A VOICE in the WILDERNESS

A NOVELBYGRACE LIVINGSTON HILL

AUTHOR OFMARCIA SCHUYLER, ETC. 

GROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS--NEW YORK

Published by Arrangement with Harper and Brothers

Made in the United States of America

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A Voice in the Wilderness

Copyright, 1916, by Harper & BrothersPrinted in the United States of AmericaPublished September, 1916

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A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS

CHAPTER I

With a lurch the train came to a dead stop and Margaret Earle, hastilygathering up her belongings, hurried down the aisle and got out into thenight. 

It occurred to her, as she swung her heavy suit-case down the ratherlong step to the ground, and then carefully swung herself after it, thatit was strange that neither conductor, brakeman, nor porter had come tohelp her off the train, when all three had taken the trouble to tell herthat hers was the next station; but she could hear voices up ahead. Perhaps something was the matter with the engine that detained them andthey had forgotten her for the moment. 

The ground was rough where she stood, and there seemed no sign of aplatform. Did they not have platforms in this wild Western land, or wasthe train so long that her car had stopped before reaching it?

She strained her eyes into the darkness, and tried to make out thingsfrom the two or three specks of light that danced about like firefliesin the distance. She could dimly see moving figures away up near theengine, and each one evidently carried a lantern. The train wastremendously long. A sudden feeling of isolation took possession of her. Perhaps she ought not to have got out until some one came to help her. Perhaps the train had not pulled into the station yet and she ought toget back on it and wait. Yet if the train started before she found theconductor she might be carried on somewhere and be justly blame her fora fool. 

There did not seem to be any building on that side of the track. It wasprobably on the other, but she was standing too near the cars to seeover. She tried to move back to look, but the ground sloped and sheslipped and fell in the cinders, bruising her knee and cutting herwrist. 

In sudden panic she arose. She would get back into the train, no matterwhat the consequences. They had no right to put her out here, away offfrom the station, at night, in a strange country. If the train startedbefore she could find the conductor she would tell him that he must backit up again and let her off. He certainly could not expect her to getout like this. 

She lifted the heavy suit-case up the high step that was even fartherfrom the ground than it had been when she came down, because her fallhad loosened some of the earth and caused it to slide away from thetrack. Then, reaching to the rail of the step, she tried to pull herselfup, but as she did so the engine gave a long snort and the whole train, as if it were in league against her, lurched forward crazily, shakingoff her hold. She slipped to her knees again, the suit-case, toppledfrom the lower step, descending upon her, and together they slid androlled down the short bank, while the train, like an irresponsible nursewho had slapped her charge and left it to its fate, ran giddily off intothe night. 

The horror of being deserted helped the girl to rise in spite of bruisesand shock. She lifted imploring hands to the unresponsive cars as theyhurried by her--one, two, three, with bright windows, each showing apassenger, comfortable and safe inside, unconscious of her need. 

A moment of useless screaming, running, trying to attract some one'sattention, a sickening sense of terror and failure, and the last carslatted itself past with a mocking clatter, as if it enjoyed herdiscomfort. 

Margaret stood dazed, reaching out helpless hands, then dropped them ather sides and gazed after the fast-retreating train, the light on itslast car swinging tauntingly, blinking now and then with a leer in itseye, rapidly vanishing from her sight into the depth of the night. 

She gasped and looked about her for the station that but a short momentbefore had been so real to her mind; and, lo! on this side and on thatthere was none!

The night was wide like a great floor shut in by a low, vast dome ofcurving blue set with the largest, most wonderful stars she had everseen. Heavy shadows of purple-green, smoke-like, hovered over earthdarker and more intense than the unfathomable blue of the night sky. Itseemed like the secret nesting-place of mysteries wherein no human footmight dare intrude. It was incredible that such could be but commonsage-brush, sand, and greasewood wrapped about with the beauty of thelonely night. 

No building broke the inky outlines of the plain, nor friendly lightstreamed out to cheer her heart. Not even a tree was in sight, except onthe far horizon, where a heavy line of deeper darkness might mean aforest. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in the blue, deep, starry domeabove and the bluer darkness of the earth below save one sharp shaftahead like a black mast throwing out a dark arm across the track. 

As soon as she sighted it she picked up her baggage and made her painfulway toward it, for her knees and wrist were bruised and her baggage washeavy. 

A soft drip, drip greeted her as she drew nearer; something plashingdown among the cinders by the track. Then she saw the tall column withits arm outstretched, and looming darker among the sage-brush theoutlines of a water-tank. It was so she recognized the engine'sdrinking-tank, and knew that she had mistaken a pause to water theengine for a regular stop at a station. 

Her soul sank within her as she came up to the dripping water and laidher hand upon the dark upright, as if in some way it could help her. Shedropped her baggage and stood, trembling, gazing around upon thebeautiful, lonely scene in horror; and then, like a mirage against thedistance, there melted on her frightened eyes a vision of her fatherand mother sitting around the library lamp at home, as they sat everyevening. They were probably reading and talking at this very minute, andtrying not to miss her on this her first venture away from the home intothe great world to teach. What would they say if they could see theirbeloved daughter, whom they had sheltered all these years and let goforth so reluctantly now, in all her confidence of youth, bound byalmost absurd promises to be careful and not run any risks. 

Yet here she was, standing alone beside a water-tank in the midst of anArizona plain, no knowing how many miles from anywhere, at somewherebetween nine and ten o'clock at night! It seemed incredible that it hadreally happened! Perhaps she was dreaming! A few moments before in thebright car, surrounded by drowsy fellow-travelers, almost at herjourney's end, as she supposed; and now, having merely done as shethought right, she was stranded here!

She rubbed her eyes and looked again up the track, half expecting to seethe train come back for her. Surely, surely the conductor, or the porterwho had been so kind, would discover that she was gone, and do somethingabout it. They couldn't leave her here alone on the prairie! It would betoo dreadful!

That vision of her father and mother off against the purple-greendistance, how it shook her! The lamp looked bright and cheerful, and shecould see her father's head with its heavy white hair. He turned to lookat her mother to tell her of something he read in the paper. They weresitting there, feeling contented and almost happy about her, and she, their little girl--all her dignity as school-teacher dropped from herlike a garment now--she was standing in this empty space alone, withonly an engine's water-tank to keep her from dying, and only the barren, desolate track to connect her with the world of men and women. Shedropped her head upon her breast and the tears came, sobbing, choking, raining down. Then off in the distance she heard a low, rising howl ofsome snarling, angry beast, and she lifted her head and stood intrembling terror, clinging to the tank. 

That sound was coyotes or wolves howling. She had read about them, buthad not expected to experience them in such a situation. How confidentlyhad she accepted the position which offered her the opening she hadsought for the splendid career that she hoped was to follow! Howfearless had she been! Coyotes, nor Indians, nor wild cowboystudents--nothing had daunted her courage. Besides, she told her motherit was very different going to a town from what it would be if she werea missionary going to the wilds. It was an important school she was toteach, where her Latin and German and mathematical achievements had wonher the place above several other applicants, and where her well-knowntact was expected to work wonders. But what were Latin and German andmathematics now? Could they show her how to climb a water-tank? Wouldtact avail with a hungry wolf?

The howl in the distance seemed to come nearer. She cast frightened eyesto the unresponsive water-tank looming high and dark above her. Shemust get up there somehow. It was not safe to stand here a minute. Besides, from that height she might be able to see farther, and perhapsthere would be a light somewhere and she might cry for help. 

Investigation showed a set of rude spikes by which the trainmen werewont to climb up, and Margaret prepared to ascend them. She set hersuit-case dubiously down at the foot. Would it be safe to leave itthere? She had read how coyotes carried off a hatchet from acamping-party, just to get the leather thong which was bound about thehandle. She could not afford to lose her things. Yet how could she climband carry that heavy burden with her? A sudden thought came. 

Her simple traveling-gown was finished with a silken girdle, soft andlong, wound twice about her waist and falling in tasseled ends. Swiftlyshe untied it and knotted one end firmly to the handle of her suit-case, tying the other end securely to her wrist. Then slowly, cautiously, withmany a look upward, she began to climb. 

It seemed miles, though in reality it was but a short distance. Thehowling beasts in the distance sounded nearer now and continually, making her heart beat wildly. She was stiff and bruised from her falls, and weak with fright. The spikes were far apart, and each step ofprogress was painful and difficult. It was good at last to rise highenough to see over the water-tank and feel a certain confidence in herdefense. 

But she had risen already beyond the short length of her silken tether, and the suit-case was dragging painfully on her arm. She was obliged tosteady herself where she stood and pull it up before she could go on. Then she managed to get it swung up to the top of the tank in acomparatively safe place. One more long spike step and she was besideit. 

The tank was partly roofed over, so that she had room enough to sit onthe edge without danger of falling in and drowning. For a few minutesshe could only sit still and be thankful and try to get her breath backagain after the climb; but presently the beauty of the night began tocast its spell over her. That wonderful blue of the sky! It hadn't everbefore impressed her that skies were blue at night. She would have saidthey were black or gray. As a matter of fact, she didn't remember tohave ever seen so much sky at once before, nor to have noticed skies ingeneral until now. 

This sky was so deeply, wonderfully blue, the stars so real, alive andsparkling, that all other stars she had ever seen paled before them intomere imitations. The spot looked like one of Taylor's pictures of theHoly Land. She half expected to see a shepherd with his crook and sheepapproaching her out of the dim shadows, or a turbaned, white-robed Davidwith his lifted hands of prayer standing off among the depths of purpledarkness. It would not have been out of keeping if a walled city withhousetops should be hidden behind the clumps of sage-brush farther on. 'Twas such a night and such a scene as this, perhaps, when the wise menstarted to follow the star!

But one cannot sit on the edge of a water-tank in the desert nightalone and muse long on art and history. It was cold up there, and thehowling seemed nearer than before. There was no sign of a light or ahouse anywhere, and not even a freight-train sent its welcome clatterdown the track. All was still and wide and lonely, save that terrifyingsound of the beasts; such stillness as she had not ever thought couldbe--a fearful silence as a setting for the awful voices of the wilds. 

The bruises and scratches she had acquired set up a fine stinging, andthe cold seemed to sweep down and take possession of her on her high, narrow seat. She was growing stiff and cramped, yet dared not move much. Would there be no train, nor any help? Would she have to sit there allnight? It looked so very near to the ground now. Could wild beastsclimb, she wondered?

Then in the interval of silence that came between the calling of thosewild creatures there stole a sound. She could not tell at first what itwas. A slow, regular, plodding sound, and quite far away. She looked tofind it, and thought she saw a shape move out of the sage-brush on theother side of the track, but she could not be sure. It might be but afigment of her brain, a foolish fancy from looking so long at thehuddled bushes on the dark plain. Yet something prompted her to cry out, and when she heard her own voice she cried again and louder, wonderingwhy she had not cried before. 

"Help! Help!" she called; and again: "Help! Help!"

The dark shape paused and turned toward her. She was sure now. What ifit were a beast instead of a human! Terrible fear took possession ofher; then, to her infinite relief, a nasal voice sounded out:

"Who's thar?"

But when she opened her lips to answer, nothing but a sob would come tothem for a minute, and then she could only cry, pitifully:

"Help! Help!"

"Whar be you?" twanged the voice; and now she could see a horse andrider like a shadow moving toward her down the track. 

CHAPTER II

The horse came to a standstill a little way from the track, and hisrider let forth a stream of strange profanity. The girl shuddered andbegan to think a wild beast might be preferable to some men. However, these remarks seemed to be a mere formality. He paused and addressedher:

"Heow'd yeh git up thar? D'j'yeh drap er climb?"

He was a little, wiry man with a bristly, protruding chin. She could seethat, even in the starlight. There was something about the point of thatstubby chin that she shrank from inexpressibly. He was not a pleasantman to look upon, and even his voice was unprepossessing. She began tothink that even the night with its loneliness and unknown perils waspreferable to this man's company. 

"I got off the train by mistake, thinking it was my station, and beforeI discovered it the train had gone and left me, " Margaret explained, with dignity. 

"Yeh didn't 'xpect it t' sit reound on th' plain while you wasgallivantin' up water-tanks, did yeh?"

Cold horror froze Margaret's veins. She was dumb for a second. "I am onmy way to Ashland station. Can you tell me how far it is from here andhow I can get there?" Her tone was like icicles. 

"It's a little matter o' twenty miles, more 'r less, " said the manprotruding his offensive chin. "The walkin's good. I don't know no otherway from this p'int at this time o' night. Yeh might set still till th'mornin' freight goes by an' drap atop o' one of the kyars. "

"Sir!" said Margaret, remembering her dignity as a teacher. 

The man wheeled his horse clear around and looked up at her impudently. She could smell bad whisky on his breath. 

"Say, you must be some young highbrow, ain't yeh? Is thet all yeh wanto' me? 'Cause ef 'tis I got t' git on t' camp. It's a good five mileyet, an' I 'ain't hed no grub sence noon. "

The tears suddenly rushed to the girl's eyes as the horror of beingalone in the night again took possession of her. This dreadful manfrightened her, but the thought of the loneliness filled her withdismay. 

"Oh!" she cried, forgetting her insulted dignity, "you're not going toleave me up here alone, are you? Isn't there some place near here whereI could stay overnight?"

"Thur ain't no palace hotel round these diggin's, ef that's what youmean, " the man leered at her. "You c'n come along t' camp 'ith me ef youain't too stuck up. "

"To camp!" faltered Margaret in dismay, wondering what her mother wouldsay. "Are there any ladies there?"

A loud guffaw greeted her question. "Wal, my woman's thar, sech es sheis; but she ain't no highflier like you. We mostly don't hev ladies tocamp, But I got t' git on. Ef you want to go too, you better light downpretty speedy, fer I can't wait. "

In fear and trembling Margaret descended her rude ladder step by step, primitive man seated calmly on his horse, making no attempt whatever toassist her. 

"This ain't no baggage-car, " he grumbled, as he saw the suit-case in herhand. "Well, h'ist yerself up thar; I reckon we c'n pull throughsomehow. Gimme the luggage. "

Margaret stood appalled beside the bony horse and his uncouth rider. Didhe actually expect her to ride with him? "Couldn't I walk?" shefaltered, hoping he would offer to do so. 

"'T's up t' you, " the man replied, indifferently. "Try 't an' see!"

He spoke to the horse, and it started forward eagerly, while the girl inhorror struggled on behind. Over rough, uneven ground, betweengreasewood, sage-brush, and cactus, back into the trail. The man, oblivious of her presence, rode contentedly on, a silent shadow on adark horse wending a silent way between the purple-green clumps of othershadows, until, bewildered, the girl almost lost sight of them. Herbreath came short, her ankle turned, and she fell with both hands in astinging bed of cactus. She cried out then and begged him to stop. 

"L'arned yer lesson, hev yeh, sweety?" he jeered at her, foolishly. "Well, get in yer box, then. "

He let her struggle up to a seat behind himself with very littleassistance, but when she was seated and started on her way she began towish she had stayed behind and taken any perils of the way rather thantrust herself in proximity to this creature. 

From time to time he took a bottle from his pocket and swallowed aportion of its contents, becoming fluent in his language as theyproceeded on their way. Margaret remained silent, growing more and morefrightened every time the bottle came out. At last he offered it to her. She declined it with cold politeness, which seemed to irritate thelittle man, for he turned suddenly fierce. 

"Oh, yer too fine to take a drap fer good comp'ny, are yeh? Wal, I'llshow yeh a thing er two, my pretty lady. You'll give me a kiss with yertwo cherry lips before we go another step. D'yeh hear, my sweetie?" Andhe turned with a silly leer to enforce his command; but with a cry ofhorror Margaret slid to the ground and ran back down the trail as hardas she could go, till she stumbled and fell in the shelter of a greatsage-bush, and lay sobbing on the sand. 

The man turned bleared eyes toward her and watched until shedisappeared. Then sticking his chin out wickedly, he slung her suit-caseafter her and called:

"All right, my pretty lady; go yer own gait an' l'arn yer own lesson. "He started on again, singing a drunken song. 

Under the blue, starry dome alone sat Margaret again, this time with nofriendly water-tank for her defense, and took counsel with herself. Thehowling coyotes seemed to be silenced for the time; at least they hadbecome a minor quantity in her equation of troubles. She felt now thatman was her greatest menace, and to get away safely from him back tothat friendly water-tank and the dear old railroad track she would havepledged her next year's salary. She stole softly to the place where shehad heard the suit-case fall, and, picking it up, started on the wearyroad back to the tank. Could she ever find the way? The trail seemed sointangible a thing, her sense of direction so confused. Yet there wasnothing else to do. She shuddered whenever she thought of the man whohad been her companion on horseback. 

When the man reached camp he set his horse loose and stumbled into thedoor of the log bunk-house, calling loudly for something to eat. 

The men were sitting around the room on the rough benches and bunks, smoking their pipes or stolidly staring into the dying fire. Two smokykerosene-lanterns that hung from spikes driven high in the logs cast aweird light over the company, eight men in all, rough and hardened withexposure to stormy life and weather. They were men with unkempt beardsand uncombed hair, their coarse cotton shirts open at the neck, theirbrawny arms bare above the elbow, with crimes and sorrows and hardliving written large across their faces. 

There was one, a boy in looks, with smooth face and white skin healthilyflushed in places like a baby's. His face, too, was hard and set insternness like a mask, as if life had used him badly; but behind it wasa fineness of feature and spirit that could not be utterly hidden. Theycalled him the Kid, and thought it was his youth that made him differentfrom them all, for he was only twenty-four, and not one of the rest wasunder forty. They were doing their best to help him get over that innatefineness that was his natural inheritance, but although he stopped atnothing, and played his part always with the ease of one old in the waysof the world, yet he kept a quiet reserve about him, a kind of charmbeyond which they had not been able to go. 

He was playing cards with three others at the table when the man camein, and did not look up at the entrance. 

The woman, white and hopeless, appeared at the door of the shed-roomwhen the man came, and obediently set about getting his supper; but herlifeless face never changed expression. 

