itself would be hidden away out of
+sight in the bosom of her soft gray gown, to be read again and again
+when she was alone, but seldom was it brought out in the presence of the
+visitor, much as the mother was growing to love this girl. Frequently
+there were bits of news.
+
+"My son says he is very glad I am having such delightful company this
+winter, and he wants me to thank you from him for reading to me," she
+said once, patting Hazel's hand as she tucked the wool robe about her
+friend's helpless form. And again:
+
+"My son is starting to build a church. He is very happy about it. They
+have heretofore held worship in a schoolhouse. He has collected a good
+deal of the money himself, and he will help to put up the building with
+his own hands. He is going to send me a photograph when it is up. I
+would like to be present when it is dedicated. It makes me very proud to
+have my son doing that."
+
+The next letter brought a photograph, a small snapshot of the canyon,
+tiny, but clear and distinct. Hazel's hand trembled when the mother gave
+it to her to look at, for she knew the very spot. She fancied it was
+quite near the place where they had paused for water. She could feel
+again the cool breath of the canyon, the damp smell of the earth and
+ferns, and hear the call of the wild bird.
+
+Then one day there came a missionary magazine with a short article on
+the work of Arizona and a picture of the missionary mounted on Billy,
+just ready to start from his little shack on a missionary tour.
+
+Hazel, turning the leaves, came upon the picture and held her breath
+with astonishment and delight; then rapidly glanced over the article,
+her heart beating wildly as though she had heard his voice suddenly
+calling to her out of the distances that separated them. She had a
+beautiful time surprising the proud mother with the picture and reading
+the article. From that morning they seemed to have a tenderer tie
+between them, and once, just before Hazel was leaving for the night, the
+mother reached out a detaining hand and laid it on the girl's arm. "I
+wish my boy and you were acquainted, dear," she said wistfully. And
+Hazel, the rich colour flooding her face at once, replied hesitatingly:
+
+"Oh, why--I--feel--almost--as--though--we _were_!" Then she kissed her
+friend on the soft cheek and hurried back to the inn.
+
+It was that night that the telegram came to say that her father had been
+seriously injured in a railway accident and would be brought home at
+once. She had no time to think of anything then but to hurry her
+belongings together and hasten to New York.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+QUALIFYING FOR SERVICE
+
+
+During the six weeks' lingering suffering that followed the accident
+Hazel was never far from her father's bedside. It seemed as though a new
+bond of understanding had come between them.
+
+He was very low and there was little hope from the beginning. As he grew
+weaker he seemed never to want his daughter out of sight, and once when
+he woke suddenly to find her close beside him, a smile of relief spread
+over his face, and he told her in brief words that he had dreamed she
+was lost again in Arizona, and that he had been searching for her with
+the wild beasts howling all about and wicked men prowling in dark caves.
+He told her how during that awful time of her disappearance he had been
+haunted by her face as she was a tiny baby after her mother died, and it
+seemed to him he should go mad if he could not find her at once.
+
+Then to soothe him she told him of the missionary, and how gently he
+had cared for her; told him of all the pleasant little details of the
+way, though not, of course, of his love for her nor hers for him.
+Perhaps the father, with eyes keen from their nearness to the other
+world, discerned something of her interest as she talked, for once he
+sighed and said, in reference to the life of sacrifice the missionary
+was leading: "Well, I don't know but such things are more worth while
+after all."
+
+And then with sudden impulse she told him of her finding his mother, and
+why she had wanted to go to the country in the middle of the society
+season, because she wanted to know more of the peaceful life this woman
+lived.
+
+"Perhaps you will meet him again. Who knows?" said the father, looking
+wistfully at his lovely daughter, and then he turned his head away and
+sighed again.
+
+As the confidence grew between them she told him one day of Milton
+Hamar's unwelcome proposal, and the indignation of the father knew no
+bounds.
+
+It was after that she ventured to read to him from the little book, and
+to tell of the worship held out under the stars in the desert. It came
+to be a habit between them, as the days grew less, that she should read
+the little book, and afterwards he would always lie still as if he were
+asleep.
+
+It was on the words of the precious psalm that he closed his eyes for
+the last time in this world, and it was the psalm that brought comfort
+to the daughter's heart when she came back to the empty house after the
+funeral.
+
+Her brother was there, it is true, but he was afraid of death, and
+wanted to get back to his world again, back to the European trip where
+he had left his friends, and especially a gay young countess who had
+smiled upon him. He was impatient of death and sorrow. Hazel saw that he
+could not comprehend her loneliness, so she bade him go as soon as
+decency would allow, and he was not long in obeying her. He had had his
+own way all his life, and even death was not to deny him.
+
+The work of the trained nurses who had cared for her father interested
+Hazel deeply. She had talked with them about their life and preparation
+for it, and when she could no longer stand the great empty house with
+only Aunt Maria for company, who had come back just before Mr.
+Radcliffe's death, she determined to become a nurse herself.
+
+There was much ado over her decision among her acquaintances, and Aunt
+Maria thought it was not quite respectable for her to do so eccentric a
+thing and so soon after her father's death. She would have preferred to
+have had her run down to Lakewood for a few weeks and then follow her
+brother across the water for a year or two of travel; but Hazel was
+quite determined, and before January was over she was established in the
+hospital, through the influence of their family physician, and
+undergoing her first initiation.
+
+It was not easy thus to give up her life of doing exactly as she pleased
+when she pleased, and become a servant under orders. Her back often
+ached, and her eyes grew heavy with the watching and the ministering,
+and she would be almost ready to give over. Then the thought of the man
+of the desert gave her new courage and strength. It came to her that she
+was partaking with him in the great work of the kingdom, and with this
+thought she would rise and go about the strange new work again, until
+her interest in the individuals to whom she ministered grew deep, and
+she understood in a measure the reason for the glory in the face of the
+missionary as he spoke in the starlight about his work.
+
+Often her heart went out wistfully towards her invalid friend in New
+Hampshire, and she would rest herself by writing a long letter, and
+would cherish the delicately written answers. Now and again there would
+be some slight reference to "my son" in these letters. As the spring
+came on they were more frequent, for May would bring the General
+Assembly, and the son was to be one of the speakers. How her heart
+throbbed when she read that this was certain now. A few days later when
+she happened to read in the daily paper some item about Assembly plans
+and discovered for the first time that it was to meet in New York, she
+found herself in a flutter of joy. Would it be possible for her to hear
+him speak? That was the great question that kept coming and going in her
+mind. Could she arrange it so that she would be sure to be off duty when
+his time came to speak? How could she find out about it all? Thereafter
+her interest in the church news of the daily papers became deep.
+
+Then spring came on with its languid air and the hard round of work,
+with often a call to watch when overcome with weariness, or to do some
+unaccustomed task that tried her undisciplined soul. But the papers were
+full of the coming Assembly, and at last the program and his name!
+
+She laid her plans most carefully, but the case she had been put upon
+that week was very low, dying, and the woman had taken a fancy to her
+and begged her to stay by her till the end. It was a part of the new
+Hazel that she stayed, though her heart rose up in protest and tears of
+disappointment would keep coming to her eyes. The head nurse marked them
+with disapproval and told the house doctor that Radcliffe would never
+make much of a nurse; she had no control over her emotions.
+
+Death came, almost too late, and set her free for the afternoon, but it
+was but half an hour to the time set for his speech, she was three miles
+from the place of meeting and still in her uniform. It was almost
+foolish to try. Nevertheless she hurried to her room and slipped into a
+plain little street suit, the thing that would go on quickest, and was
+away.
+
+It seemed as though every cab and car and mode of transit had conspired
+to hinder her, and five minutes before the time set for the next speech
+she hurried breathless into the dim hallway of a great crowded church,
+and pressed up the stairs to the gallery, through the silent leather
+doors that could scarcely swing open for the crowd inside them, and
+heard at last--_his_ voice!
+
+She was away up at the top of the gallery. Men and women were standing
+close all about her. She could not catch even a glimpse of the platform
+with its array of noble men whose consecration and power and intellects
+had made them great religious leaders. She could not see the young
+commanding figure standing at the edge of the platform, nor catch the
+flash of his brown eyes as he held the audience in his power while he
+told the simple story of his Western work; but she could hear the voice,
+and it went straight to her lonely, sorrowful heart. Straightway the
+church with its mass of packed humanity, its arched and carven ceiling,
+its magnificent stained-glass windows, its wonderful organ and costly
+fittings, faded from her sight, and overhead there arched a dome of dark
+blue pierced with stars, and mountains in the distance with a canyon
+opening, and a flickering fire. She heard the voice speak from its
+natural setting, though her eyes were closed and full of tears.
+
+He finished his story amid a breathless silence on the part of his
+audience, and then with scarcely a break in his voice spoke to God in
+one of his uplifting prayers. The girl, trembling, almost sobbing, felt
+herself included in the prayer, felt again the protection of an unseen
+Presence, felt the benediction in his voice as he said, "Amen," and
+echoed its utmost meaning in her soul.
+
+The audience was still hushed as the speaker turned to go to his seat at
+the back of the platform. A storm of applause had been made impossible
+by that prayer, for heaven opened with the words and God looked down and
+had to do with each soul present. But the applause burst forth after all
+in a moment, for the speaker had whispered a few words to the moderator
+and was hurrying from the platform. There were cries of, "Don't go! Tell
+us more! Keep on till six o'clock!" Hazel could not see a thing though
+she stretched her neck and stood upon the tips of her toes, but she
+clasped her hands tightly together when the applause came, and her heart
+echoed every sound.
+
+The clamour ceased a moment as the moderator raised his hand, and
+explained that the brother to whom they had all been listening with such
+pleasure would be glad to speak to them longer, but that he was
+hastening away to take the train to see his invalid mother who had been
+waiting for two long years for her boy. A pause, a great sigh of
+sympathy and disappointment, and then the applause burst forth again,
+and continued till the young missionary had left the church.
+
+Hazel, in bitter disappointment, turned and slipped out. She had not
+caught a glimpse of his beloved face. She exulted that she had heard the
+honour given him, been a part of those who rejoiced in his power and
+consecration, but she could not have him go without having at least one
+look at him.
+
+She hurried blindly down the stairs, out to the street, and saw a
+carriage standing before the door. The carriage door had just been
+closed, but as she gazed he turned and looked out for an instant,
+lifting his hat in farewell to a group of ministers who stood on the
+church steps. Then the carriage whirled him away and the world grew
+suddenly blank.
+
+She had been behind the men on the steps, just within the shadow of the
+dim doorway. He had not seen her, and of course would not have
+recognized her if he had; yet now she realized that she had
+hoped--oh--what had she not hoped from meeting him here!
+
+But he was gone, and it might be years before he came East again. He had
+utterly put her from his life. He would not think of her again if he did
+come! Oh, the loneliness of a world like this! Why, oh why, had she ever
+gone to the desert to learn the emptiness of her life, when there was
+no other for her anywhere!
+
+The days that followed were very sad and hard. The only thought that
+helped now was that she too had tried to give her life for something
+worth while as he had done, and perhaps it might be accepted. But there
+was a deep unrest in her soul now, a something that she knew she had not
+got that she longed inexpressibly to have. She had learned to cook and
+to nurse. She was not nearly so useless as when she rode all care-free
+upon the desert. She had overcome much of her unworthiness. But there
+was still one great obstacle which unfitted her for companionship and
+partnership with the man of the desert. She had not the something in her
+heart and life that was the source and centre of self-sacrifice. She was
+still unworthy.
+
+There was a long letter about the first of June from her friend in New
+Hampshire, more shakily written, she fancied, than those that had come
+before, and then there came an interval without any reply to hers. She
+had little time, however, to worry about it, for the weather was
+unusually warm and the hospital was full. Her strength was taxed to its
+utmost to fill her round of daily duties. Aunt Maria scolded and
+insisted on a vacation, and finally in high dudgeon betook herself to
+Europe for the summer. The few friends with whom Hazel kept up any
+intercourse hurried away to mountains or sea, and the summer settled
+down to business.