"Brung a gal 'long of me part way, " boasted the man, as he flung himselfinto a seat by the table. "Thought you fellers might like t' see 'er, but she got too high an' mighty fer me, wouldn't take a pull at th'bottle 'ith me, 'n' shrieked like a catamount when I kissed 'er. Found'er hangin' on th' water-tank. Got off 't th' wrong place. One o' yerhighbrows out o' th' parlor car! Good lesson fer 'er!"

The Boy looked up from his cards sternly, his keen eyes boring throughthe man. "Where is she now?" he asked, quietly; and all the men in theroom looked up uneasily. There was that tone and accent again that madethe Boy alien from them. What was it?

The man felt it and snarled his answer angrily. "Dropped 'er on th'trail, an' threw her fine-lady b'longin's after 'er. 'Ain't got no usefer thet kind. Wonder what they was created fer? Ain't no good tonobody, not even 'emselves. " And he laughed a harsh cackle that was notpleasant to hear. 

The Boy threw down his cards and went out, shutting the door. In a fewminutes the men heard two horses pass the end of the bunk-house towardthe trail, but no one looked up nor spoke. You could not have told bythe flicker of an eyelash that they knew where the Boy had gone. 

She was sitting in the deep shadow of a sage-bush that lay on the edgeof the trail like a great blot, her suit-case beside her, her breathcoming short with exertion and excitement, when she heard a cheerywhistle in the distance. Just an old love-song dating back some yearsand discarded now as hackneyed even by the street pianos at home; butoh, how good it sounded!

 From the desert I come to thee!

The ground was cold, and struck a chill through her garments as she satthere alone in the night. On came the clear, musical whistle, and shepeered out of the shadow with eager eyes and frightened heart. Dared sherisk it again? Should she call, or should she hold her breath and keepstill, hoping he would pass her by unnoticed? Before she could decidetwo horses stopped almost in front of her and a rider swung himselfdown. He stood before her as if it were day and he could see her quiteplainly. 

"You needn't be afraid, " he explained, calmly. "I thought I had betterlook you up after the old man got home and gave his report. He waspretty well tanked up and not exactly a fit escort for ladies. What'sthe trouble?"

Like an angel of deliverance he looked to her as he stood in thestarlight, outlined in silhouette against the wide, wonderful sky: broadshoulders, well-set head, close-cropped curls, handsome contour even inthe darkness. There was about him an air of quiet strength which gaveher confidence. 

"Oh, thank you!" she gasped, with a quick little relieved sob in hervoice. "I am so glad you have come. I was--just a little--frightened, Ithink. " She attempted to rise, but her foot caught in her skirt and shesank wearily back to the sand again. 

The Boy stooped over and lifted her to her feet. "You certainly are someplucky girl!" he commented, looking down at her slender height as shestood beside him. "A 'little frightened, ' were you? Well, I should sayyou had a right to be. "

"Well, not exactly frightened, you know, " said Margaret, taking a deepbreath and trying to steady her voice. "I think perhaps I was moremortified than frightened, to think I made such a blunder as to get offthe train before I reached my station. You see, I'd made up my mind notto be frightened, but when I heard that awful howl of some beast--Andthen that terrible man!" She shuddered and put her hands suddenly overher eyes as if to shut out all memory of it. 

"More than one kind of beasts!" commented the Boy, briefly. "Well, youneedn't worry about him; he's having his supper and he'll be soundasleep by the time we get back. "

"Oh, have we got to go where he is?" gasped Margaret. "Isn't there someother place? Is Ashland very far away? That is where I am going. "

"No other place where you could go to-night. Ashland's a goodtwenty-five miles from here. But you'll be all right. Mom Wallis 'lllook out for you. She isn't much of a looker, but she has a kind heart. She pulled me through once when I was just about flickering out. Comeon. You'll be pretty tired. We better be getting back. Mom Wallis 'llmake you comfortable, and then you can get off good and early in themorning. "

Without an apology, and as if it were the common courtesy of the desert, he stooped and lifted her easily to the saddle of the second horse, placed the bridle in her hands, then swung the suit-case up on his ownhorse and sprang into the saddle. 

CHAPTER III

He turned the horses about and took charge of her just as if he wereaccustomed to managing stray ladies in the wilderness every day of hislife and understood the situation perfectly; and Margaret settledwearily into her saddle and looked about her with content. 

Suddenly, again, the wide wonder of the night possessed her. Involuntarily she breathed a soft little exclamation of awe and delight. Her companion turned to her questioningly:

"Does it always seem so big here--so--limitless?" she asked inexplanation. "It is so far to everywhere it takes one's breath away, andyet the stars hang close, like a protection. It gives one the feeling ofbeing alone in the great universe with God. Does it always seem so outhere?"

He looked at her curiously, her pure profile turned up to the wide domeof luminous blue above. His voice was strangely low and wondering as heanswered, after a moment's silence:

"No, it is not always so, " he said. "I have seen it when it was morelike being alone in the great universe with the devil. "

There was a tremendous earnestness in his tone that the girl felt meantmore than was on the surface. She turned to look at the fine young facebeside her. In the starlight she could not make out the bitter hardnessof lines that were beginning to be carved about his sensitive mouth. Butthere was so much sadness in his voice that her heart went out to him inpity. 

"Oh, " she said, gently, "it would be awful that way. Yes, I canunderstand. I felt so, a little, while that terrible man was with me. "And she shuddered again at the remembrance. 

Again he gave her that curious look. "There are worse things than PopWallis out here, " he said, gravely. "But I'll grant you there's someclass to the skies. It's a case of 'Where every prospect pleases andonly man is vile. '" And with the words his tone grew almost flippant. Ithurt her sensitive nature, and without knowing it she half drew away alittle farther from him and murmured, sadly:

"Oh!" as if he had classed himself with the "man" he had beendescribing. Instantly he felt her withdrawal and grew grave again, as ifhe would atone. 

"Wait till you see this sky at the dawn, " he said. "It will burn redfire off there in the east like a hearth in a palace, and all this domewill glow like a great pink jewel set in gold. If you want a classy sky, there you have it! Nothing like it in the East!"

There was a strange mingling of culture and roughness in his speech. Thegirl could not make him out; yet there had been a palpitatingearnestness in his description that showed he had felt the dawn in hisvery soul. 

"You are--a--poet, perhaps?" she asked, half shyly. "Or an artist?" shehazarded. 

He laughed roughly and seemed embarrassed. "No, I'm just a--bum! A sortof roughneck out of a job. "

She was silent, watching him against the starlight, a kind ofembarrassment upon her after his last remark. "You--have been herelong?" she asked, at last. 

"Three years. " He said it almost curtly and turned his head away, as ifthere were something in his face he would hide. 

She knew there was something unhappy in his life. Unconsciously her tonetook on a sympathetic sound. "And do you get homesick and want to goback, ever?" she asked. 

His tone was fairly savage now. "No!"

The silence which followed became almost oppressive before the Boyfinally turned and in his kindly tone began to question her about thehappenings which had stranded her in the desert alone at night. 

So she came to tell him briefly and frankly about herself, as hequestioned--how she came to be in Arizona all alone. 

"My father is a minister in a small town in New York State. When Ifinished college I had to do something, and I had an offer of thisAshland school through a friend of ours who had a brother out here. Father and mother would rather have kept me nearer home, of course, buteverybody says the best opportunities are in the West, and this was agood opening, so they finally consented. They would send post-haste forme to come back if they knew what a mess I have made of things right atthe start--getting out of the train in the desert. "

"But you're not discouraged?" said her companion, half wonderingly. "Some nerve you have with you. I guess you'll manage to hit it off inAshland. It's the limit as far as discipline is concerned, I understand, but I guess you'll put one over on them. I'll bank on you afterto-night, sure thing!"

She turned a laughing face toward him. "Thank you!" she said. "But Idon't see how you know all that. I'm sure I didn't do anythingparticularly nervy. There wasn't anything else to do but what I did, ifI'd tried. "

"Most girls would have fainted and screamed, and fainted again when theywere rescued, " stated the Boy, out of a vast experience. 

"I never fainted in my life, " said Margaret Earle, with disdain. "Idon't think I should care to faint out in the vast universe like this. It would be rather inopportune, I should think. "

Then, because she suddenly realized that she was growing very chummywith this stranger in the dark, she asked the first question that cameinto her head. 

"What was your college?"

That he had not been to college never entered her head. There wassomething in his speech and manner that made it a foregone conclusion. 

It was as if she had struck him forcibly in his face, so sudden andsharp a silence ensued for a second. Then he answered, gruffly, "Yale, "and plunged into an elaborate account of Arizona in its early ages, including a detailed description of the cliff-dwellers and their homes, which were still to be seen high in the rocks of the cañons not manymiles to the west of where they were riding. 

Margaret was keen to hear it all, and asked many questions, declaringher intention of visiting those cliff-caves at her earliest opportunity. It was so wonderful to her to be actually out here where were all sortsof queer things about which she had read and wondered. It did not occurto her, until the next day, to realize that her companion had ofintention led her off the topic of himself and kept her from asking anymore personal questions. 

He told her of the petrified forest just over some low hills off to theleft; acres and acres of agatized chips and trunks of great trees allturned to eternal stone, called by the Indians "Yeitso's bones, " afterthe great giant of that name whom an ancient Indian hero killed. Hedescribed the coloring of the brilliant days in Arizona, where you standon the edge of some flat-topped mesa and look off through the clear airto mountains that seem quite near by, but are in reality more than twohundred miles away. He pictured the strange colors and lights of theplace; ledges of rock, yellow, white and green, drab and maroon, andtumbled piles of red boulders, shadowy buttes in the distance, serratedcliffs against the horizon, not blue, but rosy pink in the heated hazeof the air, and perhaps a great, lonely eagle poised above the silent, brilliant waste. 

He told it not in book language, with turn of phrase and smoothlyflowing sentences, but in simple, frank words, as a boy might describe apicture to one he knew would appreciate it--for her sake, and notbecause he loved to put it into words; but in a new, stumbling wayletting out the beauty that had somehow crept into his heart in spite ofall the rough attempts to keep all gentle things out of his nature. 

The girl, as she listened, marveled more and more what manner of youththis might be who had come to her out of the desert night. 

She forgot her weariness as she listened, in the thrill of wonder overthe new mysterious country to which she had come. She forgot that shewas riding through the great darkness with an utter stranger, to a placeshe knew not, and to experiences most dubious. Her fears had fled andshe was actually enjoying herself, and responding to the wonderful storyof the place with soft-murmured exclamations of delight and wonder. 

From time to time in the distance there sounded forth those awfulblood-curdling howls of wild beasts that she had heard when she satalone by the water-tank, and each time she heard a shudder passedthrough her and instinctively she swerved a trifle toward her companion, then straightened up again and tried to seem not to notice. The Boy sawand watched her brave attempts at self-control with deep appreciation. But suddenly, as they rode and talked, a dark form appeared across theirway a little ahead, lithe and stealthy and furry, and two awful eyeslike green lamps glared for an instant, then disappeared silently amongthe mesquite bushes. 

She did not cry out nor start. Her very veins seemed frozen with horror, and she could not have spoken if she tried. It was all over in a secondand the creature gone, so that she almost doubted her senses andwondered if she had seen aright. Then one hand went swiftly to herthroat and she shrank toward her companion. 

"There is nothing to fear, " he said, reassuringly, and laid a stronghand comfortingly across the neck of her horse. "The pussy-cat was asunwilling for our company as we for hers. Besides, look here!"--and heraised his hand and shot into the air. "She'll not come near us now. "

"I am not afraid!" said the girl, bravely. "At least, I don't think Iam--very! But it's all so new and unexpected, you know. Do people aroundhere always shoot in that--well--unpremeditated fashion?"

They laughed together. 

"Excuse me, " he said. "I didn't realize the shot might startle you evenmore than the wildcat. It seems I'm not fit to have charge of a lady. Itold you I was a roughneck. "

"You're taking care of me beautifully, " said Margaret Earle, loyally, "and I'm glad to get used to shots if that's the thing to be expectedoften. "

Just then they came to the top of the low, rolling hill, and ahead inthe darkness there gleamed a tiny, wizened light set in a blotch ofblackness. Under the great white stars it burned a sickly red and seemedout of harmony with the night. 

"There we are!" said the Boy, pointing toward it. "That's thebunk-house. You needn't be afraid. Pop Wallis 'll be snoring by thistime, and we'll come away before he's about in the morning. He alwayssleeps late after he's been off on a bout. He's been gone three days, selling some cattle, and he'll have a pretty good top on. "

The girl caught her breath, gave one wistful look up at the wide, starrysky, a furtive glance at the strong face of her protector, andsubmitted to being lifted down to the ground. 

Before her loomed the bunk-house, small and mean, built of logs, withonly one window in which the flicker of the lanterns menaced, withunknown trials and possible perils for her to meet. 

CHAPTER IV

When Margaret Earle dawned upon that bunk-room the men sat up with oneaccord, ran their rough, red hands through their rough, tousled hair, smoothed their beards, took down their feet from the benches where theywere resting. That was as far as their etiquette led them. Most of themcontinued to smoke their pipes, and all of them stared at herunreservedly. Such a sight of exquisite feminine beauty had not come totheir eyes in many a long day. Even in the dim light of the smokylanterns, and with the dust and weariness of travel upon her, MargaretEarle was a beautiful girl. 

"That's what's the matter, father, " said her mother, when the subject ofMargaret's going West to teach had first been mentioned. "She's toobeautiful. Far too beautiful to go among savages! If she were homely andold, now, she might be safe. That would be a different matter. "

Yet Margaret had prevailed, and was here in the wild country. Now, standing on the threshold of the log cabin, she read, in the unveiledadmiration that startled from the eyes of the men, the meaning of hermother's fears. 

Yet withal it was a kindly admiration not unmixed with awe. For therewas about her beauty a touch of the spiritual which set her above thecommon run of women, making men feel her purity and sweetness, andinclining their hearts to worship rather than be bold. 

The Boy had been right. Pop Wallis was asleep and out of the way. From alittle shed room at one end his snoring marked time in the silence thatthe advent of the girl made in the place. 

In the doorway of the kitchen offset Mom Wallis stood with herpassionless face--a face from which all emotions had long ago beenburned by cruel fires--and looked at the girl, whose expression wasvivid with her opening life all haloed in a rosy glow. 

A kind of wistful contortion passed over Mom Wallis's hopelesscountenance, as if she saw before her in all its possibility ofperfection the life that she herself had lost. Perhaps it was no longerpossible for her features to show tenderness, but a glow of somethinglike it burned in her eyes, though she only turned away with the sameold apathetic air, and without a word went about preparing a meal forthe stranger. 

Margaret looked wildly, fearfully, around the rough assemblage when shefirst entered the long, low room, but instantly the boy introduced heras "the new teacher for the Ridge School beyond the Junction, " and thesewere Long Bill, Big Jim, the Fiddling Boss, Jasper Kemp, Fade-awayForbes, Stocky, Croaker, and Fudge. An inspiration fell upon thefrightened girl, and she acknowledged the introduction by a radiantsmile, followed by the offering of her small gloved hand. Each man indumb bewilderment instantly became her slave, and accepted the offeredhand with more or less pleasure and embarrassment. The girl proved herright to be called tactful, and, seeing her advantage, followed it upquickly by a few bright words. These men were of an utterly differenttype from any she had ever met before, but they had in their eyes a kindof homage which Pop Wallis had not shown and they were not repulsive toher. Besides, the Boy was in the background, and her nerve had returned. The Boy knew how a lady should be treated. She was quite ready to "playup" to his lead. 

It was the Boy who brought the only chair the bunk-house afforded, arude, home-made affair, and helped her off with her coat and hat in hiseasy, friendly way, as if he had known her all his life; while the men, to whom such gallant ways were foreign, sat awkwardly by and watched inwonder and amaze. 

Most of all they were astonished at "the Kid, " that he could fall sonaturally into intimate talk with this delicate, beautiful woman. Shewas another of his kind, a creature not made in the same mold as theirs. They saw it now, and watched the fairy play with almost childishinterest. Just to hear her call him "Mr. Gardley"!--Lance Gardley, thatwas what he had told them was his name the day he came among them. Theyhad not heard it since. The Kid! Mr. Gardley!

There it was, the difference between them! They looked at the girl halfjealously, yet proudly at the Boy. He was theirs--yes, in a way he wastheirs--had they not found him in the wilderness, sick and nigh todeath, and nursed him back to life again? He was theirs; but he knewhow to drop into her world, too, and not be ashamed. They were glad thathe could, even while it struck them with a pang that some day he wouldgo back to the world to which he belonged--and where they could never beat home. 

It was a marvel to watch her eat the coarse corn-bread and pork that MomWallis brought her. It might have been a banquet, the pleasant way sheseemed to look at it. Just like a bird she tasted it daintily, andsmiled, showing her white teeth. There was nothing of the idea ofgreediness that each man knew he himself felt after a fast. It was allbeautiful, the way she handled the two-tined fork and the old steelknife. They watched and dropped their eyes abashed as at a lovelysacrament. They had not felt before that eating could be an art. Theydid not know what art meant. 

Such strange talk, too! But the Kid seemed to understand. About thesky--their old, common sky, with stars that they saw every night--makingsuch a fuss about that, with words like "wide, " "infinite, " "azure, " and"gems. " Each man went furtively out that night before he slept and tooka new look at the sky to see if he could understand. 

The Boy was planning so the night would be but brief. He knew the girlwas afraid. He kept the talk going enthusiastically, drawing in one ortwo of the men now and again. Long Bill forgot himself and laughed out ahoarse guffaw, then stopped as if he had been choked. Stocky, red in theface, told a funny story when commanded by the Boy, and then dissolvedin mortification over his blunders. The Fiddling Boss obediently gotdown his fiddle from the smoky corner beside the fireplace and played aweird old tune or two, and then they sang. First the men, with hoarse, quavering approach and final roar of wild sweetness; then Margaret andthe Boy in duet, and finally Margaret alone, with a few bashful chordson the fiddle, feeling their way as accompaniment. 

Mom Wallis had long ago stopped her work and was sitting huddled in thedoorway on a nail-keg with weary, folded hands and a strange wistfulnesson her apathetic face. A fine silence had settled over the group as thegirl, recognizing her power, and the pleasure she was giving, sang on. Now and then the Boy, when he knew the song, would join in with his richtenor. 