+
+And now in the hot, hot nights when she lay upon her small bed, too
+weary almost to sleep, she would fancy she heard again that voice as he
+spoke in the church, or longer ago in the desert; and sometimes she
+could think she felt the breeze of the desert night upon her hot
+forehead.
+
+The head nurse and the house doctor decided Radcliffe needed a change
+and suggested a few days at the shore with a convalescing patient, but
+Hazel's heart turned from the thought, and she insisted upon sticking to
+her post. She clung to the thought that she could at least be faithful.
+It was what he would do, and in so much she would be like him, and
+worthy of his love.
+
+It was the last thought in her mind before she fainted on the broad
+marble staircase with a tiny baby in her arms, and fell to the bottom.
+The baby was uninjured, but it took a long time to bring the nurse back
+to consciousness, and still longer to put heart into her again.
+
+"She isn't fit for the work!" she heard the biting tongue of the head
+nurse declare. "She's too frail and pretty and--emotional. She feels
+everybody's troubles. Now I never let a case worry me in the least!" And
+the house doctor eyed her knowingly and said in his heart:
+
+"Any one would know that."
+
+But Hazel, listening, was more disheartened than ever. Then here, too,
+she was failing and was adjudged unworthy!
+
+The next morning there came a brief, blunt note from Amelia Ellen: "Dear
+Mis Raclift Ef yore a trainurse why don't yo cum an' take car o' my Mis
+Brownleigh She aint long fer heer an she's wearyin to see yo She as
+gotta hev one, a trainurse I mean Yors respectfooly Amelia Ellen Stout."
+
+After an interview with the house doctor and another with her old family
+physician, Hazel packed up her uniforms and departed for New Hampshire.
+
+It was the evening of her arrival, after the gentle invalid had been
+prepared for sleep and left in the quiet and dark, that Amelia Ellen
+told the story:
+
+"She ain't ben the same since John went back. Seems like she sort o'
+sensed thet he wouldn't come again while she was livin'. She tole me the
+next day a lot of things she wanted done after she was gone, and she's
+ben gettin' ready to leave this earth ever since. Not that she's gloomy,
+oh, my senses no! She's jes' as interested as can be in her flowers, and
+in folks, an' the church, but she don't want to try to do so many
+things, and she has them weak, fainty spells oftener, an' more pain in
+her heart. She sits fer long hours with jest her Bible open now, but
+land, she don't need to read it! She knows it most by heart--that is the
+livin' parts, you know. She don't seem to care 'tall fer them magazine
+articles now any more. I wish t' the land they'd be anuther Gen'l
+'Sembly! Thet was the greatest thing fer her. She jest acted like she
+was tendin' every blessed one o' them meetin's. Why, she couldn't wait
+fer me t' git done my breakfast dishes. She'd want me t' fix her up fer
+the day, an' then set down an' read their doin's. 'We kin let things go,
+you know, 'Meelia Ellen,' she'd say with her sweet little smile, 'just
+while the meetin's last. Then when it's over they'll be time 'nough fer
+work--an' rest too, 'Meelia Ellen,' says she. Well, seems like she was
+just 'tendin' those meetin's herself, same es if she was there. She'd
+take her nap like it was a pill, er somethin', and then be wide awake
+an' ready fer her afternoon freshenin', an' then she'd watch fer the
+stage to bring the evenin' paper. John, he hed a whole cartload o'
+papers sent, an' the day he spoke they was so many I jes' couldn't get
+my bread set. I hed to borry a loaf off the inn. First time that's ever
+happened to me either. I jest hed to set an' read till my back ached,
+and my eyes swum. I never read so much in my whole borned days t' oncet;
+an' I've done a good bit o' readin' in my time, too, what with nursin'
+her an' bein' companion to a perfessor's invaleed daughter one summer.
+
+"Wal, seems like she jest went on an' on, gettin' workeder-up an'
+workeder-up, till the 'Sembly closed, an' he come; and she was clear to
+the top o' the heap all them three weeks whilst he was here. Why, I
+never seen her so bright since when I was a little girl an' went to her
+Sunday-school class, an' she wore a poke bonnet trimmed with lute-string
+ribbon an' a rose inside. Talk 'bout roses--they wasn't one in the
+garden as bright an' pink as her two cheeks, an' her eyes shone jest fer
+all the world like his. I was terrible troubled lest she'd break down,
+but she didn't. She got brighter an' brighter. Let him take her out
+ridin', an' let him carry her into the orchard an' lay her down under
+the apple boughs where she could reach a wild strawberry herself. Why,
+she hedn't ben off'n the porch sence he went away two years ago. But
+every day he stayed she got brighter. The last day 'fore he left she
+seemed like she wasn't sick at all. She wanted to get up early, an' she
+wouldn't take no nap, 'cause she said she couldn't waste a minute of the
+last day. Well, she actu'lly got on her feet oncet an' made him walk her
+crost the porch. She hedn't ben on her feet fer more'n a minute fer ten
+months, an' 'twas more'n she could stan'. She was jest as bright an'
+happy all thet day, an' when he went 'way she waved her hand as happy
+like an' smiled an' said she was glad to be able to send him back to his
+work. But she never said a word about his comin' back. He kep' sayin' he
+would come back next spring, but she only smiled, an' tole him he might
+not be able to leave his work, an' 'twas all right. She wanted him to be
+faithful.
+
+"Well, he went, an' the coach hedn't no more'n got down the hill an' up
+again an' out o' sight behind the bridge 'fore she calls to me an' she
+says, ''Meelia Ellen, I believe I'm tired with all the goin's on there's
+been, an' if you don't mind I think I'll take a nap.' So I helps her
+into her room and fixes her into her night things an' thur she's laid
+ever since, an' it's six whole weeks ef it's a day. Every mornin' fer a
+spell I'd go in an' say, 'Ain't you ready fer me to fix you fer the day,
+Mis' Brownleigh?' An' she'd jest smile an' say, 'Well, I b'leeve not
+just now, 'Meelia Ellen. I think I'll just rest to-day yet. Maybe I'll
+feel stronger to-morrow'; but to-morrow never comes, an' it's my
+thinkin' she'll never git up agin."
+
+The tears were streaming down the good woman's cheeks now and Hazel's
+eyes were bright with tears too. She had noticed the transparency of the
+delicate flesh, the frailness of the wrinkled hands. The woman's words
+brought conviction to her heart also.
+
+"What does the doctor say?" she asked, catching at a hope.
+
+"Well, he ain't much fer talk," said Amelia Ellen lifting her
+tear-stained face from her gingham apron where it had been bowed. "It
+seems like them two hev just got a secret between 'em thet they won't
+say nothin' 'bout it. Seems like he understands, and knows she don't
+want folks to talk about it nor worry 'bout her."
+
+"But her son----" faltered Hazel. "He ought to be told!"
+
+"Yes, but 'tain't no use; she won't let yeh. I ast her oncet didn't she
+want me to write him to come an' make her a little visit just to chirk
+her up, and she shook her head and looked real frightened, and she says:
+''Meelia Ellen, don't you never go to sendin' fer him 'thout lettin' me
+know. I should _not_ like it _'tall_. He's out there doin' his work, an'
+I'm happier havin' him at it. A missionary can't take time traipsin'
+round the country every time a relative gets a little down. I'm jest
+perfectly all right, 'Meelia Ellen, only I went pretty hard durin'
+'Sembly week, and when John was here, an' I'm restin' up fer a while. If
+I want John sent fer I'll tell you, but _don't you go to doin' it
+'fore_!' An' I really b'leeve she'd be mad at me if I did. She lots a
+good deal on givin' her son, an' it would sort o' spoil her sakkerfize,
+I s'pose, to hev him come back every time she hungers fer him. I b'leeve
+in my heart she's plannin' to slip away quiet and not bother him to say
+good-bye. It jest looks thet way to me."
+
+But the next few days the invalid brightened perceptibly, and Hazel
+began to be reassured. Sweet converse they had together, and the girl
+heard the long pleasant story of the son's visit home as the mother
+dwelt lovingly upon each detail, telling it over and over, until the
+listener felt that every spot within sight of the invalid's window was
+fragrant with his memory. She enjoyed the tale as much as the teller,
+and knew just how to give the answer that one loving woman wants from
+another loving woman when they speak of the beloved.
+
+Then when the story all was told over and over and there was nothing
+more to tell except the pleasant recalling of a funny speech, or some
+tender happening, Hazel began to ask deeper questions about the things
+of life and eternity; and step by step the older woman led her in the
+path she had led her son through all the years of his childhood.
+
+During this time she seemed to grow stronger again. There were days when
+she sat up for a little while, and let them put the meals on a tiny
+swinging table by her chair; and she took a deep interest in leading the
+girl to a heavenly knowledge. Every day she asked for her writing
+materials and wrote for a little while; yet Hazel noticed that she did
+not send all that she had written in the envelope of the weekly letters,
+but laid it away carefully in her writing portfolio as if it were
+something yet unfinished.
+
+And one evening in late September, when the last rays of the sunset were
+lying across the foot of the wheeled chair, and Amelia Ellen was
+building a bit of a fire in the fireplace because it seemed chilly, the
+mother called Hazel to her and handed her a letter sealed and addressed
+to her son.
+
+"Dear," she said gently, "I want you to take this letter and put it away
+carefully and keep it until I am gone, and then I want you to promise
+that, if possible for you to do it, you will give it to my son with your
+own hands."
+
+Hazel took the letter reverently, her heart filled with awe and sorrow
+and stooped anxiously over her friend. "Oh, why"--she cried--"what is
+the matter? Do you feel worse to-night? You have seemed so bright all
+day."
+
+"Not a bit," said the invalid cheerily. "But I have been writing this
+for a long time--a sort of good-bye to my boy--and there is nobody in
+the world I would like to have give it to him as well as you. Will it
+trouble you to promise me, my dear?"
+
+Hazel with kisses and tears protested that she would be glad to fulfill
+the mission, but begged that she might be allowed to send for the
+beloved son at once, for a sight of his face, she knew, would be good to
+his mother.
+
+At last her fears were allayed, though she was by no means sure that
+the son ought not to be sent for, and when the invalid was happily gone
+to sleep, Hazel went to her room and tried to think how she might write
+a letter that would not alarm the young man, while yet it would bring
+him to his mother's side. She planned how she would go away herself for
+a few days, so that he need not find her here. She wrote several stiff
+little notes but none of them satisfied her. Her heart longed to write:
+"Oh, my dear! Come quickly, for your beloved mother needs you. Come, for
+my heart is crying out for the sight of you! Come at once!" But finally
+before she slept she sealed and addressed a dignified letter from Miss
+Radcliffe, his mother's trained nurse, suggesting that he make at least
+a brief visit at this time as she must be away for a few days, and she
+felt that his presence would be a wise thing. His mother did not seem so
+well as when he was with her. Then she lay down comforted to sleep. But
+the letter was never sent.
+
+In the early dawn of the morning, when the faithful Amelia Ellen slipped
+from her couch in the alcove just off the invalid's room, and went to
+touch a match to the carefully laid fire in the fireplace, she passed
+the bed and, as had been her custom for years, glanced to see if all
+was well with her patient; at once she knew that the sweet spirit of the
+mother had fled.
+
+With her face slightly turned away, a smile of good-night upon her lips,
+and the peace of God upon her brow, the mother had entered into her
+rest.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE CALL OF THE DESERT
+
+
+Hazel, with her eyes blinded with tears and her heart swelling with the
+loss of the woman upon whose motherliness she had come to feel a claim,
+burned the letter she had written the night before, and sent a carefully
+worded telegram, her heart yearning with sympathy towards the bereaved
+son.
+
+"Your dear mother has gone home, quietly, in her sleep. She did not seem
+any worse than usual, and her last words were of you. Let us know at
+once what plans we shall make. Nurse Radcliffe." That was the telegram
+she sent.
+
+Poor Amelia Ellen was all broken up. Her practical common sense for once
+had fled her. She would do nothing but weep and moan for the beloved
+invalid whom she had served so long and faithfully. It fell to Hazel to
+make all decisions, though the neighbours and old friends were most kind
+with offers of help. Hazel waited anxiously for an answer to the
+telegram, but night fell and no answer had come. There had been a storm
+and something was wrong with the wires. The next morning, however, she
+sent another telegram, and about noon still a third, with as yet no
+response. She thought perhaps he had not waited to telegraph but had
+started immediately, and might be with them in a few hours. She watched
+the evening stage, but he did not come; then realized how her heart was
+in a flutter, and wondered how she would have had strength to meet him
+had he come. There was the letter from his mother, and her promise. She
+had that excuse for her presence--of course she could not have left
+under the circumstances. Yet she shrank from the meeting, for it seemed
+somehow a breach of etiquette that she should be the one to break the
+separation that he had chosen should be between them.
+
+However, he did not come, and the third morning, when it became
+imperative that something definite should be known, a telegram to the
+station agent in Arizona brought answer that the missionary was away on
+a long trip among some tribes of Indians; that his exact whereabouts was
+not known, but messengers had been sent after him, and word would be
+sent as soon as possible. The minister and the old neighbours advised
+with Amelia Ellen and Hazel, and made simple plans for the funeral, yet
+hoped and delayed as long as possible, and when at last after repeated
+telegrams there still came the answer, "Messenger not yet returned,"
+they bore the worn-out body of the woman to a quiet resting place beside
+her beloved husband in the churchyard on the hillside where the soft
+maples scattered bright covering over the new mound, and the sky arched
+high with a kind of triumphant reminder of where the spirit was gone.
+
+Hazel tried to have every detail just as she thought he would have liked
+it. The neighbours brought of their homely flowers in great quantities,
+and some city friends who had been old summer boarders sent hot-house
+roses. The minister conducted the beautiful service of faith, and the
+village children sang about the casket of their old friend, who had
+always loved every one of them, their hands full of the late flowers
+from her own garden, bright scarlet and blue and gold, as though it were
+a joyous occasion. Indeed, Hazel had the impression, even as she moved
+in the hush of the presence of death, that she was helping at some
+solemn festivity of deep joy instead of a funeral--so glorious had been
+the hope of the one who was gone, so triumphant her faith in her
+Saviour.
+
+After the funeral was over Hazel sat down and wrote a letter telling
+about it all, filling it with sympathy, trying to show their effort to
+have things as he would have liked them, and expressing deep sorrow that
+they had been compelled to go on with the service without him.
+
+That night there came a message from the Arizona station agent. The
+missionary had been found in a distant Indian hogan with a dislocated
+ankle. He sent word that they must not wait for him; that he would get
+there in time, if possible. A later message the next day said he was
+still unable to travel, but would get to the railroad as soon as
+possible. Then came an interval of several days without any word from
+Arizona.
+
+Hazel went about with Amelia Ellen, putting the house in order, hearing
+the beautiful plaint of the loving-hearted, mourning servant as she told
+little incidents of her mistress. Here was the chair she sat in the last
+time she went up-stairs to oversee the spring regulating, and that was
+Mr. John's little baby dress in which he was christened. His mother
+smoothed it out and told her the story of his baby loveliness one day.
+She had laid it away herself in the box with the blue shoes and the
+crocheted cap. It was the last time she ever came up-stairs.
+
+There was the gray silk dress she wore to weddings and dinner parties
+before her husband died, and beneath it in the trunk was the white
+embroidered muslin that was her wedding gown. Yellow with age it was,
+and delicate as a spider's web, with frostwork of yellowed broidery
+strewn quaintly on its ancient form, and a touch of real lace. Hazel
+laid a reverent hand on the fine old fabric, and felt, as she looked
+through the treasures of the old trunk, that an inner sanctuary of
+sweetness had been opened for her glimpsing.
+
+At last a letter came from the West.
+
+It was addressed to "Miss Radcliffe, Nurse," in Brownleigh's firm, clear
+hand, and began: "Dear madam." Hazel's hand trembled as she opened it,
+and the "dear madam" brought the tears to her eyes; but then, of course,
+he did not know.
+
+He thanked her, with all the kindliness and courtliness of his mother's
+son, for her attendance on his dear mother, and told her of many
+pleasant things his mother had written of her ministrations. He spoke
+briefly of his being laid up lamed in the Indian reservation and his
+deep grief that he had been unable to come East to be beside his mother
+during her last hours, but went on to say that it had been his mother's
+wish, many times expressed, that he should not leave his post to come to
+her, and that there need be "no sadness of farewell" when she
+"embarked," and that though it was hard for him he knew it was a
+fulfillment of his mother's desires. And now that she was gone, and the
+last look upon her dear face was impossible, he had decided that he
+could not bear it just yet to come home and see all the dear familiar
+places with her face gone. He would wait a little while, until he had
+grown used to the thought of her in heaven, and then it would not be so
+hard. Perhaps he would not come home until next spring, unless something
+called him; he could not tell. And in any case, his injured ankle
+prevented him making the journey at present, no matter how much he may
+desire to do so. Miss Radcliffe's letter had told him that everything
+had been done just as he would have had it done. There was nothing
+further to make it a necessity that he should come. He had written to
+his mother's lawyer to arrange his mother's few business affairs, and it
+only remained for him to express his deep gratitude towards those who
+had stood by his dear mother when it had been made impossible for him
+to do so. He closed with a request that the nurse would give him her
+permanent address that he might be sure to find her when he found it
+possible to come East again, as he would enjoy thanking her face to face
+for what she had been to his mother.
+
+That was all.
+
+Hazel felt a blank dizziness settle down over her as she finished the
+letter. It put him miles away from her again, with years perhaps before
+another sight of him. She suddenly seemed fearfully alone in a world
+that no longer interested her. Where should she go; what to do with her
+life now? Back to the hard grind of the hospital with nobody to care,
+and the heartrending scenes and tragedies that were daily enacted?
+Somehow her strength seemed to go from her at the thought. Here, too,
+she had failed. She was not fit for the life, and the hospital people
+had discovered it and sent her away to nurse her friend and try to get
+well. They had been kind and talked about when she should return to
+them, but she knew in her heart they felt her unfit and did not want her
+back.
+
+Should she go back to her home, summon her brother and aunt, and plunge
+into society again? The very idea sickened her. Never again would she
+care for that life, she was certain. As she searched her heart to see
+what it was she really craved, if anything in the whole wide world, she
+found her only interest was in the mission field of Arizona, and now
+that her dear friend was gone she was cut off from knowing anything much
+about that.
+
+She gathered herself together after a while and told Amelia Ellen of the
+decision of Mr. Brownleigh, and together they planned how the house
+should be closed, and everything put in order to await its master's will
+to return. But that night Hazel could not sleep, for suddenly, in the
+midst of her sad reflections, came the thought of the letter that was
+left in her trust.
+
+It had been forgotten during the strenuous days that had followed the
+death of its writer. Hazel had thought of it only once, and that on the
+first morning, with a kind of comforting reflection that it would help
+the son to bear his sorrow, and she was glad that it was her privilege
+to put it into his hand. Then the perplexities of the occasion had
+driven it from her thoughts. Now it came back like a swift light in a
+dark place. There was yet the letter which she must give him. It was a
+precious bond that would hold him to her for a little while longer. But
+how should she give it to him?
+
+Should she send it by mail? No, for that would not be fulfilling the
+letter of her promise. She knew the mother wished her to give it to him
+herself. Well, then, should she write and summon him to his old home at
+once, tell him of the letter and yet refuse to send it to him? How
+strange that would seem! How could she explain it to him? His mother's
+whim might be sacred to him--would be, of course--but he would think it
+strange that a young woman should make so much of it as not to trust the
+letter to the mail now that the circumstances made it impossible for him
+to come on at once.
+
+Neither would it do for her to keep the letter until such a time as he
+should see fit to return to the East and look her up. It might be years.
+
+The puzzling question kept whirling itself about in her mind for hours
+until at last she formulated a plan which seemed to solve the problem.
+
+The plan was this. She would coax Amelia Ellen to take a trip to
+California with her, and on the way they would stop in Arizona and give
+the letter into the hands of the young man. By that time no doubt his
+injured ankle would be sufficiently strong to allow his return from the
+journey to the Indian reservation. She would say that she was going West
+and, as she had promised his mother she would put the letter into his
+hands, she had taken this opportunity to stop off and keep her promise.
+The trip would be a good thing for Amelia Ellen too, and take her mind
+off her loneliness for the mistress who was gone.
+
+Eagerly she broached the subject to Amelia Ellen the next morning, and
+was met with a blank face of dismay.
+
+"I couldn't noways you'd fix it, my dearie," she said sadly shaking her
+head. "I'd like nuthin' better'n to see them big trees out in Californy
+I've been hearin' 'bout all my life; an' summer an' winter with snow on
+the mountains what some of the boarders 't the inn tells 'bout; but I
+can't bring it 'bout. You see it's this way. Peter Burley 'n' I ben
+promused fer nigh on to twelve year now, an' when he ast me I said no, I
+couldn't leave Mis' Brownleigh long's she needed me; an' he sez will I
+marry him the week after she dies, an' I sez I didn't like no sech
+dismal way o' puttin' it; an' he sez well, then, will I marry him the
+week after she don't need me no more; an' I sez yes, I will, an' now I
+gotta keep my promus! I can't go back on my faithful word. I'd like
+real well to see them big trees, but I gotta keep my promus! You see
+he's waited long 'nough, an' he's ben real patient. Not always he cud
+get to see me every week, an' he might 'a' tuk Delmira that cooked to
+the inn five year ago. She'd 'a' had him in a minnit, an' she done her
+best to git him, but he stayed faithful, an' he sez, sez he, ''Meelia
+El'n, ef you're meanin' to keep your word, I'll wait ef it's a lifetime,
+but I hope you won't make it any longer'n you need;' an' the night he
+said that I promused him agin I'd be hisn soon ez ever I was free to
+do's I pleased. I'd like to see them big trees, but I can't do it. I
+jes' can't do it."
+
+Now Hazel was not a young woman who was easily balked in her plans when
+once they were made. She was convinced that the only thing to do was to
+take this trip and that Amelia Ellen was the only person in the world
+she wanted for a companion; therefore she made immediate acquaintance
+with Peter Burley, a heavy-browed, thoughtful, stolid man, who looked
+his character of patient lover, every inch of him, blue overalls and
+all. Hazel's heart almost misgave her as she unfolded her plan to his
+astonished ears, and saw the look of blank dismay that overspread his
+face. However, he had not waited all these years to refuse his
+sweetheart anything in reason now. He drew a deep sigh, inquired how
+long the trip as planned would take, allowed he "could wait another
+month ef that would suit," and turned patiently to his barn-yard to
+think his weary thoughts, and set his hopes a little further ahead. Then
+Hazel's heart misgave her. She called after him and suggested that
+perhaps he might like to have the marriage first and go with them,
+taking the excursion as a wedding trip. She would gladly pay all
+expenses if he would. But the man shook his head.
+
+"I couldn't leave the stock fer that long, ennyhow you fix it. Thur
+ain't no one would know to take my place. Besides, I never was fer
+takin' journeys; but 'Meelia Ellen, she's allus ben of a sprightlier
+disposition, an' ef she hez a hankerin' after Californy, I 'spect she'll
+be kinder more contented like ef she sees 'em first an' then settles
+down in Granville. She better go while she's got the chancet."