It was a strange night, and when she finally lay down to rest on a hardcot with a questionable-looking blanket for covering and Mom Wallis asher room-mate, Margaret Earle could not help wondering what her motherand father would think now if they could see her. Would they not, perhaps, almost prefer the water-tank and the lonely desert for her toher present surroundings?

Nevertheless, she slept soundly after her terrible excitement, and wokewith a start of wonder in the early morning, to hear the men outsidesplashing water and humming or whistling bits of the tunes she had sungto them the night before. 

Mom Wallis was standing over her, looking down with a hunger in her eyesat the bright waves of Margaret's hair and the soft, sleep-flushedcheeks. 

"You got dretful purty hair, " said Mom Wallis, wistfully. 

Margaret looked up and smiled in acknowledgment of the compliment. 

"You wouldn't b'lieve it, but I was young an' purty oncet. Beats all howmuch it counts to be young--an' purty! But land! It don't last long. Make the most of it while you got it. "

Browning's immortal words came to Margaret's lips--

 Grow old along with me, The best is yet to be, The last of life for which the first was made--

but she checked them just in time and could only smile mutely. How couldshe speak such thoughts amid these intolerable surroundings? Then withsudden impulse she reached up to the astonished woman and, drawing herdown, kissed her sallow cheek. 

"Oh!" said Mom Wallis, starting back and laying her bony hands upon theplace where she had been kissed, as if it hurt her, while a dull redstole up from her neck over her cheeks and high forehead to the roots ofher hay-colored hair. All at once she turned her back upon her visitorand the tears of the years streamed down her impassive face. 

"Don't mind me, " she choked, after a minute. "I liked it real good, onlyit kind of give me a turn. " Then, after a second: "It's time t' eat. Youc'n wash outside after the men is done. "

That, thought Margaret, had been the scheme of this woman's wholelife--"After the men is done!"

So, after all, the night was passed in safety, and a wonderful dawninghad come. The blue of the morning, so different from the blue of thenight sky, was, nevertheless, just as unfathomable; the air seemedfilled with straying star-beams, so sparkling was the clearness of thelight. 

But now a mountain rose in the distance with heliotrope-and-purplebounds to stand across the vision and dispel the illusion of the nightthat the sky came down to the earth all around like a close-fittingdome. There were mountains on all sides, and a slender, dark line ofmesquite set off the more delicate colorings of the plain. 

Into the morning they rode, Margaret and the Boy, before Pop Wallis wasyet awake, while all the other men stood round and watched, eager, jealous for the handshake and the parting smile. They told her theyhoped she would come again and sing for them, and each one had anawkward word of parting. Whatever Margaret Earle might do with herschool, she had won seven loyal friends in the camp, and she rode awayamid their admiring glances, which lingered, too, on the broad shouldersand wide sombrero of her escort riding by her side. 

"Wal, that's the end o' him, I 'spose, " drawled Long Bill, with a deepsigh, as the riders passed into the valley out of their sight. 

"H'm!" said Jasper Kemp, hungrily. "I reck'n _he_ thinks it's jes' th'beginnin'!"

"Maybe so! Maybe so!" said Big Jim, dreamily. 

The morning was full of wonder for the girl who had come straight froman Eastern city. The view from the top of the mesa, or the cool, dimentrance of a cañon where great ferns fringed and feathered its walls, and strange caves hollowed out in the rocks far above, made real thestories she had read of the cave-dwellers. It was a new world. 

The Boy was charming. She could not have picked out among her cityacquaintances a man who would have done the honors of the desert moredelightfully than he. She had thought him handsome in the starlight andin the lantern-light the night before, but now that the morning shoneupon him she could not keep from looking at him. His fresh color, whichno wind and weather could quite subdue, his gray-blue eyes with thatmixture of thoughtfulness and reverence and daring, his crisp, browncurls glinting with gold in the sunlight--all made him good to lookupon. There was something about the firm set of his lips and chin thatmade her feel a hidden strength about him. 

When they camped a little while for lunch he showed the thoughtfulnessand care for her comfort that many an older man might not have had. Evenhis talk was a mixture of boyishness and experience and he seemed toknow her thoughts before she had them fully spoken. 

"I do not understand it, " she said, looking him frankly in the eyes atlast. "How ever in the world did one like _you_ get landed among allthose dreadful men! Of course, in their way, some of them are not sobad; but they are not like you, not in the least, and never could be. "

They were riding out upon the plain now in the full afternoon light, anda short time would bring them to her destination. 

A sad, set look came quickly into the Boy's eyes and his face grewalmost hard. 

"It's an old story. I suppose you've heard it before, " he said, and hisvoice tried to take on a careless note, but failed. "I didn't make goodback there"--he waved his hand sharply toward the East--"so I came outhere to begin again. But I guess I haven't made good here, either--notin the way I meant when I came. "

"You can't, you know, " said Margaret. "Not here. "

"Why?" He looked at her earnestly, as if he felt the answer might helphim. 

"Because you have to go back where you didn't make good and pick up thelost opportunities. You can't really make good till you do that _rightwhere you left off_. "

"But suppose it's too late?"

"It's never too late if we're in earnest and not too proud. "

There was a long silence then, while the Boy looked thoughtfully off atthe mountains, and when he spoke again it was to call attention to thebeauty of a silver cloud that floated lazily on the horizon. ButMargaret Earle had seen the look in his gray eyes and was not deceived. 

A few minutes later they crossed another mesa and descended to theenterprising little town where the girl was to begin her winter's work. The very houses and streets seemed to rise briskly and hasten to meetthem those last few minutes of their ride. 

Now that the experience was almost over, the girl realized that she hadenjoyed it intensely, and that she dreaded inexpressibly that she mustbid good-by to this friend of a few hours and face an unknown world. Ithad been a wonderful day, and now it was almost done. The two looked ateach other and realized that their meeting had been an epoch in theirlives that neither would soon forget--that neither wanted to forget. 

CHAPTER V

Slower the horses walked, and slower. The voices of the Boy and girlwere low when they spoke about the common things by the wayside. Oncetheir eyes met, and they smiled with something both sad and glad inthem. 

Margaret was watching the young man by her side and wondering atherself. He was different from any man whose life had come near to hersbefore. He was wild and worldly, she could see that, and unrestrained bymany of the things that were vital principles with her, and yet she feltstrangely drawn to him and wonderfully at home in his company. She couldnot understand herself nor him. It was as if his real soul had lookedout of his eyes and spoken, untrammeled by the circumstances of birth orbreeding or habit, and she knew him for a kindred spirit. And yet he wasfar from being one in whom she would have expected even to find afriend. Where was her confidence of yesterday? Why was it that shedreaded to have this strong young protector leave her to meet alone aworld of strangers, whom yesterday at this time she would have gladlywelcomed?

Now, when his face grew thoughtful and sad, she saw the hard, bitterlines that were beginning to be graven about his lips, and her heartached over what he had said about not making good. She wondered if therewas anything else she could say to help him, but no words came to her, and the sad, set look about his lips warned her that perhaps she hadsaid enough. He was not one who needed a long dissertation to bring athought home to his consciousness. 

Gravely they rode to the station to see about Margaret's trunks and makeinquiries for the school and the house where she had arranged to board. Then Margaret sent a telegram to her mother to say that she had arrivedsafely, and so, when all was done and there was no longer an excuse forlingering, the Boy realized that he must leave her. 

They stood alone for just a moment while the voluble landlady went toattend to something that was boiling over on the stove. It was an uglylittle parlor that was to be her reception-room for the next year atleast, with red-and-green ingrain carpet of ancient pattern, hideouschromos on the walls, and frantically common furniture setting up in itsshining varnish to be pretentious; but the girl had not seen it yet. Shewas filled with a great homesickness that had not possessed her evenwhen she said good-by to her dear ones at home. She suddenly realizedthat the people with whom she was to be thrown were of another worldfrom hers, and this one friend whom she had found in the desert wasleaving her. 

She tried to shake hands formally and tell him how grateful she was tohim for rescuing her from the perils of the night, but somehow wordsseemed so inadequate, and tears kept crowding their way into her throatand eyes. Absurd it was, and he a stranger twenty hours before, and aman of other ways than hers, besides. Yet he was her friend and rescuer. 

She spoke her thanks as well as she could, and then looked up, a swift, timid glance, and found his eyes upon her earnestly and troubled. 

"Don't thank me, " he said, huskily. "I guess it was the best thing Iever did, finding you. I sha'n't forget, even if you never let me seeyou again--and--I hope you will. " His eyes searched hers wistfully. 

"Of course, " she said. "Why not?"

"I thank you, " he said in quaint, courtly fashion, bending low over herhand. "I shall try to be worthy of the honor. "

And so saying, he left her and, mounting his horse, rode away into thelengthening shadows of the afternoon. 

She stood in the forlorn little room staring out of the window after herlate companion, a sense of utter desolation upon her. For the moment allher brave hopes of the future had fled, and if she could have slippedunobserved out of the front door, down to the station, and boarded somewaiting express to her home, she would gladly have done it then andthere. 

Try as she would to summon her former reasons for coming to this wild, she could not think of one of them, and her eyes were very near totears. 

But Margaret Earle was not given to tears, and as she felt them smartbeneath her lids she turned in a panic to prevent them. She could notafford to cry now. Mrs. Tanner would be returning, and she must not findthe "new schoolma'am" weeping. 

With a glance she swept the meager, pretentious room, and then, suddenly, became aware of other presences. In the doorway stood a manand a dog, both regarding her intently with open surprise, not unmixedwith open appraisement and a marked degree of admiration. 

The man was of medium height, slight, with a putty complexion; cold, pale-blue eyes; pale, straw-colored hair, and a look of self-indulgencearound his rather weak mouth. He was dressed in a city business suit ofthe latest cut, however, and looked as much out of place in that crudelittle house as did Margaret Earle herself in her simple gown ofdark-blue crêpe and her undeniable air of style and good taste. 

His eyes, as they regarded her, had in them a smile that the girlinstinctively resented. Was it a shade too possessive and complacentlysure for a stranger?

The dog, a large collie, had great, liquid, brown eyes, menacing orloyal, as circumstances dictated, and regarded her with an air of briefindecision. She felt she was being weighed in the balance by both pairsof eyes. Of the two the girl preferred the dog. 

Perhaps the dog understood, for he came a pace nearer and waved hisplumy tail tentatively. For the dog she felt a glow of friendliness atonce, but for the man she suddenly, and most unreasonably, of course, conceived one of her violent and unexpected dislikes. 

Into this tableau bustled Mrs. Tanner. "Well, now, I didn't go to leaveyou by your lonesome all this time, " she apologized, wiping her hands onher apron, "but them beans boiled clean over, and I hed to put 'em in abigger kettle. You see, I put in more beans 'count o' you bein' here, an' I ain't uset to calca'latin' on two extry. " She looked happily fromthe man to the girl and back again. 

"Mr. West, I 'spose, o' course, you interjuced yerself? Bein' apreacher, you don't hev to stan' on ceremony like the rest of mankind. You 'ain't? Well, let me hev the pleasure of interjucin' our newschool-teacher, Miss Margaret Earle. I 'spect you two 'll be awfulchummy right at the start, both bein' from the East that way, an' bothhevin' ben to college. "

Margaret Earle acknowledged the bow with a cool little inclination ofher head. She wondered why she didn't hate the garrulous woman whorattled on in this happy, take-it-for-granted way; but there wassomething so innocently pleased in her manner that she couldn't helpputting all her wrath on the smiling man who came forward instantly witha low bow and a voice of fulsome flattery. 

"Indeed, Miss Earle, I assure you I am happily surprised. I am sure Mrs. Tanner's prophecy will come true and we shall be the best of friends. When they told me the new teacher was to board here I really hesitated. I have seen something of these Western teachers in my time, and scarcelythought I should find you congenial; but I can see at a glance that youare the exception to the rule. "

He presented a soft, unmanly white hand, and there was nothing to do buttake it or seem rude to her hostess; but her manner was like icicles, and she was thankful she had not yet removed her gloves. 

If the reverend gentleman thought he was to enjoy a lingering hand-clasphe was mistaken, for the gloved finger-tips merely touched his hand andwere withdrawn, and the girl turned to her hostess with a smile offinality as if he were dismissed. He did not seem disposed to take thehint and withdraw, however, until on a sudden the great dog came andstood between them with open-mouthed welcome and joyous greeting in theplumy, wagging tail. He pushed close to her and looked up into her faceinsistently, his hanging pink tongue and wide, smiling countenanceproclaiming that he was satisfied with his investigation. 

Margaret looked down at him, and then stooped and put her arms about hisneck. Something in his kindly dog expression made her feel suddenly asif she had a real friend. 

It seemed the man, however, did not like the situation. He kickedgingerly at the dog's hind legs, and said in a harsh voice:

"Get out of the way, sir. You're annoying the lady. Get out, I say!"

The dog, however, uttered a low growl and merely showed the whites ofhis menacing eyes at the man, turning his body slightly so that he stoodacross the lady's way protectingly, as if to keep the man from her. 

Margaret smiled at the dog and laid her hand on his head, as if tosignify her acceptance of the friendship he had offered her, and hewaved his plume once more and attended her from the room, neither ofthem giving further attention to the man. 

"Confound that dog!" said Rev. Frederick West, in a most unpreacher-liketone, as he walked to the window and looked out. Then to himself hemused: "A pretty girl. A _very pretty_ girl. I really think it'll beworth my while to stay a month at least. "

Up in her room the "very pretty girl" was unpacking her suit-case andstruggling with the tears. Not since she was a wee little girl and wentto school all alone for the first time had she felt so very forlorn, andit was the little bare bedroom that had done it. At least that had beenthe final straw that had made too great the burden of keeping down thosethreatening tears. 

It was only a bare, plain room with unfinished walls, rough woodwork, acheap wooden bed, a bureau with a warped looking-glass, and on the floorwas a braided rug of rags. A little wooden rocker, another small, straight wooden chair, a hanging wall-pocket decorated with purpleroses, a hanging bookshelf composed of three thin boards strung togetherwith maroon picture cord, a violently colored picture-card of "Moses inthe Bulrushes" framed in straws and red worsted, and bright-blue papershades at the windows. That was the room!

How different from her room at home, simply and sweetly finished anewfor her home-coming from college! It rose before her homesick visionnow. Soft gray walls, rose-colored ceiling, blended by a wreath ofexquisite wild roses, whose pattern was repeated in the border of thesimple curtains and chair cushions, white-enamel furniture, pretty brassbed soft as down in its luxurious mattress, spotless and invitingalways. She glanced at the humpy bed with its fringed gray spread andlumpy-looking pillows in dismay. She had not thought of littlediscomforts like that, yet how they loomed upon her weary vision now!

The tiny wooden stand with its thick, white crockery seemed illsubstitute for the dainty white bath-room at home. She had known shewould not have her home luxuries, of course, but she had not realizeduntil set down amid these barren surroundings what a difference theywould make. 

Going to the window and looking out, she saw for the first tune the oneluxury the little room possessed--a view! And such a view! Wide andwonderful and far it stretched, in colors unmatched by painter's brush, a purple mountain topped by rosy clouds in the distance. For the secondtime in Arizona her soul was lifted suddenly out of itself and itsdismay by a vision of the things that God has made and the largeness ofit all. 

CHAPTER VI

For some time she stood and gazed, marveling at the beauty and recallingsome of the things her companion of the afternoon had said about hisimpressions of the place; then suddenly there loomed a dark speck in thenear foreground of her meditation, and, looking down annoyed, shediscovered the minister like a gnat between the eye and a grandspectacle, his face turned admiringly up to her window, his hand liftedin familiar greeting. 

Vexed at his familiarity, she turned quickly and jerked down the shade;then throwing herself on the bed, she had a good cry. Her nerves wereterribly wrought up. Things seemed twisted in her mind, and she feltthat she had reached the limit of her endurance. Here was she, MargaretEarle, newly elected teacher to the Ashland Ridge School, lying on herbed in tears, when she ought to be getting settled and planning her newlife; when the situation demanded her best attention she was wrought upover a foolish little personal dislike. Why did she have to dislike aminister, anyway, and then take to a wild young fellow whose life thusfar had been anything but satisfactory even to himself? Was it herperverse nature that caused her to remember the look in the eyes of theBoy who had rescued her from a night in the wilderness, and to feelthere was far more manliness in his face than in the face of the manwhose profession surely would lead one to suppose he was more worthy ofher respect and interest? Well, she was tired. Perhaps things wouldassume their normal relation to one another in the morning. And so, after a few minutes, she bathed her face in the little, heavy, iron-stone wash-bowl, combed her hair, and freshened the collar andruffles in her sleeves preparatory to going down for the evening meal. Then, with a swift thought, she searched through her suit-case for everyavailable article wherewith to brighten that forlorn room. 

The dainty dressing-case of Dresden silk with rosy ribbons that her girlfriends at home had given as a parting gift covered a generous portionof the pine bureau, and when she had spread it out and bestowed itssilver-mounted brushes, combs, hand-glass, and pretty sachet, thingsseemed to brighten up a bit. She hung up a cobweb of a lace boudoir capwith its rose-colored ribbons over the bleary mirror, threw her kimonoof flowered challis over the back of the rocker, arranged her soap andtoothbrush, her own wash-rag and a towel brought from home on thewash-stand, and somehow felt better and more as if she belonged. Lastshe ranged her precious photographs of father and mother and the dearvine-covered church and manse across in front of the mirror. When hertrunks came there would be other things, and she could bear it, perhaps, when she had this room buried deep in the home belongings. But thiswould have to do for to-night, for the trunk might not come tillmorning, and, anyhow, she was too weary to unpack. 

She ventured one more look out of her window, peering carefully at firstto make sure her fellow-boarder was not still standing down below on thegrass. A pang of compunction shot through her conscience. What would herdear father think of her feeling this way toward a minister, and beforeshe knew the first thing about him, too? It was dreadful! She must shakeit off. Of course he was a good man or he wouldn't be in the ministry, and she had doubtless mistaken mere friendliness for forwardness. Shewould forget it and try to go down and behave to him the way her fatherwould want her to behave toward a fellow-minister. 

Cautiously she raised the shade again and looked out. The mountain wasbathed in a wonderful ruby light fading into amethyst, and all the pathbetween was many-colored like a pavement of jewels set in filigree. While she looked the picture changed, glowed, softened, and changedagain, making her think of the chapter about the Holy City inRevelation. 

She started at last when some one knocked hesitatingly on the door, forthe wonderful sunset light had made her forget for the moment where shewas, and it seemed a desecration to have mere mortals step in andannounce supper, although the odor of pork and cabbage had beenproclaiming it dumbly for some time. 

She went to the door, and, opening it, found a dark figure standing inthe hall. For a minute she half feared it was the minister, until ashy, reluctant backwardness in the whole stocky figure and the stirringof a large furry creature just behind him made her sure it was not. 

"Ma says you're to come to supper, " said a gruff, untamed voice; andMargaret perceived that the person in the gathering gloom of the hallwas a boy. 

"Oh!" said Margaret, with relief in her voice. "Thank you for coming totell me. I meant to come down and not give that trouble, but I got tolooking at the wonderful sunset. Have you been watching it?" She pointedacross the room to the window. "Look! Isn't that a great color there onthe tip of the mountain? I never saw anything like that at home. Isuppose you're used to it, though. "

The boy came a step nearer the door and looked blankly, halfwonderingly, across at the window, as if he expected to see somephenomenon. "Oh! _That!_" he exclaimed, carelessly. "Sure! We have themall the time. "

"But that wonderful silver light pouring down just in that one tinyspot!" exclaimed Margaret. "It makes the mountain seem alive andsmiling!"

The boy turned and looked at her curiously. "Gee!" said he, "I c'n showyou plenty like that!" But he turned and looked at it a long, lingeringminute again. 

"But we mustn't keep your mother waiting, " said Margaret, rememberingand turning reluctantly toward the door. "Is this your dog? Isn't he abeauty? He made me feel really as if he were glad to see me. " Shestooped and laid her hand on the dog's head and smiled brightly up athis master. 

The boy's face lit with a smile, and he turned a keen, appreciative lookat the new teacher, for the first time genuinely interested in her. "Cap's a good old scout, " he admitted. 

"So his name is Cap. Is that short for anything?"

"Cap'n. "

"Captain. What a good name for him. He looks as if he were a captain, and he waves that tail grandly, almost as if it might be a badge ofoffice. But who are you? You haven't told me your name yet. Are you Mrs. Tanner's son?"

The boy nodded. "I'm just Bud Tanner. "

"Then you are one of my pupils, aren't you? We must shake hands onthat. " She put out her hand, but she was forced to go out after Bud'sreluctant red fist, take it by force in a strange grasp, and do all theshaking; for Bud had never had that experience before in his life, andhe emerged from it with a very red face and a feeling as if his rightarm had been somehow lifted out of the same class with the rest of hisbody. It was rather awful, too, that it happened just in the opendining-room door, and that "preacher-boarder" watched the wholeperformance. Bud put on an extra-deep frown and shuffled away from theteacher, making a great show of putting Cap out of the dining-room, though he always sat behind his master's chair at meals, much to thediscomfiture of the male boarder, who was slightly in awe of hisdogship, not having been admitted into friendship as the lady had been. 

Mr. West stood back of his chair, awaiting the arrival of the newboarder, an expectant smile on his face, and rubbing his hands togetherwith much the same effect as a wolf licking his lips in anticipation ofa victim. In spite of her resolves to like the man, Margaret was againstruck with aversion as she saw him standing there, and was intenselyrelieved when she found that the seat assigned to her was on theopposite side of the table from him, and beside Bud. West, however, didnot seem to be pleased with the arrangement, and, stepping around thetable, said to his landlady:

"Did you mean me to sit over here?" and he placed a possessive hand onthe back of the chair that was meant for Bud. 

"No, Mister West, you jest set where you ben settin', " responded Mrs. Tanner. She had thought the matter all out and decided that the ministercould converse with the teacher to the better advantage of the wholetable if he sat across from her. Mrs. Tanner was a born match-maker. This she felt was an opportunity not to be despised, even if it sometimerobbed the Ridge School of a desirable teacher. 

But West did not immediately return to his place at the other side ofthe table. To Margaret's extreme annoyance he drew her chair and waitedfor her to sit down. The situation, however, was somewhat relieved ofits intimacy by a sudden interference from Cap, who darted away from hisfrowning master and stepped up authoritatively to the minister's sidewith a low growl, as if to say:

"Hands off that chair! That doesn't belong to you!"

West suddenly released his hold on the chair without waiting to shoveit up to the table, and precipitately retired to his own place. "Thatdog's a nuisance!" he said, testily, and was answered with a glare fromBud's dark eyes. 

Bud came to his seat with his eyes still set savagely on the minister, and Cap settled down protectingly behind Margaret's chair. 

Mrs. Tanner bustled in with the coffee-pot, and Mr. Tanner came last, having just finished his rather elaborate hair-comb at the kitchen glasswith the kitchen comb, in full view of the assembled multitude. He was alittle, thin, wiry, weather-beaten man, with skin like leather andsparse hair. Some of his teeth were missing, leaving deep hollows in hischeeks, and his kindly protruding chin was covered with scraggy graywhiskers, which stuck out ahead of him like a cow-catcher. He was in hisshirt-sleeves and collarless, but looked neat and clean, and he greetedthe new guest heartily before he sat down, and nodded to the minister:

"Naow, Brother West, I reckon we're ready fer your part o' theperformance. You'll please to say grace. "

Mr. West bowed his sleek, yellow head and muttered a formal blessingwith an offhand manner, as if it were a mere ceremony. Bud staredcontemptuously at him the while, and Cap uttered a low rumble as of adistant growl. Margaret felt a sudden desire to laugh, and tried tocontrol herself, wondering what her father would feel about it all. 

The genial clatter of knives and forks broke the stiffness after theblessing. Mrs. Tanner bustled back and forth from the stove to thetable, talking clamorously the while. Mr. Tanner joined in with hisflat, nasal twang, responding, and the minister, with an air of uttercontempt for them both, endeavored to set up a separate and altogetherprivate conversation with Margaret across the narrow table; but Margaretinnocently had begun a conversation with Bud about the school, and hadto be addressed by name each time before Mr. West could get herattention. Bud, with a boy's keenness, noticed her aversion, and putaside his own backwardness, entering into the contest with remarkablyvoluble replies. The minister, if he would be in the talk at all, wasforced to join in with theirs, and found himself worsted andcontradicted by the boy at every turn. 

Strange to say, however, this state of things only served to make theman more eager to talk with the lady. She was not anxious for hisattention. Ah! She was coy, and the acquaintance was to have the zest ofbeing no lightly won friendship. All the better. He watched her as shetalked, noted every charm of lash and lid and curving lip; stared socontinually that she finally gave up looking his way at all, even whenshe was obliged to answer his questions. 

Thus, at last, the first meal in the new home was concluded, andMargaret, pleading excessive weariness, went to her room. She felt as ifshe could not endure another half-hour of contact with her present worlduntil she had had some rest. If the world had been just Bud and the dogshe could have stayed below stairs and found out a little more about thenew life; but with that oily-mouthed minister continually butting inher soul was in a tumult. 

When she had prepared for rest she put out her light and drew up theshade. There before her spread the wide wonder of the heavens again, with the soft purple of the mountain under stars; and she was carriedback to the experience of the night before with a vivid memory of hercompanion. Why, just _why_ couldn't she be as interested in the ministerdown there as in the wild young man? Well, she was too tired to-night toanalyze it all, and she knelt beside her window in the starlight topray. As she prayed her thoughts were on Lance Gardley once more, andshe felt her heart go out in longing for him, that he might find a wayto "make good, " whatever his trouble had been. 

As she rose to retire she heard a step below, and, looking down, saw theminister stalking back and forth in the yard, his hands clasped behind, his head thrown back raptly. He could not see her in her dark room, butshe pulled the shade down softly and fled to her hard little bed. Wasthat man going to obsess her vision everywhere, and must she try to likehim just because he was a minister?

So at last she fell asleep. 

CHAPTER VII

The next day was filled with unpacking and with writing letters home. Bydint of being very busy Margaret managed to forget the minister, whoseemed to obtrude himself at every possible turn of the day, and wouldhave monopolized her if she had given him half a chance. 

The trunks, two delightful steamer ones, and a big packing-box with herbooks, arrived the next morning and caused great excitement in thehousehold. Not since they moved into the new house had they seen so manythings arrive. Bud helped carry them up-stairs, while Cap ran wildlyback and forth, giving sharp barks, and the minister stood by the frontdoor and gave ineffectual and unpractical advice to the man who hadbrought them. Margaret heard the man and Bud exchanging their opinion ofWest in low growls in the hall as they entered her door, and shecouldn't help feeling that she agreed with them, though she might nothave expressed her opinion in the same terms. 

The minister tapped at her door a little later and offered his servicesin opening her box and unstrapping her trunks; but she told him Bud hadalready performed that service for her, and thanked him with a finalitythat forbade him to linger. She half hoped he heard the vicious littleclick with which she locked the door after him, and then wondered if shewere wicked to feel that way. But all such compunctions were presentlyforgotten in the work of making over her room. 

The trunks, after they were unpacked and repacked with the things shewould not need at once, were disposed in front of the two windows withwhich the ugly little room was blessed. She covered them with two Bagdadrugs, relics of her college days, and piled several college pillows fromthe packing-box on each, which made the room instantly assume a homelikeair. Then out of the box came other things. Framed pictures of homescenes, college friends and places, pennants, and flags from football, baseball, and basket-ball games she had attended; photographs; a fewprints of rare paintings simply framed; a roll of rose-bordered whitescrim like her curtains at home, wherewith she transformed theblue-shaded windows and the stiff little wooden rocker, and even made avalance and bed-cover over pink cambric for her bed. The bureau andwash-stand were given pink and white covers, and the ugly wallsliterally disappeared beneath pictures, pennants, banners, and symbols. 

When Bud came up to call her to dinner she flung the door open, and hepaused in wide-eyed amazement over the transformation. His eyes kindledat a pair of golf-sticks, a hockey-stick, a tennis-racket, and a bigbasket-ball in the corner; and his whole look of surprise was soridiculous that she had to laugh. He looked as if a miracle had beenperformed on the room, and actually stepped back into the hall to gethis breath and be sure he was still in his father's house. 

"I want you to come in and see all my pictures and get acquainted withmy friends when you have time, " she said. "I wonder if you could makesome more shelves for my books and help me unpack and set them up?"

"Sure!" gasped Bud, heartily, albeit with awe. She hadn't asked theminister; she had asked _him_--_Bud!_ Just a boy! He looked around theroom with anticipation. What wonder and delight he would have looking atall those things!

Then Cap stepped into the middle of the room as if he belonged, mouthopen, tongue lolling, smiling and panting a hearty approval, as helooked about at the strangeness for all the world as a human being mighthave done. It was plain he was pleased with the change. 

There was a proprietary air about Bud during dinner that was pleasant toMargaret and most annoying to West. It was plain that West looked on theboy as an upstart whom Miss Earle was using for the present to block hisapproach, and he was growing most impatient over the delay. He suggestedthat perhaps she would like his escort to see something of hersurroundings that afternoon; but she smilingly told him that she wouldbe very busy all the afternoon getting settled, and when he offeredagain to help her she cast a dazzling smile on Bud and said she didn'tthink she would need any more help, that Bud was going to do a fewthings for her, and that was all that was necessary. 

Bud straightened up and became two inches taller. He passed the bread, suggested two pieces of pie, and filled her glass of water as if shewere his partner. Mr. Tanner beamed to see his son in high favor, butMrs. Tanner looked a little troubled for the minister. She thoughtthings weren't just progressing as fast as they ought to between him andthe teacher. 

Bud, with Margaret's instructions, managed to make a very creditablebookcase out of the packing-box sawed in half, the pieces set side byside. She covered them deftly with green burlap left over from collegedays, like her other supplies, and then the two arranged the books. Budwas delighted over the prospect of reading some of the books, for theywere not all school-books, by any means, and she had brought plenty ofthem to keep her from being lonesome on days when she longed to fly backto her home. 

At last the work was done, and they stood back to survey it. The booksfilled up every speck of space and overflowed to the three littlehanging shelves over them; but they were all squeezed in at last excepta pile of school-books that were saved out to take to the school-house. Margaret set a tiny vase on the top of one part of the packing-case anda small brass bowl on the top of the other, and Bud, after a knowingglance, scurried away for a few minutes and brought back a handful ofgorgeous cactus blossoms to give the final touch. 

"Gee!" he said, admiringly, looking around the room. "Gee! You wouldn'tknow it fer the same place!"

That evening after supper Margaret sat down to write a long letter home. She had written a brief letter, of course, the night before, but hadbeen too weary to go into detail. The letter read:

 DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER, --I'm unpacked and settled at last in my room, and now I can't stand it another minute till I talk to you. 

 Last night, of course, I was pretty homesick, things all looked so strange and new and different. I had known they would, but then I didn't realize at all how different they would be. But I'm not getting homesick already; don't think it. I'm not a bit sorry I came, or at least I sha'n't be when I get started in school. One of the scholars is Mrs. Tanner's son, and I like him. He's crude, of course, but he has a brain, and he's been helping me this afternoon. We made a bookcase for my books, and it looks fine. I wish you could see it. I covered it with the green burlap, and the books look real happy in smiling rows over on the other side of the room. Bud Tanner got me some wonderful cactus blossoms for my brass bowl. I wish I could send you some. They are gorgeous!

 But you will want me to tell about my arrival. Well, to begin with, I was late getting here [Margaret had decided to leave out the incident of the desert altogether, for she knew by experience that her mother would suffer terrors all during her absence if she once heard of that wild adventure], which accounts for the lateness of the telegram I sent you. I hope its delay didn't make you worry any. 

 A very nice young man named Mr. Gardley piloted me to Mrs. Tanner's house and looked after my trunks for me. He is from the East. It was fortunate for me that he happened along, for he was most kind and gentlemanly and helpful. Tell Jane not to worry lest I'll fall in love with him; he doesn't live here. He belongs to a ranch or camp or something twenty-five miles away. She was so afraid I'd fall in love with an Arizona man and not come back home. 

 Mrs. Tanner is very kind and motherly according to her lights. She has given me the best room in the house, and she talks a blue streak. She has thin, brown hair turning gray, and she wears it in a funny little knob on the tip-top of her round head to correspond with the funny little tuft of hair on her husband's protruding chin. Her head is set on her neck like a clothes-pin, only she is squattier than a clothes-pin. She always wears her sleeves rolled up (at least so far she has) and she always bustles around noisily and apologizes for everything in the jolliest sort of way. I would like her, I guess, if it wasn't for the other boarder; but she has quite made up her mind that I shall like him, and I don't, of course, so she is a bit disappointed in me so far. 

 Mr. Tanner is very kind and funny, and looks something like a jack-knife with the blades half-open. He never disagrees with Mrs. Tanner, and I really believe he's in love with her yet, though they must have been married a good while. He calls her "Ma, " and seems restless unless she's in the room. When she goes out to the kitchen to get some more soup or hash or bring in the pie, he shouts remarks at her all the time she's gone, and she answers, utterly regardless of the conversation the rest of the family are carrying on. It's like a phonograph wound up for the day. 

 Bud Tanner is about fourteen, and I like him. He's well developed, strong, and almost handsome; at least he would be if he were fixed up a little. He has fine, dark eyes and a great shock of dark hair. He and I are friends already. And so is the dog. The dog is a peach! Excuse me, mother, but I just must use a little of the dear old college slang somewhere, and your letters are the only safety-valve, for I'm a schoolmarm now and must talk "good and proper" all the time, you know. 

 The dog's name is Captain, and he looks the part. He has constituted himself my bodyguard, and it's going to be very nice having him. He's perfectly devoted already. He's a great, big, fluffy fellow with keen, intelligent eyes, sensitive ears, and a tail like a spreading plume. You'd love him, I know. He has a smile like the morning sunshine. 

 And now I come to the only other member of the family, the boarder, and I hesitate to approach the topic, because I have taken one of my violent and naughty dislikes to him, and--awful thought--mother! father! _he's a minister!_ Yes, he's a _Presbyterian minister_! I know it will make you feel dreadfully, and I thought some of not telling you, but my conscience hurt me so I had to. I just can't _bear_ him, so there! Of course, I may get over it, but I don't see how ever, for I can't think of anything that's more like him than _soft soap_! Oh yes, there is one other word. Grandmother used to use it about men she hadn't any use for, and that was "squash. " Mother, I can't help it, but he does seem something like a squash. One of that crook-necked, yellow kind with warts all over it, and a great, big, splurgy vine behind it to account for its being there at all. Insipid and thready when it's cooked, you know, and has to have a lot of salt and pepper and butter to make it go down at all. Now I've told you the worst, and I'll try to describe him and see what you think I'd better do about it. Oh, he isn't the regular minister here, or missionary--I guess they call him. He's located quite a distance off, and only comes once a month to preach here, and, anyhow, _he's_ gone East now to take his wife to a hospital for an operation, and won't be back for a couple of months, perhaps, and this man isn't even taking his place. He's just here for his health or for fun or something, I guess. He says he had a large suburban church near New York, and had a nervous breakdown; but I've been wondering if he didn't make a mistake, and it wasn't the church had the nervous breakdown instead. He isn't very big nor very little; he's just insignificant. His hair is like wet straw, and his eyes like a fish's. His hand feels like a dead toad when you have to shake hands, which I'm thankful doesn't have to be done but once. He looks at you with a flat, sickening grin. He has an acquired double chin, acquired to make him look pompous, and he dresses stylishly and speaks of the inhabitants of this country with contempt. He wants to be very affable, and offers to take me to all sorts of places, but so far I've avoided him. I can't think how they ever came to let him be a minister--I really can't! And yet, I suppose it's all my horrid old prejudice, and father will be grieved and you will think I am perverse. But, really, I'm sure he's not one bit like father was when he was young. I never saw a minister like him. Perhaps I'll get over it. I do sometimes, you know, so don't begin to worry yet. I'll try real hard. I suppose he'll preach Sunday, and then, perhaps, his sermon will be grand and I'll forget how soft-soapy he looks and think only of his great thoughts. 

 But I know it will be a sort of comfort to you to know that there is a Presbyterian minister in the house with me, and I'll really try to like him if I can. 