+
+Amelia Ellen succumbed, albeit with tears. Hazel could not tell whether
+she was more glad or sad at the prospect before her. Whiles Amelia Ellen
+wept and bemoaned the fate of poor Burley, and whiles she questioned
+whether there really were any big trees like what you saw in the
+geographies with riding parties sitting contentedly in tunnels through
+their trunks. But at last she consented to go, and with many an
+injunction from the admiring and envious neighbours who came to see them
+off, Amelia Ellen bade a sobbing good-bye to her solemn lover in the
+gray dawn of an October morning, climbed into the stage beside Hazel,
+and they drove away into the mystery of the great world. As she looked
+back at her Peter, standing patient, stooped and gray in the familiar
+village street, looking after his departing sweetheart who was going out
+sightseeing into the world, Amelia Ellen would almost have jumped out
+over the wheel and run back if it had not been for what the neighbours
+would say, for her heart was Burley's; and now that the big trees were
+actually pulling harder than Burley, and she had decided to go and see
+them, Burley began by his very acquiescence to pull harder than the big
+trees. It was a very teary Amelia Ellen who climbed into the train a few
+hours later, looking back dismally, hopelessly, towards the old stage
+they had just left, and wondering after all if she ever would get back
+to Granville safe and alive again. Strange fears visited her of dangers
+that might come to Burley during her absence, which if they did she
+would never forgive herself for having left him; strange horrors of the
+way of things that might hinder her return; and she began to regard her
+hitherto beloved travelling companion with almost suspicion, as if she
+were a conspirator against her welfare.
+
+However, as the miles grew and the wonders of the way multiplied, Amelia
+Ellen began to sit up and take notice, and to have a sort of excited
+exultance that she had come; for were they not nearing the great famed
+West now, and would it not soon be time to see the big trees and turn
+back home again? She was almost glad she had come. She would be wholly
+glad she had done so when she had got back safely home once more.
+
+And so one evening about sunset they arrived at the little station in
+Arizona which over a year ago Hazel had left in her father's private
+car.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+HOME
+
+
+Amelia Ellen, stiff from the unaccustomed travel, powdered with the dust
+of the desert, wearied with the excitement of travel and lack of sleep
+amid her strange surroundings, stepped down upon the wooden platform and
+surveyed the magnificent distance between herself and anywhere; observed
+the vast emptiness, with awful purpling mountains and limitless
+stretches of vari-coloured ground arched by a dome of sky, higher and
+wider and more dazzling than her stern New Hampshire soul had ever
+conceived, and turned panic-stricken back to the train which was already
+moving away from the little station. Her first sensation had been one of
+relief at feeling solid ground under her feet once more, for this was
+the first trip into the world Amelia Ellen had ever made, and the cars
+bewildered her. Her second impulse was to get back into that train as
+fast as her feet could carry her and get this awful journey done so that
+she might earn the right to return to her quiet home and her faithful
+lover.
+
+But the train was well under way. She looked after it half in envy. It
+could go on with its work and not have to stop in this wild waste.
+
+She gazed about again with the frightened look a child deserted gives
+before it puckers its lips and screams.
+
+Hazel was talking composedly with the rough-looking man on the platform,
+who wore a wide felt hat and a pistol in his belt. He didn't look even
+respectable to Amelia Ellen's provincial eyes. And behind him, horror of
+horrors! loomed a real live Indian, long hair, high cheek bones, blanket
+and all, just as she had seen them in the geography! Her blood ran cold!
+Why, oh why, had she ever been left to do this daring thing--to leave
+civilization and come away from her good man and the quiet home awaiting
+her to certain death in the desert. All the stories of horrid scalpings
+she had ever heard appeared before her excited vision. With a gasp she
+turned again to the departing train, which had become a mere speck on
+the desert, and even as she looked vanished around a curve and was lost
+in the dim foot-hills of a mountain!
+
+Poor Amelia Ellen! Her head reeled and her heart sank. The vast prairie
+engulfed her, as it were, and she stood trembling and staring in dazed
+expectancy of an attack from earth or air or sky. The very sky and
+ground seemed tottering together and threatening to extinguish her, and
+she closed her eyes, caught her breath and prayed for Peter. It had been
+her habit always in any emergency to pray for Peter Burley.
+
+It was no better when they took her to the eating-house across the
+track. She picked her way among the evil-looking men, and surveyed the
+long dining table with its burden of coarse food and its board seats
+with disdain, declined to take off her hat when she reached the room to
+which the slatternly woman showed them because she said there was no
+place to lay it down that was fit; scorned the simple bed, refused to
+wash her hands at the basin furnished for all, and made herself more
+disagreeable than Hazel had dreamed her gentle, serviceable Amelia Ellen
+ever could have been. No supper would she eat, nor would she remain long
+at the table after the men began to file in, with curious eyes towards
+the strangers.
+
+She stalked to the rough, unroofed porch in the front and stared off at
+the dark vastness, afraid of the wild strangeness, afraid of the
+looming mountains, afraid of the multitude of stars. She said it was
+ridiculous to have so many stars. It wasn't natural. It was irreverent.
+It was like looking too close into heaven when you weren't intended to.
+
+And then a blood-curdling sound arose! It made her very hair stand on
+end. She turned with wild eyes and grasped Hazel's arm, but she was too
+frightened to utter a sound. Hazel had just come out to sit with her.
+The men out of deference to the strangers had withdrawn from their
+customary smoking place on the porch to the back of the wood-pile behind
+the house. They were alone--the two women--out there in the dark, with
+that awful, awful sound!
+
+Amelia Ellen's white lips framed the words "Indians"? "War-whoop"? but
+her throat refused her sound and her breath came short.
+
+"Coyotes!" laughed Hazel, secure in her wide experience, with almost a
+joyous ring to her voice. The sound of those distant beasts assured her
+that she was in the land of her beloved at last and her soul rejoiced.
+
+"Coy--oh----" but Amelia Ellen's voice was lost in the recesses of her
+skimpy pillow whither she had fled to bury her startled ears. She had
+heard of coyotes, but she had never imagined to hear one outside of a
+zooelogical garden, of which she had read and always hoped one day to
+visit. There she lay on her hard little bed and quaked until Hazel,
+laughing still, came to find her; but all she could get from the poor
+soul was a pitiful plaint about Burley. "And what would he say if I was
+to be et with one of them creatures? He'd never forgive me, never, never
+s'long 's I lived! I hadn't ough' to 'a' come. I hadn't ough' to 'a'
+come!"
+
+Nothing Hazel could say would allay her fears. She listened with horror
+as the girl attempted to show how harmless the beasts were by telling of
+her own night ride up the canyon, and how nothing harmed her. Amelia
+Ellen merely looked at her with frozen glance made fiercer by the
+flickering candle flare, and answered dully: "An' you knew 'bout 'em all
+'long, an' yet you brung me! It ain't what I thought you'd do! Burley,
+he'll never fergive me s'long 's I live ef I get et up. It ain't ez if I
+was all alone in the world, you know. I got him to think of an' I can't
+afford to run no resks of bein' et, _ef you can_."
+
+Not a wink of sleep did she get that night and when the morning dawned
+and to the horrors of the night were added a telegram from a neighbour
+of Burley's saying that Burley had fallen from the haymow and broken his
+leg, but he sent his respects and hoped they'd have a good journey,
+Amelia Ellen grew uncontrollable. She declared she would not stay in
+that awful country another minute. That she would take the first train
+back--back to her beloved New Hampshire which she never again would
+leave so long as her life was spared, unless Burley went along. She
+would not even wait until Hazel had delivered her message. How could two
+lone women deliver a message in a land like that? Never, _never_ would
+she ride, drive or walk, no, nor even set foot on the sand of the
+desert. She would sit by the track until a train came along and she
+would not even look further than she need. The frenzy of fear which
+sometimes possesses simple people at sight of a great body of water, or
+a roaring torrent pouring over a precipice, had taken possession of her
+at sight of the desert. It filled her soul with its immensity, and poor
+Amelia Ellen had a great desire to sit down on the wooden platform and
+grasp firm hold of something until a train came to rescue her from this
+awful emptiness which had tried to swallow her up.
+
+Poor Peter, with his broken leg, was her weird cry! One would think she
+had broken it with the wheels of the car in which she had travelled away
+from him by the way she took on about it and blamed herself. The tragedy
+of a broken vow and its consequences was the subject of her discourse.
+Hazel laughed, then argued, and finally cried and besought; but nothing
+could avail. Go she would, and that speedily, back to her home.
+
+When it became evident that arguments and tears were of no use and that
+Amelia Ellen was determined to go home with or without her, Hazel
+withdrew to the front porch and took counsel with the desert in its
+morning brightness, with the purple luring mountains, and the smiling
+sky. Go back on the train that would stop at the station in half an
+hour, with the desert there, and the wonderful land, and its strange,
+wistful people, and not even see a glimpse of him she loved? Go back
+with the letter still in her possession and her message still ungiven?
+Never! Surely she was not afraid to stay long enough to send for him.
+The woman who had fed them and sheltered them for the night would be her
+protector. She would stay. There must be some woman of refinement and
+culture somewhere near by to whom she could go for a few days until her
+errand was performed; and what was her training in the hospital worth
+if it did not give her some independence? Out here in the wild free West
+women had to protect themselves. She could surely stay in the
+uncomfortable quarters where she was for another day until she could get
+word to the missionary. Then she could decide whether to proceed on her
+journey alone to California, or to go back home. There was really no
+reason why she should not travel alone if she chose; plenty of young
+women did and, anyway, the emergency was not of her choosing. Amelia
+Ellen would make herself sick fretting over her Burley, that was plain,
+if she were detained even a few hours. Hazel came back to the nearly
+demented Amelia Ellen with her chin tilted firmly and a straight little
+set of her sweet lips which betokened stubbornness. The train came in a
+brief space of time, and, weeping but firm, Amelia Ellen boarded it,
+dismayed at the thought of leaving her dear young lady, yet stubbornly
+determined to go. Hazel gave her the ticket and plenty of money, charged
+the conductor to look after her, waved a brave farewell and turned back
+to the desert alone.
+
+A brief conference with the woman who had entertained them, who was also
+the wife of the station agent, brought out the fact that the missionary
+was not yet returned from his journey, but a message received from him a
+few days before spoke of his probable return on the morrow or the day
+after. The woman advised that the lady go to the fort where visitors
+were always welcomed and where there were luxuries more fitted to the
+stranger's habit. She eyed the dainty apparel of her guest enviously as
+she spoke, and Hazel, keenly alive to the meaning of her look, realized
+that the woman, like the missionary, had judged her unfit for life in
+the desert. She was half determined to stay where she was until the
+missionary's return, and show that she could adapt herself to any
+surroundings, but she saw that the woman was anxious to have her gone.
+It probably put her out to have a guest of another world than her own.
+
+The woman told her that a trusty Indian messenger was here from the fort
+and was riding back soon. If the lady cared she could get a horse and go
+under his escort. She opened her eyes in wonder when Hazel asked if
+there was to be a woman in the party, and whether she could not leave
+her work for a little while and ride over with them if she would pay her
+well for the service.
+
+"Oh, you needn't bring none o' them fine lady airs out here!" she
+declared rudely. "We-all ain't got time fer no sech foolery. You needn't
+be afraid to go back with Joe. He takes care of the women at the fort.
+He'll look after you fine. You'll mebbe kin hire a horse to ride, an'
+strop yer baggage on. Yer trunk ye kin leave here."
+
+Hazel, half frightened at the position she had allowed herself to be
+placed in, considered the woman's words, and when she had looked upon
+the Indian's stolid countenance decided to accept his escort. He was an
+old man with furrowed face and sad eyes that looked as if they could
+tell great secrets, but there was that in his face that made her trust
+him, she knew not why.
+
+An hour later, her most necessary baggage strapped to the back of the
+saddle on a wicked-looking little pony, Hazel, with a sense of deep
+excitement, mounted and rode away behind the solemn, silent Indian. She
+was going to the fort to ask shelter, until her errand was accomplished,
+of the only women in that region who would be likely to take her in. She
+had a feeling that the thing she was doing was a most wild and
+unconventional proceeding and would come under the grave condemnation of
+her aunt, and all her New York friends. She was most thankful that they
+were far away and could not interfere, for somehow she felt that she
+must do it anyway. She must put that letter, with her own hands, into
+the possession of its owner.
+
+It was a most glorious morning. The earth and the heavens seemed newly
+made for the day. Hazel felt a gladness in her soul that would not down,
+even when she thought of poor Amelia Ellen crouched in her corner of the
+sleeper, miserable at her desertion, yet determined to go. She thought
+of the dear mother, and wondered if 'twere given to her to know now how
+she was trying to fulfill her last wish. It was pleasant to think she
+knew and was glad, and Hazel felt as though her presence were near and
+protecting her.