 There's nothing to complain of in the board. It isn't luxurious, of course, but I didn't expect that. Everything is very plain, but Mrs. Tanner manages to make it taste good. She makes fine corn-bread, almost as good as yours--not quite. 

 My room is all lovely, now that I have covered its bareness with my own things, but it has one great thing that can't compare with anything at home, and that is its view. It is wonderful! I wish I could make you see it. There is a mountain at the end of it that has as many different garments as a queen. To-night, when sunset came, it grew filmy as if a gauze of many colors had dropped upon it and melted into it, and glowed and melted until it turned to slate blue under the wide, starred blue of the wonderful night sky, and all the dark about was velvet. Last night my mountain was all pink and silver, and I have seen it purple and rose. But you can't think the wideness of the sky, and I couldn't paint it for you with words. You must see it to understand. A great, wide, dark sapphire floor just simply ravished with stars like big jewels!

 But I must stop and go to bed, for I find the air of this country makes me very sleepy, and my wicked little kerosene-lamp is smoking. I guess you would better send me my student-lamp, after all, for I'm surely going to need it. 

 Now I must turn out the light and say good night to my mountain, and then I will go to sleep thinking of you. Don't worry about the minister. I'm very polite to him, but I shall never--_no, never_--fall in love with _him_--tell Jane. 

 Your loving little girl, MARGARET. 

CHAPTER VIII

Margaret had arranged with Bud to take her to the school-house the nextmorning, and he had promised to have a horse hitched up and ready at teno'clock, as it seemed the school was a magnificent distance from herboarding-place. In fact, everything seemed to be located with a view tobeing as far from everywhere else as possible. Even the town wasscattering and widespread and sparse. 

When she came down to breakfast she was disappointed to find that Budwas not there, and she was obliged to suffer a breakfast tête-à-têtewith West. By dint, however, of asking him questions instead of allowinghim to take the initiative, she hurried through her breakfast quitesuccessfully, acquiring a superficial knowledge of her fellow-boarderquite distant and satisfactory. She knew where he spent his college daysand at what theological seminary he had prepared for the ministry. Hehad served three years in a prosperous church of a fat little suburb ofNew York, and was taking a winter off from his severe, strenuouspastoral labors to recuperate his strength, get a new stock of sermonsready, and possibly to write a book of some of his experiences. Heflattened his weak, pink chin learnedly as he said this, and tried tolook at her impressively. He said that he should probably take a largecity church as his next pastorate when his health was fully recuperated. He had come out to study the West and enjoy its freedom, as heunderstood it was a good place to rest and do as you please unhamperedby what people thought. He wanted to get as far away from churches andthings clerical as possible. He felt it was due himself and his workthat he should. He spoke of the people he had met in Arizona as a kindof tamed savages, and Mrs. Tanner, sitting behind her coffee-pot for amoment between bustles, heard his comments meekly and looked at him withawe. What a great man he must be, and how fortunate for the new teacherthat he should be there when she came!

Margaret drew a breath of relief as she hurried away from thebreakfast-table to her room. She was really anticipating the ride to theschool with Bud. She liked boys, and Bud had taken her fancy. But whenshe came down-stairs with her hat and sweater on she found West standingout in front, holding the horse. 

"Bud had to go in another direction, Miss Earle, " he said, touching hishat gracefully, "and he has delegated to me the pleasant task of drivingyou to the school. "

Dismay filled Margaret's soul, and rage with young Bud. He had desertedher and left her in the hands of the enemy! And she had thought heunderstood! Well, there was nothing for it but to go with this man, muchas she disliked it. Her father's daughter could not be rude to aminister. 

She climbed into the buckboard quickly to get the ceremony over, for herescort was inclined to be too officious about helping her in, andsomehow she couldn't bear to have him touch her. Why was it that shefelt so about him? Of course he must be a good man. 

West made a serious mistake at the very outset of that ride. He took itfor granted that all girls like flattery, and he proceeded to try it onMargaret. But Margaret did not enjoy being told how delighted he was tofind that instead of the loud, bold "old maid" he had expected, she hadturned out to be "so beautiful and young and altogether congenial"; and, coolly ignoring his compliments, she began a fire of questions again. 

She asked about the country, because that was the most obvious topic ofconversation. What plants were those that grew by the wayside? She foundhe knew greasewood from sage-brush, and that was about all. To some ofher questions he hazarded answers that were absurd in the light of theexplanations given her by Gardley two days before. However, shereflected that he had been in the country but a short time, and that hewas by nature a man not interested in such topics. She tried religiousmatters, thinking that here at least they must have common interests. She asked him what he thought of Christianity in the West as comparedwith the East. Did he find these Western people more alive and awake tothe things of the Kingdom?

West gave a startled look at the clear profile of the young woman besidehim, thought he perceived that she was testing him on his clerical side, flattened his chin in his most learned, self-conscious manner, clearedhis throat, and put on wisdom. 

"Well, now, Miss Earle, " he began, condescendingly, "I really don't knowthat I have thought much about the matter. Ah--you know I have beenresting absolutely, and I really haven't had opportunity to study thesituation out here in detail; but, on the whole, I should say thateverything was decidedly primitive; yes--ah--I might say--ah--well, crude. Yes, _crude_ in the extreme! Why, take it in this missiondistrict. The missionary who is in charge seems to be teaching the mostabsurd of the old dogmas such as our forefathers used to teach. Ihaven't met him, of course. He is in the East with his wife for a time. I am told she had to go under some kind of an operation. I have nevermet him, and really don't care to do so; but to judge from all I hear, he is a most unfit man for a position of the kind. For example, he isteaching such exploded doctrines as the old view of the atonement, theinfallibility of the Scriptures, the deity of Christ, belief inmiracles, and the like. Of course, in one sense it really matters verylittle what the poor Indians believe, or what such people as the Tannersare taught. They have but little mind, and would scarcely know thedifference; but you can readily see that with such a primitive, unenlightened man at the head of religious affairs, there could scarcelybe much broadening and real religious growth. Ignorance, of course, holds sway out here. I fancy you will find that to be the case soonenough. What in the world ever led you to come to a field like this tolabor? Surely there must have been many more congenial places open tosuch as you. " He leaned forward and cast a sentimental glance at her, his eyes looking more "fishy" than ever. 

"I came out here because I wanted to get acquainted with this greatcountry, and because I thought there was an opportunity to do good, "said Margaret, coldly. She did not care to discuss her own affairs withthis man. "But, Mr. West, I don't know that I altogether understand you. Didn't you tell me that you were a Presbyterian minister?"

"I certainly did, " he answered, complacently, as though he were honoringthe whole great body of Presbyterians by making the statement. 

"Well, then, what in the world did you mean? All Presbyterians, ofcourse, believe in the infallibility of the Scriptures and the deity ofJesus--and the atonement!"

"Not necessarily, " answered the young man, loftily. "You will find, mydear young lady, that there is a wide, growing feeling in our church infavor of a broader view. The younger men, and the great student body ofour church, have thrown to the winds all their former beliefs and areready to accept new light with open minds. The findings of science haveopened up a vast store of knowledge, and all thinking men mustacknowledge that the old dogmas are rapidly vanishing away. Your fatherdoubtless still holds to the old faith, perhaps, and we must be lenientwith the older men who have done the best they could with the light theyhad; but all younger, broad-minded men are coming to the new way oflooking at things. We have had enough of the days of preaching hell-fireand damnation. We need a religion of love to man, and good works. Youshould read some of the books that have been written on this subject ifyou care to understand. I really think it would be worth your while. Youlook to me like a young woman with a mind. I have a few of the latestwith me. I shall be glad to read and discuss them with you if you areinterested. "

"Thank you, Mr. West, " said Margaret, coolly, though her eyes burnedwith battle. "I think I have probably read most of those books anddiscussed them with my father. He may be old, but he is not without'light, ' as you call it, and he always believed in knowing all that theother side was saying. He brought me up to look into these things formyself. And, anyhow, I should not care to read and discuss any of thesesubjects with a man who denies the deity of my Saviour and does notbelieve in the infallibility of the Bible. It seems to me you havenothing left--"

"Ah! Well--now--my dear young lady--you mustn't misjudge me! I should besorry indeed to shake your faith, for an innocent faith is, of course, amost beautiful thing, even though it may be unfounded. "

"Indeed, Mr. West, that would not be possible. You could not shake myfaith in my Christ, because _I know Him_. If I had not ever felt Hispresence, nor been guided by His leading, such words might possiblytrouble me, but having seen 'Him that is invisible, ' _I know_. "Margaret's voice was steady and gentle. It was impossible for even thatman not to be impressed by her words. 

"Well, let us not quarrel about it, " he said, indulgently, as to alittle child. "I'm sure you have a very charming way of stating it, andI'm not sure that it is not a relief to find a woman of theold-fashioned type now and then. It really is man's place to look intothese deeper questions, anyway. It is woman's sphere to live and loveand make a happy home--"

His voice took on a sentimental purr, and Margaret was fairly boilingwith rage at him; but she would not let her temper give way, especiallywhen she was talking on the sacred theme of the Christ. She felt as ifshe must scream or jump out over the wheel and run away from thisobnoxious man, but she knew she would do neither. She knew she would sitcalmly through the expedition and somehow control that conversation. There was one relief, anyway. Her father would no longer expect respectand honor and liking toward a minister who denied the very life andfoundation of his faith. 

"It can't be possible that the school-house is so far from the town, "she said, suddenly looking around at the widening desert in front ofthem. "Haven't you made some mistake?"

"Why, I thought we should have the pleasure of a little drive first, "said West, with a cunning smile. "I was sure you would enjoy seeing thecountry before you get down to work, and I was not averse myself to adrive in such delightful company. "

"I would like to go back to the school-house at once, please, " saidMargaret, decidedly, and there was that in her voice that caused the manto turn the horse around and head it toward the village. 

"Why, yes, of course, if you prefer to see the school-house first, wecan go back and look it over, and then, perhaps, you will like to ride alittle farther, " he said. "We have plenty of time. In fact, Mrs. Tannertold me she would not expect us home to dinner, and she put a verypromising-looking basket of lunch under the seat for us in case we gothungry before we came back. "

"Thank you, " said Margaret, quite freezingly now. "I really do not careto drive this morning. I would like to see the school-house, and then Imust return to the house at once. I have a great many things to do thismorning. "

Her manner at last penetrated even the thick skin of the self-centeredman, and he realized that he had gone a step too far in his attentions. He set himself to undo the mischief, hoping perhaps to melt her yet totake the all-day drive with him. But she sat silent during the return tothe village, answering his volubility only by yes or no when absolutelynecessary. She let him babble away about college life and tell incidentsof his late pastorate, at some of which he laughed immoderately; but hecould not even bring a smile to her dignified lips. 

He hoped she would change her mind when they got to the school building, and he even stooped to praise it in a kind of contemptuous way as theydrew up in front of the large adobe building. 

"I suppose you will want to go through the building, " he said, affably, producing the key from his pocket and putting on a pleasant anticipatorysmile, but Margaret shook her head. She simply would not go into thebuilding with that man. 

"It is not necessary, " she said again, coldly. "I think I will go homenow, please. " And he was forced to turn the horse toward the Tannerhouse, crestfallen, and wonder why this beautiful girl was so extremelyhard to win. He flattered himself that he had always been able tointerest any girl he chose. It was really quite a bewildering type. Buthe would win her yet. 

He set her down silently at the Tanner door and drove off, lunch-basketand all, into the wilderness, vexed that she was so stubbornlyunfriendly, and pondering how he might break down the dignity wherewithshe had surrounded herself. There would be a way and he would find it. There was a stubbornness about that weak chin of his, when one observedit, and an ugliness in his pale-blue eye; or perhaps you would call it ahardness. 

CHAPTER IX

She watched him furtively from her bedroom window, whither she had fledfrom Mrs. Tanner's exclamations. He wore his stylish derby tilted downover his left eye and slightly to one side in a most unministerialmanner, showing too much of his straw-colored back hair, which rose in acowlick at the point of contact with the hat, and he looked a small, mean creature as he drove off into the vast beauty of the plain. Margaret, in her indignation, could not help comparing him with theyoung man who had ridden away from the house two days before. 

And he to set up to be a minister of Christ's gospel and talk like thatabout the Bible and Christ! Oh, what was the church of Christ coming to, to have ministers like that? How ever did he get into the ministry, anyway? Of course, she knew there were young men with honest doubts whosometimes slid through nowadays, but a mean little silly man like that?How ever did he get in? What a lot of ridiculous things he had said! Hewas one of those described in the Bible who "darken counsel with words. "He was not worth noticing. And yet, what a lot of harm he could do in anunlearned community. Just see how Mrs. Tanner hung upon his words, asthough they were law and gospel! How _could_ she?

Margaret found herself trembling yet over the words he had spoken aboutChrist, the atonement, and the faith. They meant so much to her and toher mother and father. They were not mere empty words of tradition thatshe believed because she had been taught. She had lived her faith andproved it; and she could not help feeling it like a personal insult tohave him speak so of her Saviour. She turned away and took her Bible totry and get a bit of calmness. 

She fluttered the leaves for something--she could not just tellwhat--and her eye caught some of the verses that her father had markedfor her before she left home for college, in the days when he wastroubled for her going forth into the world of unbelief. 

 As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him: Rooted and built up in him, and established in the faith, as ye have been taught, abounding therein with thanksgiving. Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in him dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.... 

How the verses crowded upon one another, standing out clearly from thepages as she turned them, marked with her father's own hand in clear inkunderlinings. It almost seemed as if God had looked ahead to these timesand set these words down just for the encouragement of his troubledservants who couldn't understand why faith was growing dim. God knewabout it, had known it would be, all this doubt, and had put words herejust for troubled hearts to be comforted thereby. 

 For I know whom I have believed [How her heart echoed to that statement!], and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. 

And on a little further:

 Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his. 

There was a triumphant look to the words as she read them. 

Then over in Ephesians her eye caught a verse that just seemed to fitthat poor blind minister:

 Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart. 

And yet he was set to guide the feet of the blind into the way of life!And he had looked on her as one of the ignorant. Poor fellow! Hecouldn't know the Christ who was her Saviour or he never would havespoken in that way about Him. What could such a man preach? What wasthere left to preach, but empty words, when one rejected all thesedoctrines? Would she have to listen to a man like that Sunday afterSunday? Did the scholars in her school, and their parents, and the youngman out at the camp, and his rough, simple-hearted companions have tolisten to preaching from that man, when they listened to any? Her heartgrew sick within her, and she knelt beside her bed for a strengtheningword with the Christ who since her little childhood had been a veryreal presence in her life. 

When she arose from her knees she heard the kitchen door slamdown-stairs and the voice of Bud calling his mother. She went to herdoor and opened it, listening a moment, and then called the boy. 

There was a dead silence for an instant after her voice was heard, andthen Bud appeared at the foot of the stairs, very frowning as to brow, and very surly as to tone:

"What d'ye want?"

It was plain that Bud was "sore. "

"Bud, "--Margaret's voice was sweet and a bit cool as she leaned over therailing and surveyed the boy; she hadn't yet got over her compulsoryride with that minister--"I wanted to ask you, please, next time youcan't keep an appointment with me don't ask anybody else to take yourplace. I prefer to pick out my own companions. It was all right, ofcourse, if you had to go somewhere else, but I could easily have gonealone or waited until another time. I'd rather not have you ask Mr. Westto go anywhere with me again. "

Bud's face was a study. It cleared suddenly and his jaw dropped insurprise; his eyes fairly danced with dawning comprehension andpleasure, and then his brow drew down ominously. 

"I never ast him, " he declared, vehemently. "He told me you wanted himto go, and fer me to get out of the way 'cause you didn't want to hurtmy feelings. Didn't you say nothing to him about it at all thismorning?"

"No, indeed!" said Margaret, with flashing eyes. 

"Well, I just thought he was that kind of a guy. I told ma he was lying, but she said I didn't understand young ladies, and, of course, youdidn't want me when there was a man, and especially a preacher, round. Some preacher he is! This 's the second time I've caught him lying. Ithink he's the limit. I just wish you'd see our missionary. If he washere he'd beat the dust out o' that poor stew. _He's_ some man, he is. He's a regular white man, _our missionary_! Just you wait till _he_ getsback. "

Margaret drew a breath of relief. Then the missionary was a real man, after all. Oh, for his return!

"Well, I'm certainly very glad it wasn't your fault, Bud. I didn't feelvery happy to be turned off that way, " said the teacher, smiling downupon the rough head of the boy. 

"You bet it wasn't my fault!" said the boy, vigorously. "I was sore's apup at you, after you'd made a date and all, to do like that; but Ithought if you wanted to go with that guy it was up to you. "

"Well, I didn't and I don't. You'll please understand hereafter that I'dalways rather have your company than his. How about going down to theschool-house some time to-day? Have you time?"

"Didn't you go yet?" The boy's face looked as if he had received akingdom, and his voice had a ring of triumph. 

"We drove down there, but I didn't care to go in without you, so we cameback. "

"Wanta go now?" The boy's face fairly shone. 

"I'd love to. I'll be ready in three minutes. Could we carry some booksdown?"

"Sure! Oh--gee! That guy's got the buckboard. We'll have to walk. Doggone him!"

"I shall enjoy a walk. I want to find out just how far it is, for Ishall have to walk every day, you know. "

"No, you won't, neither, 'nless you wanta. I c'n always hitch up. "

"That'll be very nice sometimes, but I'm afraid I'd get spoiled if youbabied me all the time that way. I'll be right down. "

They went out together into the sunshine and wideness of the morning, and it seemed a new day had been created since she got back from herride with the minister. She looked at the sturdy, honest-eyed boy besideher, and was glad to have him for a companion. 

Just in front of the school-house Margaret paused. "Oh, I forgot! Thekey! Mr. West has the key in his pocket! We can't get in, can we?"

"Aw, we don't need a key, " said her escort. "Just you wait!" And hewhisked around to the back of the building, and in about three minuteshis shock head appeared at the window. He threw the sash open anddropped out a wooden box. "There!" he said, triumphantly, "you c'n climbup on that, cantcha? Here, I'll holdya steady. Take holta my hand. "

And so it was through the front window that the new teacher of the RidgeSchool first appeared on her future scene of action and surveyed herlittle kingdom. 

Bud threw open the shutters, letting the view of the plains and thesunshine into the big, dusty room, and showed her the new blackboardwith great pride. 

"There's a whole box o' chalk up on the desk, too; 'ain't never beenopened yet. Dad said that was your property. Want I should open it?"

"Why, yes, you might, and then we'll try the blackboard, won't we?"

Bud went to work gravely opening the chalk-box as if it were a smalltreasure-chest, and finally produced a long, smooth stick of chalk andhanded it to her with shining eyes. 

"You try it first, Bud, " said the teacher, seeing his eagerness; and theboy went forward awesomely, as if it were a sacred precinct and heunworthy to intrude. 

Shyly, awkwardly, with infinite painstaking, he wrote in a cramped hand, "William Budlong Tanner, " and then, growing bolder, "Ashland, Arizona, "with a big flourish underneath. 

"Some class!" he said, standing back and regarding his handiwork withpride. "Say, I like the sound the chalk makes on it, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, " said Margaret, heartily, "so smooth and business-like, isn't it? You'll enjoy doing examples in algebra on it, won't you?"

"Good night! Algebra! Me? No chance. I can't never get through thearithmetic. The last teacher said if he'd come back twenty years fromnow he'd still find me working compound interest. "

"Well, we'll prove to that man that he wasn't much of a judge of boys, "said Margaret, with a tilt of her chin and a glint of her teacher-mettleshowing in her eyes. "If you're not in algebra before two months areover I'll miss my guess. We'll get at it right away and show him. "

Bud watched her, charmed. He was beginning to believe that almostanything she tried would come true. 

"Now, Bud, suppose we get to work. I'd like to get acquainted with myclass a little before Monday. Isn't it Monday school opens? I thoughtso. Well, suppose you give me the names of the scholars and I'll writethem down, and that will help me to remember them. Where will you begin?Here, suppose you sit down in the front seat and tell me who sits thereand a little bit about him, and I'll write the name down; and then youmove to the next seat and tell me about the next one, and so on. Willyou?"

"Sure!" said Bud, entering into the new game. "But it ain't a 'he' sitsthere. It's Susie Johnson. She's Bill Johnson's smallest girl. She hasto sit front 'cause she giggles so much. She has yellow curls and sheducks her head down and snickers right out this way when anything funnyhappens in school. " And Bud proceeded to duck and wriggle in perfectimitation of the small Susie. 

Margaret saw the boy's power of imitation was remarkable, and laughedheartily at his burlesque. Then she turned and wrote "Susie Johnson" onthe board in beautiful script. 

Bud watched with admiration, saying softly under his breath; "Gee!that's great, that blackboard, ain't it?"

Amelia Schwartz came next. She was long and lank, with the buttons offthe back of her dress, and hands and feet too large for her garments. Margaret could not help but see her in the clever pantomime the boycarried on. Next was Rosa Rogers, daughter of a wealthy cattleman, thepink-cheeked, blue-eyed beauty of the school, with all the boys at herfeet and a perfect knowledge of her power over them. Bud didn't, ofcourse, state it that way, but Margaret gathered as much from hissimpering smile and the coy way he looked out of the corner of his eyesas he described her. 

Down the long list of scholars he went, row after row, and when he cameto the seats where the boys sat his tone changed. She could tell by theshading of his voice which boys were the ones to look out for. 

Jed Brower, it appeared, was a name to conjure with. He could ride anyhorse that ever stood on four legs, he could outshoot most of the boysin the neighborhood, and he never allowed any teacher to tell him whatto do. He was Texas Brower's only boy, and always had his own way. Hisfather was on the school board. Jed Brower was held in awe, even whilehis methods were despised, by some of the younger boys. He was big andpowerful, and nobody dared fool with him. Bud did not exactly warnMargaret that she must keep on the right side of Jed Brower, but heconveyed that impression without words. Margaret understood. She knewalso that Tad Brooks, Larry Parker, Jim Long, and Dake Foster weremerely henchmen of the worthy Jed, and not negligible quantities whentaken by themselves. But over the name of Timothy Forbes--"DelicateForbes, " Bud explained was his nickname--the boy lingered with thatloving inflection of admiration that a younger boy will sometimes havefor a husky, courageous older lad. The second time Bud spoke of him hecalled him "Forbeszy, " and Margaret perceived that here was Bud's modelof manhood. Delicate Forbes could outshoot and outride even Jed Browerwhen he chose, and his courage with cattle was that of a man. Moreover, he was good to the younger boys and wasn't above pitching baseball withthem when he had nothing better afoot. It became evident from thegeneral description that Delicate Forbes was not called so from any lackof inches to his stature. He had a record of having licked every manteacher in the school, and beaten by guile every woman teacher they hadhad in six years. Bud was loyal to his admiration, yet it could beplainly seen that he felt Margaret's greatest hindrance in the schoolwould be Delicate Forbes. 

Margaret mentally underlined the names in her memory that belonged tothe back seats in the first and second rows of desks, and went homepraying that she might have wisdom and patience to deal with Jed Browerand Timothy Forbes, and through them to manage the rest of her school. 

She surprised Bud at the dinner-table by handing him a neat diagram ofthe school-room desks with the correct names of all but three or four ofthe scholars written on them. Such a feat of memory raised her severalnotches in his estimation. 

"Say, that's going some! Guess you won't forget nothing, no matter howmuch they try to make you. "

CHAPTER X

The minister did not appear until late in the evening, after Margarethad gone to her room, for which she was sincerely thankful. She couldhear his voice, fretful and complaining, as he called loudly for Bud totake the horse. It appeared he had lost his way and wandered many milesout of the trail. He blamed the country for having no better trails, andthe horse for not being able to find his way better. Mr. Tanner had goneto bed, but Mrs. Tanner bustled about and tried to comfort him. 

"Now that's too bad! Dearie me! Bud oughta hev gone with you, so heought. Bud! _Oh_, Bud, you 'ain't gonta sleep yet, hev you? Wake up andcome down and take this horse to the barn. "

But Bud declined to descend. He shouted some sleepy directions from hisloft where he slept, and said the minister could look after his ownhorse, he "wasn'ta gonta!" There was "plentya corn in the bin. "

The minister grumbled his way to the barn, highly incensed at Bud, anddisturbed the calm of the evening view of Margaret's mountain by hiscomplaints when he returned. He wasn't accustomed to handling horses, and he thought Bud might have stayed up and attended to it himself. Budchuckled in his loft and stole down the back kitchen roof while theminister ate his late supper. Bud would never leave the old horse tothat amateur's tender mercies, but he didn't intend to make it easy forthe amateur. Margaret, from her window-seat watching the night in thedarkness, saw Bud slip off the kitchen roof and run to the barn, and shesmiled to herself. She liked that boy. He was going to be a goodcomrade. 

The Sabbath morning dawned brilliantly, and to the homesick girl theresuddenly came a sense of desolation on waking. A strange land was this, without church-bells or sense of Sabbath fitness. The mountain, it istrue, greeted her with a holy light of gladness, but mountains are notdependent upon humankind for being in the spirit on the Lord's day. Theyare "continually praising Him. " Margaret wondered how she was to getthrough this day, this dreary first Sabbath away from her home and herSabbath-school class, and her dear old church with father preaching. Shehad been away, of course, a great many times before, but never to achurchless community. It was beginning to dawn upon her that that waswhat Ashland was--a churchless community. As she recalled the walk tothe school and the ride through the village she had seen nothing thatlooked like a church, and all the talk had been of the missionary. Theymust have services of some sort, of course, and probably that flabby, fish-eyed man, her fellow-boarder, was to preach; but her heart turnedsick at thought of listening to a man who had confessed to theunbeliefs that he had. Of course, he would likely know enough to keepsuch doubts to himself; but he had told her, and nothing he could saynow would help or uplift her in the least. 

She drew a deep sigh and looked at her watch. It was late. At home theearly Sabbath-school bells would be ringing, and little girls in white, with bunches of late fall flowers for their teachers, and holding handswith their little brothers, would be hurrying down the street. Fatherwas in his study, going over his morning sermon, and mother putting herlittle pearl pin in her collar, getting ready to go to her Bible class. Margaret decided it was time to get up and stop thinking of it all. 

She put on a little white dress that she wore to church at home andhurried down to discover what the family plans were for the day, butfound, to her dismay, that the atmosphere below-stairs was just likethat of other days. Mr. Tanner sat tilted back in a dining-room chair, reading the weekly paper, Mrs. Tanner was bustling in with hotcorn-bread, Bud was on the front-door steps teasing the dog, and theminister came in with an air of weariness upon him, as if he quiteintended taking it out on his companions that he had experienced atrying time on Saturday. He did not look in the least like a man whoexpected to preach in a few minutes. He declined to eat his egg becauseit was cooked too hard, and poor Mrs. Tanner had to try it twice beforeshe succeeded in producing a soft-boiled egg to suit him. Only theradiant outline of the great mountain, which Margaret could see over theminister's head, looked peaceful and Sabbath-like. 

"What time do you have service?" Margaret asked, as she rose from thetable. 

"Service?" It was Mr. Tanner who echoed her question as if he did notquite know what she meant. 

Mrs. Tanner raised her eyes from her belated breakfast with a worriedlook, like a hen stretching her neck about to see what she ought to donext for the comfort of the chickens under her care. It was apparentthat she had no comprehension of what the question meant. It was theminister who answered, condescendingly:

"Um! Ah! There is no church edifice here, you know, Miss Earle. Themission station is located some miles distant. "

"I know, " said Margaret, "but they surely have some religious service?"

"I really don't know, " said the minister, loftily, as if it weresomething wholly beneath his notice. 

"Then you are not going to preach this morning?" In spite of herselfthere was relief in her tone. 

"Most certainly not, " he replied, stiffly. "I came out here to rest, andI selected this place largely because it was so far from a church. Iwanted to be where I should not be annoyed by requests to preach. Ofcourse, ministers from the East would be a curiosity in these Westerntowns, and I should really get no rest at all if I had gone where myservices would have been in constant demand. When I came out here I wasin much the condition of our friend the minister of whom you havedoubtless heard. He was starting on his vacation, and he said to abrother minister, with a smile of joy and relief, 'No preaching, nopraying, no reading of the Bible for six whole weeks!'"

"Indeed!" said Margaret, freezingly. "No, I am not familiar withministers of that sort. " She turned with dismissal in her manner andappealed to Mrs. Tanner. "Then you really have no Sabbath service of anysort whatever in town?" There was something almost tragic in her face. She stood aghast at the prospect before her. 

Mrs. Tanner's neck stretched up a little longer, and her lips droppedapart in her attempt to understand the situation. One would scarcelyhave been surprised to hear her say, "Cut-cut-cut-ca-daw-cut?" sofluttered did she seem. 

Then up spoke Bud. "We gotta Sunday-school, ma!" There was pride ofpossession in Bud's tone, and a kind of triumph over the minister, albeit Bud had adjured Sunday-school since his early infancy. He wasready now, however, to be offered on the altar of Sunday-school, even, if that would please the new teacher--and spite the minister. "I'll takeyou ef you wanta go. " He looked defiantly at the minister as he said it. 

But at last Mrs. Tanner seemed to grasp what was the matter. "Why!--why!--why! You mean preaching service!" she clucked out. "Why, yes, Mr. West, wouldn't that be fine? You could preach for us. We couldhave it posted up at the saloon and the crossings, and out a ways onboth trails, and you'd have quite a crowd. They'd come from over to thecamp, and up the cañon way, and roundabouts. They'd do you credit, theysurely would, Mr. West. And you could have the school-house for ameeting-house. Pa, there, is one of the school board. There wouldn't bea bit of trouble--"

"Um! Ah! Mrs. Tanner, I assure you it's quite out of the question. Itold you I was here for absolute rest. I couldn't think of preaching. Besides, it's against my principles to preach without remuneration. It'sa wrong idea. The workman is worthy of his hire, you know, Mrs. Tanner, the Good Book says. " Mr. West's tone took on a self-righteousinflection. 

"Oh! Ef that's all, that 'u'd be all right!" she said, with relief. "Youcould take up a collection. The boys would be real generous. They alwaysare when any show comes along. They'd appreciate it, you know, and I'dlike fer Miss Earle here to hear you preach. It 'u'd be a real treat toher, her being a preacher's daughter and all. " She turned to Margaretfor support, but that young woman was talking to Bud. She had promptlyclosed with his offer to take her to Sunday-school, and now she hurriedaway to get ready, leaving Mrs. Tanner to make her clerical arrangementswithout aid. 

The minister, meantime, looked after her doubtfully. Perhaps, after all, it would have been a good move to have preached. He might have impressedthat difficult young woman better that way than any other, seeing sheposed as being so interested in religious matters. He turned to Mrs. Tanner and began to ask questions about the feasibility of a churchservice. The word "collection" sounded good to him. He was not averse toreplenishing his somewhat depleted treasury if it could be done soeasily as that. 

Meantime Margaret, up in her room, was wondering again how such a man asMr. West ever got into the Christian ministry. 

West was still endeavoring to impress the Tanners with the importance ofhis late charge in the East as Margaret came down-stairs. His pompoustones, raised to favor the deafness that he took for granted in Mr. Tanner, easily reached her ears. 

"I couldn't, of course, think of doing it every Sunday, you understand. It wouldn't be fair to myself nor my work which I have just left; but, of course, if there were sufficient inducement I might consent to preachsome Sunday before I leave. "

Mrs. Tanner's little satisfied cluck was quite audible as the girlclosed the front door and went out to the waiting Bud. 

The Sunday-school was a desolate affair, presided over by an elderly andvery illiterate man, who nursed his elbows and rubbed his chinmeditatively between the slow questions which he read out of thelesson-leaf. The woman who usually taught the children was called awayto nurse a sick neighbor, and the children were huddled together in arestless group. The singing was poor, and the whole of the exercisesdreary, including the prayer. The few women present sat and stared in akind of awe at the visitor, half belligerently, as if she were anintruder. Bud lingered outside the door and finally disappearedaltogether, reappearing when the last hymn was sung. Altogether the newteacher felt exceedingly homesick as she wended her way back to theTanners' beside Bud. 

"What do you do with yourself on Sunday afternoons, Bud?" she asked, assoon as they were out of hearing of the rest of the group. 

The boy turned wondering eyes toward her. "Do?" he repeated, puzzled. "Why, we pass the time away, like 'most any day. There ain't muchdifference. "

A great desolation possessed her. No church! Worse than no minister! NoSabbath! What kind of a land was this to which she had come?

The boy beside her smelled of tobacco smoke. He had been off somewheresmoking while she was in the dreary little Sunday-school. She looked athis careless boy-face furtively as they walked along. He smoked, ofcourse, like most boys of his age, probably, and he did a lot of otherthings he ought not to do. He had no interest in God or righteousness, and he did not take it for granted that the Sabbath was different fromany other day. A sudden heart-sinking came upon her. What was the use oftrying to do anything for such as he? Why not give it up now and go backwhere there was more promising material to work upon and where she wouldbe welcome indeed? Of course, she had known things would bediscouraging, but somehow it had seemed different from a distance. Itall looked utterly hopeless now, and herself crazy to have thought shecould do any good in a place like this. 

And yet the place needed somebody! That pitiful little Sunday-school!How forlorn it all was! She was almost sorry she had gone. It gave heran unhappy feeling for the morrow, which was to be her first day ofschool. 

Then, all suddenly, just as they were nearing the Tanner house, therecame one riding down the street with all the glory of the radiantmorning in his face, and a light in his eyes at seeing her that liftedaway her desolation, for here at last was a friend!

She wondered at herself. An unknown stranger, and a self-confessedfailure so far in his young life, and yet he seemed so good a sight toher amid these uncongenial surroundings!

CHAPTER XI

This stranger of royal bearing, riding a rough Western pony as if itwere decked with golden trappings, with his bright hair gleaming likeRoman gold in the sun, and his blue-gray eyes looking into hers with thegladness of his youth; this one who had come to her out of thenight-shadows of the wilderness and led her into safety! Yes, she wasglad to see him. 

He dismounted and greeted her, his wide hat in his hand, his eyes uponher face, and Bud stepped back, watching them in pleased surprise. Thiswas the man who had shot all the lights out the night of the big riot inthe saloon. He had also risked his life in a number of foolish ways atrecent festal carouses. Bud would not have been a boy had he not admiredthe young man beyond measure; and his boy worship of the teacher yieldedher to a fitting rival. He stepped behind and walked beside the pony, who was following his master meekly, as though he, too, were under theyoung man's charm. 

"Oh, and this is my friend, William Tanner, " spoke Margaret, turningtoward the boy loyally, (Whatever good angel made her call him William?Bud's soul swelled with new dignity as he blushed and acknowledged theintroduction by a grin. )

"Glad to know you, Will, " said the new-comer, extending his hand in ahearty shake that warmed the boy's heart in a trice. "I'm glad MissEarle has so good a protector. You'll have to look out for her. She'spretty plucky and is apt to stray around the wilderness by herself. Itisn't safe, you know, boy, for such as her. Look after her, will you?"

"Right I will, " said Bud, accepting the commission as if it wereHeaven-sent, and thereafter walked behind the two with his head in theclouds. He felt that he understood this great hero of the plains and wasone with him at heart. There could be no higher honor than to be theservitor of this man's lady. Bud did not stop to question how the newteacher became acquainted with the young rider of the plains. It wasenough that both were young and handsome and seemed to belong together. He felt they were fitting friends. 

The little procession walked down the road slowly, glad to prolong theway. The young man had brought her handkerchief, a filmy trifle of anexcuse that she had dropped behind her chair at the bunk-house, where ithad lain unnoticed till she was gone. He produced it from his innerpocket, as though it had been too precious to carry anywhere but overhis heart, yet there was in his manner nothing presuming, not a hint ofany intimacy other than their chance acquaintance of the wildernesswould warrant. He did not look at her with any such look as West hadgiven every time he spoke to her. She felt no desire to resent hisglance when it rested upon her almost worshipfully, for there wasrespect and utmost humility in his look. 