+
+The silent Indian made few remarks. He rode ahead always with a grave,
+thoughtful expression, like a student whose thoughts are not to be
+disturbed. He nodded gravely in answer to the questions Hazel asked him
+whenever they stopped to water the horses, but he volunteered no
+information beyond calling her attention to a lame foot her pony was
+developing.
+
+Several times Joe got down and examined the pony's foot, and shook his
+head, with a grunt of worried disapproval. Presently as the miles went
+by Hazel began to notice the pony's lameness herself, and became alarmed
+lest he would break down altogether in the midst of the desert. Then
+what would the Indian do? Certainly not give her his horse and foot it,
+as the missionary had done. She could not expect that every man in this
+desert was like the one who had cared for her before. What a foolish
+girl she had been to get herself into this fix! And now there was no
+father to send out search parties for her, and no missionary at home to
+find her!
+
+The dust, the growing heat of the day, and the anxiety began to wear
+upon her. She was tired and hungry, and when at noon the Indian
+dismounted beside a water-hole where the water tasted of sheep who had
+passed through but a short time before, and handed her a package of corn
+bread and cold bacon, while he withdrew to the company of the horses for
+his own siesta, she was feign to put her head down on the coarse grass
+and weep for her folly in coming out to this wild country alone, or at
+least in being so headstrong as to stay when Amelia Ellen deserted her.
+Then the thought suddenly occurred to her: how would Amelia Ellen have
+figured in this morning's journey on horseback; and instead of weeping
+she fell to laughing almost hysterically.
+
+She munched the corn bread--the bacon she could not eat--and wondered if
+the woman at the stopping-place had realized what an impossible lunch
+she had provided for her guest. However, here was one of the tests. She
+was not worth much if a little thing like coarse food annoyed her so
+much. She drank some of the bitter water, and bravely ate a second piece
+of corn bread and tried to hope her pony would be all right after his
+rest. But it was evident after they had gone a mile or two further that
+the pony was growing worse. He lagged, and limped, and stopped, and it
+seemed almost cruel to urge him further, yet what could be done? The
+Indian rode behind now, watching him and speaking in low grunts to him
+occasionally, and finally they came in sight of a speck of a building in
+the distance. Then the Indian spoke. Pointing towards the distant
+building, which seemed too tiny for human habitation, he said: "Aneshodi
+hogan. Him friend me. Lady stay. Me come back good horse. Pony no go
+more. He bad!"
+
+Dismay filled the heart of the lady. She gathered that her guide wished
+to leave her by the way while he went on for another horse, and maybe
+he would return and maybe not. Meantime, what kind of a place was he
+leaving her in? Would there be a woman there? Even if she were an Indian
+woman that would not be so bad. "Aneshodi" sounded as if it might be a
+woman's name.
+
+"Is this Aneshodi a woman?" she questioned.
+
+The Indian shook his head and grunted. "Na, na. Aneshodi, Aneshodi. Him
+friend me. Him good friend. No woman!" (In scorn.)
+
+"Is there no woman in the house?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Na! Him heap good man. Good hogan. Lady stay. Rest."
+
+Suddenly her pony stumbled and nearly fell. She saw that she could not
+depend on him for long now.
+
+"Couldn't I walk with you?" she asked, her eyes pleading. "I would
+rather walk than stay. Is it far?"
+
+The Indian shook his head vigorously.
+
+"Lady no walk. Many suns lady walk. Great mile. Lady stay. Me ride fast.
+Back sundown," and he pointed to the sun which was even now beginning
+its downward course.
+
+Hazel saw there was nothing for it but to do as the Indian said, and
+indeed his words seemed reasonable, but she was very much frightened.
+What kind of a place was this in which she was to stay? As they neared
+it there appeared to be nothing but a little weather-beaten shanty, with
+a curiously familiar look, as if she had passed that way before. A few
+chickens were picking about the yard, and a vine grew over the door, but
+there was no sign of human being about and the desert stretched wide and
+barren on every side. Her old fear of its vastness returned, and she
+began to have a fellow feeling with Amelia Ellen. She saw now that she
+ought to have gone with Amelia Ellen back to civilization and found
+somebody who would have come with her on her errand. But then the letter
+would have been longer delayed!
+
+The thought of the letter kept up her courage, and she descended
+dubiously from her pony's back, and followed the Indian to the door of
+the shanty. The vine growing luxuriantly over window and casement and
+door frame reassured her somewhat, she could not tell just why. Perhaps
+somebody with a sense of beauty lived in the ugly little building, and a
+man with a sense of beauty could not be wholly bad. But how was she to
+stay alone in a man's house where no woman lived? Perhaps the man would
+have a horse to lend or sell them. She would offer any sum he wanted if
+she only could get to a safe place.
+
+But the Indian did not knock at the door as she had expected he would
+do. Instead he stooped to the lower step, and putting his hand into a
+small opening in the woodwork of the step, fumbled there a minute and
+presently brought out a key which he fitted into the lock and threw the
+door wide open to her astonished gaze.
+
+"Him friend me!" explained the Indian again.
+
+He walked into the room with the manner of a partial proprietor of the
+place, looked about, stooped down to the fireplace where a fire was
+neatly laid, and set it blazing up cheerfully; took the water bucket and
+filled it, and putting some water into the kettle swung it over the
+blaze to heat, then turning, he spoke again:
+
+"Lady stay. Me come back--soon. Sun no go down. Me come back; good horse
+get lady."
+
+"But where is the owner of this house? What will he think of my being
+here when he comes back?" said Hazel, more frightened than ever at the
+prospect of being left. She had not expected to stay entirely alone. She
+had counted on finding some one in the house.
+
+"Aneshodi way off. Not come back one--two--day mebbe! He know me. He me
+friend. Lady stay! All right!"
+
+Hazel, her eyes large with fear, watched her protector mount and ride
+away. Almost she called after him that he must not leave her; then she
+remembered that this was a part of a woman's life in Arizona, and she
+was being tried. It was just such things as this the missionary had
+meant when he said she was unfit for life out here. She would stay and
+bear the loneliness and fright. She would prove, at least to herself,
+that she had the courage of any missionary. She would not bear the
+ignominy of weakness and failure. It would be a shame to her all her
+life to know she had failed in this trying time.
+
+She watched the Indian riding rapidly away as if he were in hot haste.
+Once the suspicion crossed her mind that perhaps he had lamed her horse
+on purpose, and left her here just to get rid of her. Perhaps this was
+the home of some dreadful person who would return soon and do her harm.
+
+She turned quickly, with alarm in her heart, to see what manner of place
+she was in, for she had been too excited at first over the prospect of
+being left to notice it much, save to be surprised that there were
+chairs, a fireplace, and a look of comparative comfort. Now she looked
+about to find out if possible just what sort of a person the owner might
+be, and glancing at the table near the fireplace the first object her
+eye fell upon was an open book, and the words that caught her vision
+were: "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
+under the shadow of the Almighty!"
+
+With a start she turned the book over and found it was a Bible, bound in
+plain, strong covers, with large, clear print, and it lay open as if the
+owner had been reading it but a short time before and had been called
+suddenly away.
+
+With a sigh of relief she sank down in the big chair by the fire and let
+the excited tears have their way. Somehow her fear all vanished with
+that sentence. The owner of the house could not be very bad when he kept
+his Bible about and open to that psalm, her psalm, her missionary's
+psalm! And there was assurance in the very words themselves, as if they
+had been sent to remind her of her new trust in an Unseen Power. If she
+was making the Most High her dwelling place continually, surely she was
+under His protection continually, and had no need to be afraid anywhere,
+for she was abiding in Him. The thought gave her a strange new sense of
+sweetness and safety.
+
+After a moment she sat up wiping away the tears and began to look
+around. Perhaps this was the home of some friend of her missionary. She
+felt comforted about staying here now. She lifted her eyes to the wall
+above the mantel and lo, there smiled the face of her dear friend, the
+mother, who had just gone home to heaven, and beneath it--as if that
+were not enough to bring a throb of understanding and joy to her
+heart--beneath it hung her own little jewelled riding whip which she had
+left on the desert a year ago and forgotten.
+
+Suddenly, with a cry of joy, she rose and clasped her hands over her
+heart, relief and happiness in every line of her face.
+
+"It is his home! I have come to his own house!" she cried and looked
+about her with the joy of discovery. This then was where he lived--there
+were his books, here his chair where he sat and rested or studied--his
+hands had left the Bible open at her psalm, his psalm--_their_ psalm!
+There was his couch over behind the screen, and at the other end the
+tiny table and the dishes in the closet! Everything was in place, and
+careful neatness reigned, albeit an air of manlike uncertainty about
+some things.
+
+She went from one end to the other of the big room and back again,
+studying every detail, revelling in the thought that now, whatever came
+to her, she might take back with her a picture of himself in his own
+quiet room when his work was laid aside for a little, and when, if ever
+he had time and allowed himself, he perhaps thought of her.
+
+Time flew on winged feet. With the dear face of her old friend smiling
+down upon her and that psalm open beside her on the table, she never
+thought of fear. And presently she remembered she was hungry, and went
+foraging in the cupboard for something to eat. She found plenty of
+supplies, and after she had satisfied her hunger sat down in the great
+chair by the fire and looked about her in contentment. With the peace of
+the room, his room, upon her, and the sweet old face from the picture
+looking down in benediction as if in welcome, she felt happier than
+since her father had died.
+
+The quiet of the desert afternoon brooded outside, the fire burned
+softly lower and lower at her side, the sun bent down to the west, and
+long rays stole through the window and across at her feet, but the
+golden head was drooping and the long-lashed eyes were closed. She was
+asleep in his chair, and the dying firelight played over her face.
+
+Then, quietly, without any warning, the door opened and a man walked
+into the room!
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE WAY OF THE CROSS
+
+
+The missionary had been a far journey to an isolated tribe of Indians
+outside his own reservation. It was his first visit to them since the
+journey he had taken with his colleague, and of which he had told Hazel
+during their companionship in the desert. He had thought to go sooner,
+but matters in his own extended parish, and his trip East, had united to
+prevent him.
+
+They had lain upon his heart, these lonely, isolated people of another
+age, living amid the past in their ancient houses high up on the cliffs;
+a little handful of lonely, primitive children, existing afar; knowing
+nothing of God and little of man; with their strange, simple ways, and
+their weird appearance. They had come to him in visions as he prayed,
+and always with a weight upon his soul as of a message undelivered.
+
+He had taken his first opportunity after his return from the East to go
+to them; but it had not been as soon as he had hoped. Matters in
+connection with the new church had demanded his attention, and then when
+they were arranged satisfactorily one of his flock was smitten with a
+lingering illness, and so hung upon his friendship and companionship
+that he could not with a clear conscience go far away. But at last all
+hindrances subsided and he went forth on his mission.
+
+The Indians had received him gladly, noting his approach from afar and
+coming down the steep way to meet him, putting their rude best at his
+disposal, and opening their hearts to him. No white man had visited them
+since his last coming with his friend, save a trader who had lost his
+way, and who knew little about the God of whom the missionary had
+spoken, or the Book of Heaven; at least he had not seemed to understand.
+Of these things he was as ignorant, perhaps, as they.
+
+The missionary entered into the strange family life of the tribe who
+inhabited the vast, many-roomed palace of rock carved high at the top of
+the cliff. He laughed with them, ate with them, slept with them, and in
+every way gained their full confidence. He played with their little
+children, teaching them many new games and amusing tricks, and praising
+the quick wits of the little ones; while their elders stood about, the
+stolid look of their dusky faces relaxed into smiles of deep interest
+and admiration.
+
+And then at night he told them of the God who set the stars above them;
+who made the earth and them, and loved them; and of Jesus, His only Son,
+who came to die for them and who would not only be their Saviour, but
+their loving companion by day and by night; unseen, but always at hand,
+caring for each one of His children individually, knowing their joys and
+their sorrows. Gradually he made them understand that he was the
+servant--the messenger--of this Christ, and had come there for the
+express purpose of helping them to know their unseen Friend. Around the
+camp-fire, under the starry dome, or on the sunny plain, whenever he
+taught them they listened, their faces losing the wild, half-animal look
+of the uncivilized, and taking on the hidden longing that all mortals
+have in common. He saw the humanity in them looking wistfully through
+their great eyes, and gave himself to teach them.
+
+Sometimes as he talked he would lift his face to the sky, and close his
+eyes; and they would listen with awe as he spoke to his Father in
+heaven. They watched him at first and looked up as if they half
+expected to see the Unseen World open before their wondering gaze; but
+gradually the spirit of devotion claimed them, and they closed their
+eyes with him, and who shall say if the savage prayers within their
+breasts were not more acceptable to the Father than many a wordy
+petition put up in the temples of civilization?
+
+Seven days and nights he abode with them, and they fain would have
+claimed him for their own, and begged him to give up all other places
+and live there always. They would give him of their best. He would not
+need to work, for they would give him his portion, and make him a home
+as he should direct them. In short, they would enshrine him in their
+hearts as a kind of under-god, representing to their childish minds the
+true and Only One, the knowledge of whom he had brought to them.
+
+But he told them of his work, of why he must go back to it, and sadly
+they prepared to bid him good-bye with many an invitation for return. In
+going down the cliff, where he had gone with them many a time before, he
+turned to wave another farewell to a little child who had been his
+special pet, and turning, slipped, and wrenched his ankle so badly that
+he could not move on.
+
+They carried him up to their home again, half sorrowful, but wholly
+triumphant. He was theirs for a little longer; and there were more
+stories he could tell. The Book of Heaven was a large one, and they
+wanted to hear it all. They spread his couch of their best, and wearied
+themselves to supply his necessity with all that their ignorance
+imagined he needed, and then they sat at his feet and listened. The
+sprain was a troublesome one and painful, and it yielded to treatment
+but slowly; meanwhile the messenger arrived with the telegram from the
+East.
+
+They gathered about it, that sheet of yellow paper with its mysterious
+scratches upon it, which told such volumes to their friend, but gave no
+semblance to sign language of anything in heaven above or earth beneath.
+They looked with awe upon their friend as they saw the anguish in his
+countenance. His mother was dead! This man who had loved her, and had
+left her to bring them news of salvation, was suffering. It was one more
+bond between them, one more tie of common humanity. And yet he could
+look up and smile, and still speak to the invisible Father! They saw his
+face as it were the face of an angel with the light of the comfort of
+Christ upon it; and when he read to them and tried to make them
+understand the majestic words: "O death, where is thy sting? O grave,
+where is thy victory?" they sat and looked afar off, and thought of the
+ones that they had lost. This man said they would all live again. His
+mother would live; the chief they had lost last year, the bravest and
+youngest chief of all their tribe, he would live too; their little
+children would live; all they had lost would live again.
+
+So, when he would most have wished to be alone with his God and his
+sorrow, he must needs lay aside his own bitter grief, and bring these
+childish people consolation for their griefs, and in doing so the
+comfort came to him also. For somehow, looking into their longing faces,
+and seeing their utter need, and how eagerly they hung upon his words,
+he came to feel the presence of the Comforter standing by his side in
+the dark cave shadows, whispering to his heart sweet words that he long
+had known but had not fully comprehended because his need for them had
+never come before. Somehow time and things of earth receded, and only
+heaven and immortal souls mattered. He was lifted above his own loss and
+into the joy of the inheritance of the servant of the Lord.
+
+But the time had come, all too soon for his hosts, when he was able to
+go on his way; and most anxious he was to be started, longing for
+further news of the dear one who was gone from him. They followed him in
+sorrowful procession far into the plain to see him on his way, and then
+returned to their mesa and their cliff home to talk of it all and
+wonder.
+
+Alone upon the desert at last, the three great mesas like fingers of a
+giant hand stretching cloudily behind him; the purpling mountains in the
+distance; the sunlight shining vividly down over all the bright sands;
+the full sense of his loss came at last upon him, and his spirit was
+bowed with the weight of it. The vision of the Mount was passed, and the
+valley of the shadow of life was upon him. It came to him what it would
+be to have no more of his mother's letters to cheer his loneliness; no
+thought of her at home thinking of him; no looking forward to another
+home-coming.
+
+As he rode he saw none of the changing landscape by the way, but only
+the Granville orchard with its showering pink and white, and his mother
+lying happily beside him on the strawberry bank picking the sweet vivid
+berries, and smiling back to him as if she had been a girl. He was glad,
+glad he had that memory of her. And she had seemed so well, so very
+well. He had been thinking that perhaps when there was hope of building
+a little addition to his shack and making a possible place of comfort
+for her, that he might venture to propose that she come out to him and
+stay. It was a wish that had been growing, growing in his lonely heart
+since that visit home when it seemed as if he could not tear himself
+away from her and go back; and yet knew that he could not stay--would
+not want to stay, because of his beloved work. And now it was over
+forever, his dream! She would never come to cheer his home, and he would
+always have to live a lonely life--for he knew in his heart there was
+only one girl in the whole world he would want to ask to come, and her
+he might not, must not ask.
+
+As endless and as desolate as his desert his future lay stretched out
+before his mind. For the time his beloved work and the joy of service
+was sunk out of sight, and he saw only himself, alone, forsaken of all
+love, walking his sorrowful way apart; and there surged over him a great
+and deadly weakness as of a spirit in despair.
+
+In this mind he lay down to rest in the shadow of a great rock about the
+noon hour, too weary in spirit and exhausted in body to go further
+without a sleep. The faithful Billy dozed and munched his portion not
+far away; and high overhead a great eagle soared high and far, adding to
+the wide desolateness of the scene. Here he was alone at last for the
+first time with his grief, and for a while it had its way, and he faced
+it; entering into his Gethsemane with bowed spirit and seeing nothing
+but blackness all about him. It was so, worn with the anguish of his
+spirit, that he fell asleep.
+
+While he slept there came to him peace; a dream of his mother, smiling,
+well, and walking with a light free step as he remembered her when he
+was a little boy; and by her side the girl he loved. How strange, and
+wonderful, that these two should come to him and bring him rest! And
+then, as he lay still dreaming, they smiled at him and passed on, hand
+in hand, the girl turning and waving her hand as if she meant to return;
+and presently they passed beyond his sight. Then One stood by him,
+somewhere within the shelter of the rock under which he lay, and spoke;
+and the Voice thrilled his soul as it had never been thrilled in life
+before:
+
+          "Lo, _I_ am with you _alway_, even unto the end of
+          the world."
+
+The Peace of that Invisible Presence descended upon him in full measure,
+and when he awoke he found himself repeating: "The peace which passeth
+understanding!" and realizing that for the first time he knew what the
+words meant.
+
+Some time he lay quietly like a child who had been comforted and cared
+for, wondering at the burden which had been lifted, glorying in the
+peace that had come in its place; rejoicing in the Presence that he felt
+would be with him always, and make it possible for him to bear the
+loneliness.
+
+At last he turned his head to see if Billy were far away, and was
+startled to see the shadow of the rock, under which he lay, spread out
+upon the sand before him, the semblance of a perfect mighty cross. For
+so the jutting uneven arms of the rock and the position of the sun
+arranged the shadows before him. "The shadow of a great rock in a weary
+land." The words came to his memory, and it seemed to be his mother's
+voice repeating them as she used to do on Sabbath evenings when they sat
+together in the twilight before his bedtime. A weary land! It _was_ a
+weary land now, and his soul had been parched with the heat and
+loneliness. He had needed the rock as he had never needed it before, and
+the Rock, Christ Jesus, had become a rest and a peace to his soul. But
+there it lay spread out upon the sand beside him, and it was the way of
+the cross; the Christ way was always the way of the cross. But what was
+the song they sang at that great meeting he attended in New York? "The
+way of the cross leads home." Ah, that was it. Some day it would lead
+him home, but now it was the way of the cross and he must take it with
+courage, and always with that unseen but close Companion who had
+promised to be with him even to the end of the world.
+
+Well, he would rise up at once, strong in that blessed companionship.
+Cheerfully he made his preparations for starting, and now he turned
+Billy's head a trifle to the south, for he decided to stop over night
+with his colleague.
+
+When his grief and loneliness were fresh upon him it had seemed that he
+could not bear this visit. But since peace had come to his soul he
+changed his course to take in the other mission, which was really on his
+way, only that he had purposely avoided it.
+
+They made him welcome, those two who had made a little bit of earthly
+paradise out of their desert shack; and they compelled him to stay with
+them and rest three days, for he was more worn with the journey and his
+recent pain and sorrow than he realized. They comforted him with their
+loving sympathy and gladdened his soul with the sight of their own joy,
+albeit it gave him a feeling of being set apart from them. He started in
+the early dawn of the day when the morning star was yet visible, and as
+he rode through the beryl air of the dawning hour he was uplifted from
+his sadness by a sense of the near presence of Christ.
+
+He took his way slowly, purposely turning aside three times from the
+trail to call at the hogans of some of his parishioners; for he dreaded
+the home-coming as one dreads a blow that is inevitable. His mother's
+picture awaited him in his own room, smiling down upon his possessions
+with that dear look upon her face, and to look at it for the first time
+knowing that she was gone from earth forever was an experience from
+which he shrank inexpressibly. Thus he gave himself more time, knowing
+that it was better to go calmly, turning his mind back to his work, and
+doing what she would have liked him to do.
+
+He camped that night under the sheltered ledge where he and Hazel had
+been, and as he lay down to sleep he repeated the psalm they had read
+together that night, and felt a sense of the comfort of abiding under
+the shadow of the Almighty.
+
+In visions of the night he saw the girl's face once more, and she smiled
+upon him with that glad welcoming look, as though she had come to be
+with him always. She did not say anything in the dream, but just put out
+her hands to him with a motion of surrender.
+
+The vision faded as he opened his eyes, yet so real had it been that it
+remained with him and thrilled him with the wonder of her look all day.
+He began to ponder whether he had been right in persistently putting her
+out of his life as he had done. Bits of her own sentences came to him
+with new meaning and he wondered after all if he had not been a fool.
+Perhaps he might have won her. Perhaps God had really sent her to him to
+be his life companion, and he had been too blind to understand.
+
+He put the idea from him many times with a sigh as he mended the fire
+and prepared his simple meal, yet always her face lingered sweetly in
+his thoughts, like balm upon his saddened spirit.
+
+Billy was headed towards home that morning, and seemed eager to get on.
+He had not understood his master these sad days. Something had come over
+his spirits. The little horse neighed cheerfully and started on his way
+with willing gait. However lonely the master might be, home was good,
+with one's own stall and manger; and who might tell but some
+presentiment told Billy that the princess was awaiting them?
+
+The missionary endeavoured to keep his thoughts upon his work and plans
+for the immediate future, but try as he would the face of the girl kept
+smiling in between; and all the beauties of the way combined to bring
+back the ride he had taken with her; until finally he let his fancy
+dwell upon her with pleasant thoughts of how it would be if she were
+his, and waiting for him at the end of his journey; or better still,
+riding beside him at this moment, bearing him sweet converse on the way.
+
+The little shack stood silent, familiar, in the setting sunlight, as he
+rode up to the door, and gravely arranged for Billy's comfort, then with
+his upward look for comfort he went towards his lonely home and opening
+the door stood wondering upon the threshold!
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE LETTER
+
+
+It was only an instant before she opened her eyes, for that subconscious
+state, that warns even in sleep of things that are going on outside the
+world of slumber, told her there was another soul present.
+
+She awakened suddenly and looked up at him, the rosiness of sleep upon
+her cheeks and the dewiness of it upon her eyelids. She looked most
+adorable with the long red slant of sunset from the open door at her
+feet and the wonder of his coming in her face. Their eyes met, and told
+the story, before brain had time to give warning of danger and need of
+self-control.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" the man said and took a step towards her, his arms
+outstretched as if he would clasp her, yet daring hardly to believe that
+it was really herself in the flesh.