The men had sent gifts: some arrow-heads and a curiously fashionedvessel from the cañon of the cave-dwellers; some chips from thepetrified forest; a fern with wonderful fronds, root and all; and asheaf of strange, beautiful blossoms carefully wrapped in wet paper, andall fastened to the saddle. 

Margaret's face kindled with interest as he showed them to her one byone, and told her the history of each and a little message from the manwho had sent it. Mom Wallis, too, had baked a queer little cake and sentit. The young man's face was tender as he spoke of it. The girl saw thathe knew what her coming had meant to Mom Wallis. Her memory went quicklyback to those few words the morning she had wakened in the bunk-houseand found the withered old woman watching her with tears in her eyes. Poor Mom Wallis, with her pretty girlhood all behind her and such ablank, dull future ahead! Poor, tired, ill-used, worn-out Mom Wallis!Margaret's heart went out to her. 

"They want to know, " said the young man, half hesitatingly, "if sometime, when you get settled and have time, you would come to them againand sing? I tried to make them understand, of course, that you would bebusy, your time taken with other friends and your work, and you wouldnot want to come; but they wanted me to tell you they never enjoyedanything so much in years as your singing. Why, I heard Long Jim singing'Old Folks at Home' this morning when he was saddling his horse. Andit's made a difference. The men sort of want to straighten up thebunk-room. Jasper made a new chair yesterday. He said it would do whenyou came again. " Gardley laughed diffidently, as if he knew their hopeswere all in vain. 

But Margaret looked up with sympathy in her face, "I'll come! Of courseI'll come some time, " she said, eagerly. "I'll come as soon as I canarrange it. You tell them we'll have more than one concert yet. "

The young man's face lit up with a quick appreciation, and the flash ofhis eyes as he looked at her would have told any onlooker that he felthere was a girl in a thousand, a girl with an angel spirit, if ever sucha one walked the earth. 

Now it happened that Rev. Frederick West was walking impatiently up anddown in front of the Tanner residence, looking down the road about thattime. He had spent the morning in looking over the small bundle of "showsermons" he had brought with him in case of emergency, and had aboutdecided to accede to Mrs. Tanner's request and preach in Ashland beforehe left. This decision had put him in so self-satisfied a mood that hewas eager to announce it before his fellow-boarder. Moreover, he washungry, and he could not understand why that impudent boy and thatcoquettish young woman should remain away at Sunday-school such aninterminable time. 

Mrs. Tanner was frying chicken. He could smell it every time he took aturn toward the house. It really was ridiculous that they should keepdinner waiting this way. He took one more turn and began to think overthe sermon he had decided to preach. He was just recalling aparticularly eloquent passage when he happened to look down the roadonce more, and there they were, almost upon him! But Bud was no longerwalking with the maiden. She had acquired a new escort, a man of broadshoulders and fine height. Where had he seen that fellow before? Hewatched them as they came up, his small, pale eyes narrowing under theiryellow lashes with a glint of slyness, like some mean little animal thatmeant to take advantage of its prey. It was wonderful how many differentthings that man could look like for a person as insignificant as hereally was!

Well, he saw the look between the man and maiden; the look of sympathyand admiration and a fine kind of trust that is not founded on mereoutward show, but has found some hidden fineness of the soul. Not thatthe reverend gentleman understood that, however. He had no fineness ofsoul himself. His mind had been too thoroughly taken up with himself allhis life for him to have cultivated any. 

Simultaneous with the look came his recognition of the man or, at least, of where he had last seen him, and his little soul rejoiced at theadvantage he instantly recognized. 

He drew himself up importantly, flattened his chin upward until hislower lip protruded in a pink roll across his mouth, drew down hisyellow brows in a frown of displeasure, and came forward mentor-like tomeet the little party as it neared the house. He had the air of comingto investigate and possibly oust the stranger, and he looked at himkeenly, critically, offensively, as if he had the right to protect thelady. They might have been a pair of naughty children come back from aforbidden frolic, from the way he surveyed them. But the beauty of itwas that neither of them saw him, being occupied with each other, untilthey were fairly upon him. Then, there he stood offensively, as if hewere a great power to be reckoned with. 

"Well, well, well, Miss Margaret, you have got home at last!" he said, pompously and condescendingly, and then he looked into the eyes of hercompanion as if demanding an explanation of _his_ presence there. 

Margaret drew herself up haughtily. His use of her Christian name inthat familiar tone annoyed her exceedingly. Her eyes flashedindignantly, but the whole of it was lost unless Bud saw it, for Gardleyhad faced his would-be adversary with a keen, surprised scrutiny, andwas looking him over coolly. There was that in the young man's eye thatmade the eye of Frederick West quail before him. It was only an instantthe two stood challenging each other, but in that short time each knewand marked the other for an enemy. Only a brief instant and then Gardleyturned to Margaret, and before she had time to think what to say, heasked:

"Is this man a friend of yours, Miss _Earle_?" with marked emphasis onthe last word. 

"No, " said Margaret, coolly, "not a friend--a boarder in the house. "Then most formally, "Mr. West, my _friend_ Mr. Gardley. "

If the minister had not been possessed of the skin of a rhinoceros hewould have understood himself to be dismissed at that; but he was not aman accustomed to accepting dismissal, as his recent church in New YorkState might have testified. He stood his ground, his chin flatter thanever, his little eyes mere slits of condemnation. He did not acknowledgethe introduction by so much as the inclination of his head. His handswere clasped behind his back, and his whole attitude was one ofrighteous belligerence. 

Gardley gazed steadily at him for a moment, a look of mingled contemptand amusement gradually growing upon his face. Then he turned away as ifthe man were too small to notice. 

"You will come in and take dinner with me?" asked Margaret, eagerly. "Iwant to send a small package to Mrs. Wallis if you will be so good as totake it with you. "

"I'm sorry I can't stay to dinner, but I have an errand in anotherdirection and at some distance. I am returning this way, however, and, if I may, will call and get the package toward evening. "

Margaret's eyes spoke her welcome, and with a few formal words the youngman sprang on his horse, said, "So long, Will!" to Bud, and, ignoringthe minister, rode away. 

They watched him for an instant, for, indeed, he was a goodly sight upona horse, riding as if he and the horse were utterly one in spirit; thenMargaret turned quickly to go into the house. 

"Um! Ah! Miss Margaret!" began the minister, with a commandatory gesturefor her to stop. 

Margaret was the picture of haughtiness as she turned and said, "Miss_Earle_, if you please!"

"Um! Ah! Why, certainly, Miss--ah--_Earle_, if you wish it. Will youkindly remain here for a moment? I wish to speak with you. Bud, you maygo on. "

"I'll go when I like, and it's none of your business!" muttered Bud, ominously, under his breath. He looked at Margaret to see if she wishedhim to go. He had an idea that this might be one of the times when hewas to look after her. 

She smiled at him understandingly. "William may remain, Mr. West, " shesaid, sweetly. "Anything you have to say to me can surely be said in hispresence, " and she laid her hand lightly on Bud's sleeve. 

Bud looked down at the hand proudly and grew inches taller enjoying theminister's frown. 

"Um! Ah!" said West, unabashed. "Well, I merely wished to warn youconcerning the character of that person who has just left us. He isreally not a proper companion for you. Indeed, I may say he is quite thecontrary, and that to my personal knowledge--"

"He's as good as you are and better!" growled Bud, ominously. 

"Be quiet, boy! I wasn't speaking to you!" said West, as if he wereaddressing a slave. "If I hear another word from your lips I shallreport it to your father!"

"Go 's far 's you like and see how much I care!" taunted Bud, but wasstopped by Margaret's gentle pressure on his arm. 

"Mr. West, I thought I made you understand that Mr. Gardley is myfriend. "

"Um! Ah! Miss Earle, then all I have to say is that you have formed amost unwise friendship, and should let it proceed no further. Why, mydear young lady, if you knew all there is to know about him you wouldnot think of speaking to that young man. "

"Indeed! Mr. West, I suppose that might be true of a good many people, might it not, _if we knew all there is to know about them_? Nobody butGod could very well get along with some of us. "

"But, my dear young lady, you don't understand. This young person isnothing but a common ruffian, a gambler, in fact, and an habitué at thesaloons. I have seen him myself sitting in a saloon at a very late hourplaying with a vile, dirty pack of cards, and in the company of a lot oflow-down creatures--"

"May I ask how you came to be in a saloon at that hour, Mr. West?" Therewas a gleam of mischief in the girl's eyes, and her mouth looked as ifshe were going to laugh, but she controlled it. 

The minister turned very red indeed. "Well, I--ah--I had been calledfrom my bed by shouts and the report of a pistol. There was a fightgoing on in the room adjoining the bar, and I didn't know but myassistance might be needed!" (At this juncture Bud uttered a sort ofsnort and, placing his hands over his heart, ducked down as if a suddenpain had seized him. ) "But imagine my pain and astonishment when I wasinformed that the drunken brawl I was witnessing was but a nightly andcommon occurrence. I may say I remained for a few minutes, partly out ofcuriosity, as I wished to see all kinds of life in this new world forthe sake of a book I am thinking of writing. I therefore took carefulnote of the persons present, and was thus able to identify the personwho has just ridden away as one of the chief factors in that evening'sentertainment. He was, in fact, the man who, when he had pocketed allthe money on the gaming-table, arose and, taking out his pistol, shotout the lights in the room, a most dangerous and irregular proceeding--"

"Yes, and you came within an ace of being shot, pa says. The Kid's adead shot, he is, and you were right in the way. Served you right forgoing where you had no business!"

"I did not remain longer in that place, as you may imagine, " went on West, ignoring Bud, "for I found it was no place for a--for--a--ah--ministerof the gospel; but I remained long enough to hear from the lips of thisperson with whom you have just been walking some of the most terriblelanguage my ears have ever been permitted to--ah--witness!"

But Margaret had heard all that she intended to listen to on thatsubject. With decided tone she interrupted the voluble speaker, who wasevidently enjoying his own eloquence. 

"Mr. West, I think you have said all that it is necessary to say. Thereare still some things about Mr. Gardley that you evidently do not know, but I think you are in a fair way to learn them if you stay in this partof the country long. William, isn't that your mother calling us todinner? Let us go in; I'm hungry. "

Bud followed her up the walk with a triumphant wink at the discomfitedminister, and they disappeared into the house; but when Margaret wentup to her room and took off her hat in front of the little warpedlooking-glass there were angry tears in her eyes. She never felt morelike crying in her life. Chagrin and anger and disappointment were allstruggling in her soul, yet she must not cry, for dinner would be readyand she must go down. Never should that mean little meddling man seethat his words had pierced her soul. 

For, angry as she was at the minister, much as she loathed his petty, jealous nature and saw through his tale-bearing, something yet told herthat his picture of young Gardley's wildness was probably true, and hersoul sank within her at the thought. It was just what had come inshadowy, instinctive fear to her heart when he had hinted at his being a"roughneck, " yet to have it put baldly into words by an enemy hurt herdeeply, and she looked at herself in the glass half frightened. "Margaret Earle, have you come out to the wilderness to lose your heartto the first handsome sower of wild oats that you meet?" her true eyesasked her face in the glass, and Margaret Earle's heart turned sad atthe question and shrank back. Then she dropped upon her knees beside hergay little rocking-chair and buried her face in its flowered cushionsand cried to her Father in heaven:

"Oh, my Father, let me not be weak, but with all my heart I cry to Theeto save this young, strong, courageous life and not let it be a failure. Help him to find Thee and serve Thee, and if his life has been allwrong--and I suppose it has--oh, make it right for Jesus' sake! If thereis anything that I can do to help, show me how, and don't let me makemistakes. Oh, Jesus, Thy power is great. Let this young man feel it andyield himself to it. "

She remained silently praying for a moment more, putting her whole soulinto the prayer and knowing that she had been called thus to pray forhim until her prayer was answered. 

She came down to dinner a few minutes later with a calm, serene face, onwhich was no hint of her recent emotion, and she managed to keep thetable conversation wholly in her own hands, telling Mr. Tanner about herhome town and her father and mother. When the meal was finished theminister had no excuse to think that the new teacher was careless abouther friends and associates, and he was well informed about the highprinciples of her family. 

But West had retired into a sulky mood and uttered not a word except toask for more chicken and coffee and a second helping of pie. It was, perhaps, during that dinner that he decided it would be best for him topreach in Ashland on the following Sunday. The young lady could beproperly impressed with his dignity in no other way. 

CHAPTER XII

When Lance Gardley came back to the Tanners' the sun was preparing theglory of its evening setting, and the mountain was robed in all itsrosiest veils. 

Margaret was waiting for him, with the dog Captain beside her, wanderingback and forth in the unfenced dooryard and watching her mountain. Itwas a relief to her to find that the minister occupied a room on thefirst floor in a kind of ell on the opposite side of the house from herown room and her mountain. He had not been visible that afternoon, andwith Captain by her side and Bud on the front-door step reading _The SkyPilot_ she felt comparatively safe. She had read to Bud for an hour anda half, and he was thoroughly interested in the story; but she was surehe would keep the minister away at all costs. As for Captain, he and theminister were sworn enemies by this time. He growled every time Westcame near or spoke to her. 

She made a picture standing with her hand on Captain's shaggy, noblehead, the lace of her sleeve falling back from the white arm, her otherhand raised to shade her face as she looked away to the glorifiedmountain, a slim, white figure looking wistfully off at the sunset. Theyoung man took off his hat and rode his horse more softly, as if in thepresence of the holy. 

The dog lifted one ear, and a tremor passed through his frame as therider drew near; otherwise he did not stir from his position; but it wasenough. The girl turned, on the alert at once, and met him with a smile, and the young man looked at her as if an angel had deigned to smile uponhim. There was a humility in his fine face that sat well with thecourage written there, and smoothed away all hardness for the time, sothat the girl, looking at him in the light of the revelations of themorning, could hardly believe it had been true, yet an inner fineness ofperception taught her that it was. 

The young man dismounted and left his horse standing quietly by theroadside. He would not stay, he said, yet lingered by her side, talkingfor a few minutes, watching the sunset and pointing out its changes. 

She gave him the little package for Mom Wallis. There was a simple lacecollar in a little white box, and a tiny leather-bound book done inrusset suède with gold lettering. 

"Tell her to wear the collar and think of me whenever she dresses up. "

"I'm afraid that'll never be, then, " said the young man, with a pityingsmile. "Mom Wallis never dresses up. "

"Tell her I said she must dress up evenings for supper, and I'll makeher another one to change with that and bring it when I come. "

He smiled upon her again, that wondering, almost worshipful smile, as ifhe wondered if she were real, after all, so different did she seem fromhis idea of girls. 

"And the little book, " she went on, apologetically; "I suppose it wasfoolish to send it, but something she said made me think of some of thelines in the poem. I've marked them for her. She reads, doesn't she?"

"A little, I think. I see her now and then read the papers that Popbrings home with him. I don't fancy her literary range is very wide, however. "

"Of course, I suppose it is ridiculous! And maybe she'll not understandany of it; but tell her I sent her a message. She must see if she canfind it in the poem. Perhaps you can explain it to her. It's Browning's'Rabbi Ben Ezra. ' You know it, don't you?"

"I'm afraid not. I was intent on other things about the time when I wassupposed to be giving my attention to Browning, or I wouldn't be what Iam to-day, I suppose. But I'll do my best with what wits I have. What'sit about? Couldn't you give me a pointer or two?"

"It's the one beginning:

 "Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in His hand Who saith, 'A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!'"

He looked down at her still with that wondering smile. "Grow old alongwith you!" he said, gravely, and then sighed. "You don't look as if youever would grow old. "

"That's it, " she said, eagerly. "That's the whole idea. We don't evergrow old and get done with it all, we just go on to bigger things, wiserand better and more beautiful, till we come to understand and be a partof the whole great plan of God!"

He did not attempt an answer, nor did he smile now, but just looked ather with that deeply quizzical, grave look as if his soul were turningover the matter seriously. She held her peace and waited, unable to findthe right word to speak. Then he turned and looked off, an infiniteregret growing in his face. 

"That makes living a different thing from the way most people take it, "he said, at last, and his tone showed that he was considering it deeply. 

"Does it?" she said, softly, and looked with him toward the sunset, still half seeing his quiet profile against the light. At last it cameto her that she must speak. Half fearfully she began: "I've beenthinking about what you said on the ride. You said you didn't make good. I--wish you would. I--I'm sure you could--"

She looked up wistfully and saw the gentleness come into his face as ifthe fountain of his soul, long sealed, had broken up, and as if he saw apossibility before him for the first time through the words she hadspoken. 

At last he turned to her with that wondering smile again. "Why shouldyou care?" he asked. The words would have sounded harsh if his tone hadnot been so gentle. 

Margaret hesitated for an answer. "I don't know how to tell it, " shesaid, slowly. "There's another verse, a few lines more in that poem, perhaps you know them?--

 'All I never could be, All, men ignored in me, This I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped. '

I want it because--well, perhaps because I feel you are worth all thatto God. I would like to see you be that. "

He looked down at her again, and was still so long that she felt she hadfailed miserably. 

"I hope you will excuse my speaking, " she added. "I--It seems there areso many grand possibilities in life, and for you--I couldn't bear tohave you say you hadn't made good, as if it were all over. "

"I'm glad you spoke, " he said, quickly. "I guess perhaps I have been allkinds of a fool. You have made me feel how many kinds I have been. "

"Oh no!" she protested. 

"You don't know what I have been, " he said, sadly, and then with suddenconviction, as if he read her thoughts: "You _do_ know! That prig of aparson has told you! Well, it's just as well you should know. It'sright!"

A wave of misery passed over his face and erased all its brightness andhope. Even the gentleness was gone. He looked haggard and drawn withhopelessness all in a moment. 

"Do you think it would matter to me--_anything_ that man would say?" sheprotested, all her woman's heart going out in pity. 

"But it was true, all he said, probably, and more--"

"It doesn't matter, " she said, eagerly. "The other is true, too. Just asthe poem says, 'All that man ignores in you, just that you are worth toGod!' And you _can_ be what He meant you to be. I have been praying allthe afternoon that He would help you to be. "

"Have you?" he said, and his eyes lit up again as if the altar-fires ofhope were burning once more. "Have you? I thank you. "

"You came to me when I was lost in the wilderness, " she said, shyly. "Iwanted to help _you_ back--if--I might. "

"You will help--you have!" he said, earnestly. "And I was far enough offthe trail, too, but if there's any way to get back I'll get there. " Hegrasped her hand and held it for a second. "Keep up that praying, " hesaid. "I'll see what can be done. "

Margaret looked up. "Oh, I'm so glad, so glad!"