+
+"My darling! Have you really come to me?" He breathed the question as
+though its answer meant life or death to him.
+
+She arose and stood before him, trembling with joy, abashed now that
+she was in his presence, in his home, unbidden. Her tongue seemed tied.
+She had no word with which to explain. But because he saw the love in
+her eyes and because his own need of her was great, he became bolder,
+and coming closer he began to tell her earnestly how he had longed and
+prayed that God would make a way for him to find her again; how he had
+fancied her here in this room, his own dear companion--his wife!
+
+He breathed the word tenderly, reverently and she felt the blessing and
+the wonder of the love of this great simple-hearted man.
+
+Then because he saw his answer in her eyes, he came near and took her
+reverently in his arms, laid his lips upon hers, and thus they stood for
+a moment together, knowing that after all the sorrow, the longing, the
+separation, each had come into his own.
+
+It was some time before Hazel could get opportunity to explain how she
+came all unknowingly to be in his house, and even then he could not
+understand what joyful circumstance had set her face fortward and
+dropped her at his door. So she had to go back to the letter, the letter
+which was the cause of it all, and yet for the moment had been
+forgotten. She brought it forth now, and his face, all tender with the
+joy of her presence, grew almost glorified when he knew that it was she
+who had been his mother's tender nurse and beloved friend through the
+last days of her life.
+
+With clasped hands they talked together of his mother. Hazel told him
+all: how she had come upon her that summer's day, and her heart had
+yearned to know her for his sake; and how she had gone back again, and
+yet again; all the story of her own struggles for a better life. When
+she told of her cooking lessons he kissed the little white hands he
+held, and when she spoke of her hospital work he touched his lips to
+eyes and brow in reverent worshipfulness.
+
+"And you did all that because----?" he asked and looked deep into her
+eyes, demanding hungrily his answer.
+
+"Because I wanted to be worthy of your love!" she breathed softly, her
+eyes down-drooped, her face rosy with her confession.
+
+"Oh, my darling!" he said, and clasped her close once more. Almost the
+letter itself was forgotten, until it slipped softly to the floor and
+called attention to itself. There was really after all no need for the
+letter. It had done its intended work without being read. But they read
+it together, his arm about her shoulders, and their heads close, each
+feeling the need of the comforting love of the other because of the
+bereavement each had suffered.
+
+And thus they read:
+
+          "MY DEAR SON:
+
+          "I am writing this letter in what I believe to be
+          the last few days of my life. Long ago I made our
+          dear doctor tell me just what would be the signs
+          that preceded the probable culmination of my
+          disease. He knew I would be happier so, for I had
+          some things I wished to accomplish before I went
+          away. I did not tell you, dear son, because I knew
+          it could but distress you and turn your thoughts
+          away from the work to which you belong. I knew
+          when you came home to me for that dear last visit
+          that I had only a little while longer left here,
+          and I need not tell you what those blessed days of
+          your stay were to me. You know without my telling.
+          You perhaps will blame yourself that you did not
+          see how near the end it was and stay beside me;
+          but John, beloved, I would not have been happy to
+          have had it so. It would have brought before you
+          with intensity the parting side of death, and this
+          I wished to avoid. I want you to think of me as
+          gone to be with Jesus and with your dear father.
+          Besides, I wanted the pleasure of giving you back
+          again to your work before I went away.
+
+          "It was because I knew the end was near that I
+          dared do a lot of things that I would have been
+          careful about otherwise. It was in the strength of
+          the happiness of your presence that I forced
+          myself to walk again that you might remember your
+          mother once more on her feet. Remember now when
+          you are reading this I shall be walking the golden
+          streets with as strong and free a gait as you walk
+          your desert, dear. So don't regret anything of the
+          good time we had, nor wish you had stayed longer.
+          It was perfect, and the good times are not over
+          for us. We shall have them again on the other side
+          some day when there are no more partings forever.
+
+          "But there is just one thing that has troubled me
+          ever since you first went away, and that is that
+          you are alone. God knew it was not good for man to
+          be alone, and He has a helpmeet for my boy
+          somewhere in the world, I am sure. I would be glad
+          if I might go knowing that you had found her and
+          that she loved you as I loved your father when I
+          married him. I have never talked much about these
+          things to you because I do not think mothers
+          should try to influence their children to marry
+          until God sends the right one, and then it is not
+          the mother who should be the judge, of course. But
+          once I spoke to you in a letter. You remember? It
+          was after I had met a sweet girl whose life seemed
+          so fitted to belong to yours. You opened your
+          heart to me then and told me you had found the one
+          you loved and would never love another--but she
+          was not for you. My heart ached for you, laddie,
+          and I prayed much for you then, for it was a sore
+          trial to come to my boy away out there alone with
+          his trouble. I had much ado not to hate that girl
+          to whom you had given your love, and not to fancy
+          her a most disagreeable creature with airs, and no
+          sense, not to recognize the man in my son, and not
+          to know his beautiful soul and the worth of his
+          love. But then I thought perhaps she couldn't help
+          it, poor child, that she didn't know enough to
+          appreciate you; and likely it was God's good
+          leading that kept you from her. But I have kept
+          hoping that some time He would bring you to love
+          another who was more worthy than she could have
+          been.
+
+          "Dear, you have never said anything more about
+          that girl, and I hope you have forgotten her,
+          though sometimes when you were at home I noticed
+          that deep, far-away look in your eyes, and a
+          sadness about your lips that made me tremble lest
+          her memory was just as bright as ever. I have
+          wanted you to know the sweet girl Hazel Radcliffe
+          who has been my dear friend and almost
+          daughter--for no daughter could have been dearer
+          than she has been to me, and I believe she loves
+          me too as I love her. If you had been nearer I
+          would have tried to bring you two together, at
+          least for once, that you might judge for
+          yourselves; but I found out that she was shy as a
+          bird about meeting any one--though she has hosts
+          of young men friends in her New York home--and
+          that she would have run away if you had come.
+          Besides, I could not have given you any reason but
+          the truth for sending for you, and I knew God
+          would bring you two together if it was His will.
+          But I could not go happy from this earth without
+          doing something towards helping you just to see
+          her once, and so I have asked her to give you this
+          letter with her own hand, if possible, and she has
+          promised to do so. You will come home when I am
+          gone and she will have to see you, and when you
+          look on her sweet face if you do not feel as your
+          mother does about her, it is all right, dear son;
+          only I wanted you just to see her once because I
+          love her so much, and because I love you. If you
+          could forget the other and love this one it seems
+          as though I should be glad even in heaven, but if
+          you do not feel that way when you see her, John,
+          don't mind my writing this letter, for it pleased
+          me much to play this little trick upon you before
+          I left; and the dear girl must never know--unless
+          indeed you love her--and then I do not care--for I
+          know she will forgive me for writing this silly
+          letter, and love me just the same.
+
+          "Dear boy, just as we never liked to say good-bye
+          when you went away to college, but only 'Au
+          revoir,' so there won't be any good-bye now, only
+          I love you.
+
+                                              "YOUR MOTHER."
+
+Hazel was weeping softly when they finished the letter, and there were
+tears in the eyes of the son, though they were glorified by the smile
+that shone upon the girl as he folded the letter and said:
+
+"Wasn't that a mother for a fellow to have? And could I do anything else
+than give myself when she gave all she had? And to think she picked out
+the very one for me that I loved of all the world, and sent her out to
+me because I was too set in my way to come back after her. It is just as
+if my mother sent you down as a gift from heaven to me, dear!" and
+their lips met once more in deep love and understanding.
+
+The sun was almost setting now, and suddenly the two became aware that
+night was coming on. The Indian would be returning and they must plan
+what to do.
+
+Brownleigh rose and went to the door to see if the Indian were in sight.
+He was thinking hard and fast. Then he came back and stood before the
+girl.
+
+"Dear!" he said, and the tone of his voice brought the quick colour to
+her cheeks; it was so wonderful, so disconcerting to be looked at and
+spoken to in that way. She caught her breath and wondered if it were not
+a dream after all. "Dear," another of those deep, searching looks, "this
+is a big, primitive country and we do things in a most summary way out
+here sometimes. You must tell me if I go too fast; but could--_would_
+you--do you think you love me enough to marry me at once--to-night?"
+
+"Oh!" she breathed, lifting her happy eyes. "It would be beautiful to
+never have to leave you again--but--you hardly know me. I am not fitted,
+you know. You are a great, wonderful missionary, and I--I am only a
+foolish girl who has fallen in love with you and can't ever be happy
+again without you."
+
+She buried her face in the arm of the chair and cried happy, shamed
+tears, and he gathered her up in his arms and comforted her, his face
+shining with a glorified expression.
+
+"Dear," he said when he could speak again, "dear, don't you know that is
+all I want? And don't ever talk that way again about me. I am no saint,
+as you'll very well find out, but I'll promise to love and cherish you
+as long as we both shall live. Will you marry me to-night?"
+
+There was a silence in the little room broken only by the low crackling
+of the dying fire.
+
+She lifted shy glad eyes to his, and then came and laid her two hands in
+his.
+
+"If you are quite sure you want me," she breathed softly.
+
+The rapture of his face and the tenderness of his arms assured her on
+that point.
+
+"There is just one great regret I have," said the young man, lifting his
+eyes towards his mother's picture. "If she only could have known it was
+you that I loved. Why didn't I tell her your name? But then---- Why, my
+dear, I didn't know your name. Do you realize that? I haven't known your
+name until now."
+
+"I certainly did realize it," said Hazel with rosy cheeks. "It used to
+hurt dreadfully sometimes to think that even if you wanted to find me
+you wouldn't know how to go about it."
+
+"You dear! Did you care so much?" His voice was deep and tender and his
+eyes were upon her.
+
+"So much!" she breathed softly.
+
+But the splash of red light on the floor at their feet warned them of
+the lateness of the hour and they turned to the immediate business of
+the moment.
+
+"It is wonderful that things are just as they are to-night," said
+Brownleigh in his full, joyous tones. "It certainly seems providential.
+Bishop Vail, my father's old college chum, has been travelling through
+the West on missionary work for his church, and he is now at the
+stopping place where you spent last night. He leaves on the midnight
+train to-night, but we can get there long before that time, and he will
+marry us. There is no one I would rather have had, though the choice
+should have been yours. Are you going to mind very much being married in
+this brief and primitive manner?"
+
+"If I minded those things I should not be worthy of your love," said
+Hazel softly. "No, I don't mind in the least. Only I've really nothing
+along to get married in--nothing suitable for a wedding gown. You won't
+be able to remember me in bridal attire--and there won't be even Amelia
+Ellen for bridesmaid." She smiled at him mischievously.
+
+"You darling!" he said laying his lips upon hers again. "You need no
+bridal attire to make you the sweetest bride that ever came to Arizona,
+and I shall always remember you as you are now, as the most beautiful
+sight my eyes ever saw. If there was time to get word to some of my
+colleagues off at their stations we should have a wedding reception that
+would outrival your New York affairs so far as enthusiasm and genuine
+hearty good will is concerned, but they are all from forty to a hundred
+miles away from here and it will be impossible. Are you sure you are not
+too tired to ride back to the stopping place to-night?" He looked at her
+anxiously. "We will hitch Billy to the wagon, and the seat has good
+springs. I will put in plenty of cushions and you can rest on the way,
+and we will not attempt to come back to-night. It would be too much for
+you."
+
+She began to protest but he went on:
+
+"No, dear, I don't mean we'll stay in that little hole where you spent
+last night. That would be awful! But what would you say to camping in
+the same spot where we had our last talk? I have been there many times
+since and often spend the night there because of its sweet association
+with you. It is not far, you know, from the railroad--a matter of a few
+minutes' ride--and there is good water. We can carry my little tent and
+trappings, and then take as much of a wedding trip afterwards as you
+feel you have strength for before we return, though we shall have the
+rest of our lives to make one dear long wedding trip of, I hope. Will
+that plan suit you?"
+
+"Oh, it will be beautiful," said Hazel with shining eyes.
+
+"Very well, then. I will get everything ready for our start and you must
+rest until I call you." With that he stooped and before she realized
+what he was doing gently lifted her from her feet and laid her down upon
+his couch over in the corner, spreading a many-coloured Indian blanket
+over her. Then he deftly stirred up the fire, filled up the kettle,
+swung it back over the blaze, and with a smile went out to prepare Billy
+and the wagon.
+
+Hazel lay there looking about her new home with happy eyes, noting each
+little touch of refinement and beauty that showed the character of the
+man who had lived his life alone there for three long years, and
+wondering if it were really herself, the lonely little struggling nurse
+with the bitter ache in her heart, who was feeling so happy here
+to-day--Hazel Radcliffe, the former New York society girl, rejoicing
+ecstatically because she was going to marry a poor home missionary and
+live in a shanty! How her friends would laugh and sneer, and how Aunt
+Maria would lift her hands in horror and say the family was disgraced!
+But it did not matter about Aunt Maria. Poor Aunt Maria! She had never
+approved of anything that Hazel wanted to do all her life. As for her
+brother--and here her face took on a shade of sadness--her brother was
+of another world than hers and always had been. People said he was like
+his dead mother. Perhaps the grand man of the desert could help her
+brother to better things. Perhaps he would come out here to visit them
+and catch a vision of another kind of life and take a longing for it as
+she had done. He could not fail at least to see the greatness of the man
+she had chosen.
+
+There was great comfort to her in this hour to remember that her father
+had been interested in her missionary, and had expressed a hope that
+she might meet him again some day. She thought her father would have
+been pleased at the choice she had made, for he had surely seen the
+vision of what was really worth while in life before he died.
+
+Suddenly her eyes turned to the little square table over by the
+cupboard. What if she should set it?
+
+She sprang up and suited the action to the thought.
+
+Almost as a child might handle her first pewter set Hazel took the
+dishes from the shelves and arranged them on the table. They were pretty
+china dishes, with a fine old sprigged pattern of delicate flowers. She
+recognized them as belonging to his mother's set, and handled them
+reverently. It almost seemed as if that mother's presence was with her
+in the room as she prepared the table for her first meal with the
+beloved son.
+
+She found a large white towel in the cupboard drawer that she spread on
+the rough little table, and set the delicate dishes upon it: two plates,
+two cups and saucers, knives and forks--two of everything! How it
+thrilled her to think that in a little while she would belong here in
+this dear house, a part of it, and that they two would have a right to
+sit together at this table through the years. There might come hardships
+and disappointments--of course there would. She was no fool! Life was
+full of disappointments for everybody, as well as of beautiful
+surprises! But come what would she knew by the thrill in her heart that
+she would never be sorry for this day in which she had promised to
+become the wife of the man of the desert, and she would always cherish
+the memory of this her first setting of the little table, and let it
+make all future settings of that table a holy ordinance.
+
+She found a can of soup in the cupboard, and made it hot in a small
+saucepan on the fire, and set forth on the table crackers and cheese, a
+glass of jelly, a small bottle of stuffed olives and some little cakes
+she had brought with her in her suit-case. She had thought she might
+need something of the sort when she landed in Arizona, for there was no
+telling but she might have to ride across the desert to find her
+missionary; and sure enough that had been the case.
+
+It looked very cozy when Brownleigh came in to say that the wagon was
+ready and he thought he saw the Indian in the dusk coming across the
+plain, but he stopped short without speech, for here before him was the
+picture which his mind and heart had painted for him many a time: this
+girl, the one girl in all the earth for him, kneeling beside his hearth
+and dishing up the steaming soup into the hot dishes, the firelight
+playing on her sweet face and golden hair, and every line and motion of
+her graceful body calling for his adoration! So he stood for one long
+minute and feasted his hungry eyes upon the sight, until she turned and
+saw his heart in his eyes, and her own face grew rosy with the joy and
+the meaning of it all.
+
+And so they sat down to their first meal in the little house together,
+and then having sent the Indian back to the fort with a message, they
+took their way forth in the starlight together to begin their wedding
+journey.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+Billy made good time in spite of the fact that he had been out all day
+on parishional work, but he knew who he was hauling, and seemed to take
+deep satisfaction in having Hazel back again, for now and again he would
+turn back towards the wagon when they stopped for water and whinny
+happily.
+
+They reached the stopping place about nine o'clock, and the news that
+the missionary was going to be married spread like wildfire among the
+men and out to the neighbouring shacks. In no time a small crowd had
+collected about the place, peering out of the starlit darkness.
+
+Hazel retired to the forlorn little chamber where she had spent the
+night before and rummaged in her trunk for bridal apparel. In a few
+minutes she emerged into the long dining-room where the table had been
+hastily cleared and moved aside, and upon which the boarders were now
+seated in long rows, watching the proceedings curiously.
+
+She was dressed in a simple white muslin, touched here and there with
+exquisite hand embroidery and tiny cobwebby edges of real lace. The
+missionary caught his breath as he saw her come out to him, and the
+rough faces of the men softened as they watched her.
+
+The white-haired bishop arose to meet her and welcomed her in a fatherly
+way he had, and the woman who kept the stopping place came following in
+Hazel's wake, hastily wiping her hands on her apron, and casting it
+behind her as she entered. She had been preparing an impromptu supper
+out of any materials that happened to be at hand, but she could not miss
+the ceremony if the coffee did burn. Weddings did not come her way every
+day.
+
+In the doorway, his stolid face shining in the glare of many candles,
+stood the Indian from the fort. He had followed silently behind the
+couple to witness the proceedings, well knowing he would be forgiven by
+his mistress at the fort when he told his news. The missionary was well
+beloved--and the missionary was going to be married!
+
+What would the four hundred of her own select New York circle have said
+could they have seen Hazel Radcliffe standing serene, in her simple
+gown, with her undecked golden hair, in the midst of that motley
+company of men, with only three curious slatternly women in the
+background to keep her company, giving herself away to a man who had
+dedicated his life to work in the desert? But Hazel's happy heart was
+serenely unconscious of the incongruity of her surroundings, and she
+answered with a clear ring to her voice as the bishop asked her the
+questions: "I will." She was coming gladly to her new home.
+
+It was her own ring, the ring she had given him, that John Brownleigh
+put upon her hand in token of his loyalty and love for her, the ring
+that for a whole year had lain next his own heart and comforted its
+loneliness because she had given it, and now he gave it back because she
+had given him herself.
+
+Graciously she placed her small white hand in the rough awkward ones of
+the men who came to offer her congratulations, half stumbling over their
+own feet in their awe and wonder at her beauty. It was to them as if an
+angel from heaven had suddenly dropped down and condescended to walk
+their daily path in sight of them all.
+
+Cheerfully she swallowed the stale cake and muddy coffee that the
+slatternly landlady produced, and afterwards, as she was being helped
+to get back into her riding dress, bestowed upon her a little lilac wool
+frock from her trunk that the woman admired greatly. From that moment
+the landlady of the stopping place was a new creature. Missions and
+missionaries had been nothing to her through the years, but she believed
+in them forever after, and donned her new lilac gown in token of her
+faith in Christianity. Thus Hazel won her first convert, who afterwards
+proved her fidelity in time of great trial, and showed that even a lilac
+gown may be an instrument of good.
+
+Out into the starlight together again they rode, with the blessing of
+the bishop upon them, and the cheers of the men still sounding in their
+ears.
+
+"I wish mother could have known," said the bridegroom as he drew his
+bride close within his arm and looked down upon her nestling by his
+side.
+
+"Oh, I think she does!" said Hazel as she dropped a thankful, weary head
+against his shoulder. Then the missionary stooped and gave his wife a
+long, tender kiss, and raising his head and lifting his eyes to the
+starlit sky he said reverently:
+
+"Oh, my Father, I thank Thee for this wonderful gift. Make me worthy of
+her. Help her never to regret that she has come to me."
+
+Hazel crept her hand into his free one, and laid her lips upon his
+fingers, and prayed all quietly by herself for gladness. So they rode
+out to their camp beneath God's sky.
+
+Three days later an Indian on the way to the fort turned aside with a
+message for Hazel--a telegram. It read:
+
+          "Arrived safe. Married Burley to once so I could
+          see to him. Do come home right away. Burley says
+          come and live with us. Answer right away. I can't
+          enjoy my new home worrying about you.
+
+                                   "Yours respectful,
+                                "AMELIA ELLEN STOUT BURLEY."
+
+With laughter and tears Hazel read the telegram whose price must have
+cost the frugal New England conscience a twinge, and after a moment's
+thought wrote an answer to send back by the messenger.
+
+          "DEAR AMELIA ELLEN: Love and congratulations for
+          you both. I was married to John Brownleigh the
+          night you left. Come out and see us when your
+          husband gets well, and perhaps we'll visit you
+          when we come East. I am very happy.
+
+                              "HAZEL RADCLIFFE BROWNLEIGH."
+
+When good Amelia Ellen read that telegram she wiped her spectacles a
+second time and read it over to see that she had made no mistake, and
+then she set her toil-worn hands upon her hips and surveyed the prone
+but happy Burley in dazed astonishment, ejaculating:
+
+"Fer the land sake! Now did you ever? Fer the land! Was that what she
+was up to all the time? I thought she was wonderful set to go, and
+wonderful set to stay, but I never sensed what was up. Ef I'd 'a'
+knowed, I suppose I'd 'a' stayed another day. Why didn't she tell me, I
+wonder! Well, fer the land sake!"
+
+And Burley murmured contentedly:
+
+"Wal, I'm mighty glad you never knowed, Amelia Ellen!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Novels of Grace Livingston Hill
+
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+Many thousands of readers have found inspiration and happiness in
+reading the novels of Grace Livingston Hill. In her charming romances
+there is a sympathetic buoyant spirit that conquers discouragement,
+which teaches that true love and happiness will come out of the worst
+trial.
+
+          Amorelle
+          The Ransom
+          Patch of Blue
+          Kerry
+          The Chance of a Lifetime
+          Silver Wings
+          Ladybird
+          The White Lady
+          The Gold Shoe
+          Found Treasure
+          Blue Ruin
+          The Prodigal Girl
+          Duskin
+          Crimson Roses
+          Out of the Storm
+          The Honor Girl
+          Job's Niece
+          A New Name
+          Ariel Custer
+          The Best Man
+          Re-Creations
+          The Voice in the Wilderness
+          The Beloved Stranger
+          Happiness Hill
+          The Challengers
+          The City of Fire
+          Cloudy Jewel
+          Dawn of the Morning
+          The Enchanted Barn
+          Exit Betty
+          The Finding of Jasper Holt
+          The Girl from Montana
+          Lo, Michael
+          The Man of the Desert
+          Marcia Schuyler
+          Phoebe Deane
+          The Red Signal
+          Tomorrow About This Time
+          The Tryst
+          The Witness
+          Not Under the Law
+          The White Flower
+
+          GROSSET & DUNLAP    _Publishers_    NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+LIDA LARRIMORE'S
+
+POPULAR NOVELS
+
+About the kind of people all of us like to know
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Each new story by Lida Larrimore proves to be even more popular than the
+last. Her books satisfy that tender mood that wants lightness and youth
+and beauty; that wants to be stirred by the heartaches of love and its
+charm.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          TWO KEYS TO A CABIN
+          NO LOVELIER SPRING
+          TRUE BY THE SUN
+          JONATHAN'S DAUGHTER
+          ROBIN HILL
+          THE SILVER FLUTE
+          MULBERRY SQUARE
+          THE WAGON AND THE STAR
+          TARPAPER PALACE
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+          GROSSET & DUNLAP   _Publishers_   NEW YORK
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Page 34, "These" changed to "There". (There were neighbors)
+
+Page 43, word "It" presumed as ink was unclear. (It seemed to)
+
+Page 45, "nd" changed to "and". (and the pony's)
+
+Page 147, "The" changed to "the". (the agent is)
+
+Page 224, word "to" added to text. (what to do with)
+
+Page 227, "th" changed to "the". (the inn tells)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Man of the Desert, by Grace Livingston Hill
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