He looked reverently into her eyes, all the manhood in him stirred tohigher, better things. Then, suddenly, as they stood together, a soundsmote their ears as from another world. 

"Um! Ah!--"

The minister stood within the doorway, barred by Bud in scowlingdefiance, and guarded by Cap, who gave an answering growl. 

Gardley and Margaret looked at each other and smiled, then turned andwalked slowly down to where the pony stood. They did not wish to talkhere in that alien presence. Indeed, it seemed that more words were notneeded--they would be a desecration. 

So he rode away into the sunset once more with just another look and ahand-clasp, and she turned, strangely happy at heart, to go back to herdull surroundings and her uncongenial company. 

"Come, William, let's have a praise service, " she said, brightly, pausing at the doorway, but ignoring the scowling minister. 

"A praise service! What's a praise service?" asked the wondering Bud, shoving over to let her sit down beside him. 

She sat with her back to West, and Cap came and lay at her feet with thewhite of one eye on the minister and a growl ready to gleam between histeeth any minute. There was just no way for the minister to get outunless he jumped over them or went out the back door; but the people inthe doorway had the advantage of not having to look at him, and hecouldn't very well dominate the conversation standing so behind them. 

"Why, a praise service is a service of song and gladness, of course. Yousing, don't you? Of course. Well, what shall we sing? Do you know this?"And she broke softly into song:

 "When peace like a river attendeth my way; When sorrows like sea-billows roll; Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul. "

Bud did not know the song, but he did not intend to be balked with theminister standing right behind him, ready, no doubt, to jump in and takethe precedence; so he growled away at a note in the bass, turning itover and over and trying to make it fit, like a dog gnawing at a barebone; but he managed to keep time and make it sound a little likesinging. 

The dusk was falling fast as they finished the last verse, Margaretsinging the words clear and distinct, Bud growling unintelligibly andsnatching at words he had never heard before. Once more Margaret sang:

 "Abide with me; fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide! When other refuge fails and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!"

Out on the lonely trail wending his way toward the purple mountain--thesilent way to the bunk-house at the camp--in that clear air where soundtravels a long distance the traveler heard the song, and somethingthrilled his soul. A chord that never had been touched in him before wasvibrating, and its echoes would be heard through all his life. 

On and on sang Margaret, just because she could not bear to stop andhear the commonplace talk which would be about her. Song after songthrilled through the night's wideness. The stars came out in thickclusters. Father Tanner had long ago dropped his weekly paper and tiltedhis chair back against the wall, with his eyes half closed to listen, and his wife had settled down comfortably on the carpet sofa, with herhands nicely folded in her lap, as if she were at church. The minister, after silently surveying the situation for a song or two, attempted tojoin his voice to the chorus. He had a voice like a cross-cut saw, buthe didn't do much harm in the background that way, though Cap did growlnow and then, as if it put his nerves on edge. And by and by Mr. Tannerquavered in with a note or two. 

Finally Margaret sang:

 "Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou art near, Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes. "

During this hymn the minister had slipped out the back door and gonearound to the front of the house. He could not stand being in thebackground any longer; but as the last note died away Margaret aroseand, bidding Bud good night, slipped up to her room. 

There, presently, beside her darkened window, with her face toward themountain, she knelt to pray for the wanderer who was trying to find hisway out of the wilderness. 

CHAPTER XIII

Monday morning found Margaret at the school-house nerved for her newtask. 

One by one the scholars trooped in, shyly or half defiantly, hung theirhats on the hooks, put their dinner-pails on the shelf, looked furtivelyat her, and sank into their accustomed seats; that is, the seats theyhad occupied during the last term of school. The big boys remainedoutside until Bud, acting under instructions from Margaret--after shehad been carefully taught the ways of the school by Bud himself--rangthe big bell. Even then they entered reluctantly and as if it were agreat condescension that they came at all, Jed and "Delicate" coming inlast, with scarcely a casual glance toward the teacher's desk, as if shewere a mere fraction in the scheme of the school. She did not need to betold which was Timothy and which was Jed. Bud's description had beenperfect. Her heart, by the way, instantly went out to Timothy. Jed wasanother proposition. He had thick, overhanging eyebrows, and a mouththat loved to make trouble and laugh over it. He was going to be hard toconquer. She wasn't sure the conquering would be interesting, either. 

Margaret stood by the desk, watching them all with a pleasant smile. Shedid not frown at the unnecessary shuffling of feet nor the loud remarksof the boys as they settled into their seats. She just stood and watchedthem interestedly, as though her time had not yet come. 

Jed and Timothy were carrying on a rumbling conversation. Even afterthey took their seats they kept it up. It was no part of their plan tolet the teacher suppose they saw her or minded her in the least. Theywere the dominating influences in that school, and they wanted her toknow it, right at the start; then a lot of trouble would be saved. Ifthey didn't like her and couldn't manage her they didn't intend sheshould stay, and she might as well understand that at once. 

Margaret understood it fully. Yet she stood quietly and watched themwith a look of deep interest on her face and a light almost of mischiefin her eyes, while Bud grew redder and redder over the way his two idolswere treating the new teacher. One by one the school became aware of thetwinkle in the teacher's eyes, and grew silent to watch, and one by onethey began to smile over the coming scene when Jed and Timothy shoulddiscover it, and, worst of all, find out that it was actually directedagainst them. They would expect severity, or fear, or a desire toplacate; but a twinkle--it was more than the school could decide whatwould happen under such circumstances. No one in that room would everdare to laugh at either of those two boys. But the teacher was almostlaughing now, and the twinkle had taken the rest of the room into thesecret, while she waited amusedly until the two should finish theconversation. 

The room grew suddenly deathly still, except for the whispered growls ofJed and Timothy, and still the silence deepened, until the two younggiants themselves perceived that it was time to look up and take accountof stock. 

The perspiration by this time was rolling down the back of Bud's neck. He was about the only one in the room who was not on a broad grin, andhe was wretched. What a fearful mistake the new teacher was making rightat the start! She was antagonizing the two boys who held the wholeschool in their hands. There was no telling what they wouldn't do to hernow. And he would have to stand up for her. Yes, no matter what theydid, he would stand up for her! Even though he lost his best friends, hemust be loyal to her; but the strain was terrible! He did not dare tolook at them, but fastened his eyes upon Margaret, as if keeping themglued there was his only hope. Then suddenly he saw her face break intoone of the sweetest, merriest smiles he ever witnessed, with not onesingle hint of reproach or offended dignity in it, just a smile ofcomradeship, understanding, and pleasure in the meeting; and it wasdirected to the two seats where Jed and Timothy sat. 

With wonder he turned toward the two big boys, and saw, to hisamazement, an answering smile upon their faces; reluctant, 'tis true, half sheepish at first, but a smile with lifted eyebrows of astonishmentand real enjoyment of the joke. 

A little ripple of approval went round in half-breathed syllables, butMargaret gave no time for any restlessness to start. She spoke at once, in her pleasantest partnership tone, such as she had used to Bud whenshe asked him to help her build her bookcase. So she spoke now to thatschool, and each one felt she was speaking just to him especially, andfelt a leaping response in his soul. Here, at least, was something newand interesting, a new kind of teacher. They kept silence to listen. 

"Oh, I'm not going to make a speech now, " she said, and her voicesounded glad to them all. "I'll wait till we know one another before Ido that. I just want to say how do you do to you, and tell you how gladI am to be here. I hope we shall like one another immensely and have agreat many good times together. But we've got to get acquainted first, of course, and perhaps we'd better give most of the time to that to-day. First, suppose we sing something. What shall it be? What do you sing?"

Little Susan Johnson, by virtue of having seen the teacher atSunday-school, made bold to raise her hand and suggest, "Thar-thpangleBanner, pleath!" And so they tried it; but when Margaret found that onlya few seemed to know the words, she said, "Wait!" Lifting her arm with apretty, imperative gesture, and taking a piece of chalk from the box onher desk, she went to the new blackboard that stretched its shiningblack length around the room. 

The school was breathlessly watching the graceful movement of thebeautiful hand and arm over the smooth surface, leaving behind it theclear, perfect script. Such wonderful writing they had never seen; suchperfect, easy curves and twirls. Every eye in the room was fastened onher, every breath was held as they watched and spelled out the words oneby one. "Gee!" said Bud, softly, under his breath, nor knew that he hadspoken, but no one else moved. 

"Now, " she said, "let us sing, " and when they started off againMargaret's strong, clear soprano leading, every voice in the roomgrowled out the words and tried to get in step with the tune. 

They had gone thus through two verses when Jed seemed to think it wasabout time to start something. Things were going altogether too smoothlyfor an untried teacher, if she _was_ handsome and unabashed. If theywent on like this the scholars would lose all respect for him. So, beingquite able to sing a clear tenor, he nevertheless puckered his lipsimpertinently, drew his brows in an ominous frown, and began to whistlea somewhat erratic accompaniment to the song. He watched the teacherclosely, expecting to see the color flame in her cheeks, the anger flashin her eyes; he had tried this trick on other teachers and it alwaysworked. He gave the wink to Timothy, and he too left off his gloriousbass and began to whistle. 

But instead of the anger and annoyance they expected, Margaret turnedappreciative eyes toward the two back seats, nodding her head a trifleand smiling with her eyes as she sang; and when the verse was done sheheld up her hand for silence and said:

"Why, boys, that's beautiful! Let's try that verse once more, and youtwo whistle the accompaniment a little stronger in the chorus; or howwould it do if you just came in on the chorus? I believe that would bemore effective. Let's try the first verse that way; you boys sing duringthe verse and then whistle the chorus just as you did now. We reallyneed your voices in the verse part, they are so strong and splendid. Let's try it now. " And she started off again, the two big astonishedfellows meekly doing as they were told, and really the effect wasbeautiful. What was their surprise when the whole song was finished tohave her say, "Now everybody whistle the chorus softly, " and then puckerup her own soft lips to join in. That completely finished the whistlingstunt. Jed realized that it would never work again, not while she washere, for she had turned the joke into beauty and made them all enjoyit. It hadn't annoyed her in the least. 

Somehow by that time they were all ready for anything she had tosuggest, and they watched again breathlessly as she wrote another songon the blackboard, taking the other side of the room for it, and thistime a hymn--"I Need Thee Every Hour. "

When they began to sing it, however, Margaret found the tune wentslowly, uncertainly. 

"Oh, how we need a piano!" she exclaimed. "I wonder if we can't get upan entertainment and raise money to buy one. How many will help?"

Every hand in the place went up, Jed's and Timothy's last and only alittle way, but she noted with triumph that they went up. 

"All right; we'll do it! Now let's sing that verse correctly. " And shebegan to sing again, while they all joined anxiously in, really tryingto do their best. 

The instant the last verse died away, Margaret's voice took theirattention. 

"Two years ago in Boston two young men, who belonged to a little groupof Christian workers who were going around from place to place holdingmeetings, sat talking together in their room in the hotel one evening. "

There was instant quiet, a kind of a breathless quiet. This was not likethe beginning of any lesson any other teacher had ever given them. Everyeye was fixed on her. 

"They had been talking over the work of the day, and finally one of themsuggested that they choose a Bible verse for the whole year--"

There was a movement of impatience from one back seat, as if Jed hadscented an incipient sermon, but the teacher's voice went steadily on:

"They talked it over, and at last they settled on II Timothy ii:15. Theymade up their minds to use it on every possible occasion. It was time togo to bed, so the man whose room adjoined got up and, instead of sayinggood night, he said, 'Well, II Timothy ii:15, ' and went to his room. Pretty soon, when he put out his light, he knocked on the wall andshouted 'II Timothy ii:15, ' and the other man responded, heartily, 'Allright, II Timothy ii:15. ' The next morning when they wrote their letterseach of them wrote 'II Timothy ii:15' on the lower left-hand corner ofthe envelope, and sent out a great handful of letters to all parts ofthe world. Those letters passed through the Boston post-office, and someof the clerks who sorted them saw that queer legend written down in thelower left-hand corner of the envelope, and they wondered at it, and oneor two wrote it down, to look it up afterward. The letters reachedother cities and were put into the hands of mail-carriers to distribute, and they saw the queer little sentence, 'II Timothy ii:15, ' and theywondered, and some of them looked it up. "

By this time the entire attention of the school was upon the story, forthey perceived that it was a story. 

"The men left Boston and went across the ocean to hold meetings in othercities, and one day at a little railway station in Europe a group ofpeople were gathered, waiting for a train, and those two men were amongthem. Pretty soon the train came, and one of the men got on the back endof the last car, while the other stayed on the platform, and as thetrain moved off the man on the last car took off his hat and said, in agood, loud, clear tone, 'Well, take care of yourself, II Timothy ii:15, 'and the other one smiled and waved his hat and answered, 'Yes, IITimothy ii:15. ' The man on the train, which was moving fast now, shoutedback, 'II Timothy ii:15, ' and the man on the platform responded stilllouder, waving his hat, 'II Timothy ii:15, ' and back and forth the queersentence was flung until the train was too far away for them to heareach other's voices. In the mean time all the people on the platform hadbeen standing there listening and wondering what in the world such astrange salutation could mean. Some of them recognized what it was, butmany did not know, and yet the sentence was said over so many times thatthey could not help remembering it; and some went away to recall it andask their friends what it meant. A young man from America was on thatplatform and heard it, and he knew it stood for a passage in the Bible, and his curiosity was so great that he went back to his boarding-houseand hunted up the Bible his mother had packed in his trunk when he cameaway from home, and he hunted through the Bible until he found theplace, 'II Timothy ii:15, ' and read it; and it made him think about hislife and decide that he wasn't doing as he ought to do. I can't tell youall the story about that queer Bible verse, how it went here and thereand what a great work it did in people's hearts; but one day thoseChristian workers went to Australia to hold some meetings, and onenight, when the great auditorium was crowded, a man who was leading themeeting got up and told the story of this verse, how it had been chosen, and how it had gone over the world in strange ways, even told about themorning at the little railway station when the two men said good-by. Just as he got to that place in his story a man in the audience stood upand said: 'Brother, just let me say a word, please. I never knewanything about all this before, but I was at that railway station, and Iheard those two men shout that strange good-by, and I went home and readthat verse, and it's made a great difference in my life. '

"There was a great deal more to the story, how some Chicago policemengot to be good men through reading that verse, and how the story of theAustralia meetings was printed in an Australian paper and sent to a ladyin America who sent it to a friend in England to read about themeetings. And this friend in England had a son in the army in India, towhom she was sending a package, and she wrapped it around something inthat package, and the young man read all about it, and it helped tochange his life. Well, I thought of that story this morning when I wastrying to decide what to read for our opening chapter, and it occurredto me that perhaps you would be interested to take that verse for ourschool verse this term, and so if you would like it I will put it on theblackboard. Would you like it, I wonder?"

She paused wistfully, as if she expected an answer, and there was a low, almost inaudible growl of assent; a keen listener might almost have saidit had an impatient quality in it, as if they were in a hurry to findout what the verse was that had made such a stir in the world. 

"Very well, " said Margaret, turning to the board; "then I'll put itwhere we all can see it, and while I write it will you please say overwhere it is, so that you will remember it and hunt it up for yourselvesin your Bibles at home?"

There was a sort of snicker at that, for there were probably not half adozen Bibles, if there were so many, represented in that school; butthey took her hint as she wrote, and chanted, "II Timothy ii:15, IITimothy ii:15, " and then spelled out after her rapid crayon, "Study toshow thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to beashamed. "

They read it together at her bidding, with a wondering, half-seriouslook in their faces, and then she said, "Now, shall we pray?"

The former teacher had not opened her school with prayer. It had neverbeen even suggested in that school. It might have been a dangerousexperiment if Margaret had attempted it sooner in her program. As itwas, there was a shuffling of feet in the back seats at her first word;but the room, grew quiet again, perhaps out of curiosity to hear awoman's voice in prayer:

"Our Heavenly Father, we want to ask Thee to bless us in our worktogether, and to help us to be such workmen that we shall not need to beashamed to show our work to Thee at the close of the day. For Christ'ssake we ask it. Amen. "

They did not have time to resent that prayer before she had theminterested in something else. In fact, she had planned her whole firstday out so that there should not be a minute for misbehavior. She hadargued that if she could just get time to become acquainted with themshe might prevent a lot of trouble before it ever started. Her firstbusiness was to win her scholars. After that she could teach them easilyif they were once willing to learn. 

She had a set of mental arithmetic problems ready which she propoundedto them next, some of them difficult and some easy enough for theyoungest child who could think, and she timed their answers and wrote onthe board the names of those who raised their hands first and had thecorrect answers. The questions were put in a fascinating way, many ofthem having curious little catches in them for the scholars who were noton the alert, and Timothy presently discovered this and set himself toget every one, coming off victorious at the end. Even Jed rousedhimself and was interested, and some of the girls quite distinguishedthemselves. 

When a half-hour of this was over she put the word "TRANSFIGURATION" onthe blackboard, and set them to playing a regular game out of it. Ifsome of the school-board had come in just then they might have lifted uphands of horror at the idea of the new teacher setting the whole schoolto playing a game. But they certainly would have been delightfullysurprised to see a quiet and orderly room with bent heads and knitbrows, all intent upon papers and pencils. Never before in the annals ofthat school had the first day held a full period of quiet ororderliness. It was expected to be a day of battle; a day of trying outthe soul of the teacher and proving whether he or she were worthy tocope with the active minds and bodies of the young bullies of Ashland. But the expected battle had been forgotten. Every mind was busy with thematter in hand. 

Margaret had given them three minutes to write as many words as theycould think of, of three letters or more, beginning with T, and usingonly the letters in the word she had put on the board. When time wascalled there was a breathless rush to write a last word, and then eachscholar had to tell how many words he had, and each was called upon toread his list. Some had only two or three, some had ten or eleven. Theywere allowed to mark their words, counting one for each person presentwho did not have that word and doubling if it were two syllables, and soon. Excitement ran high when it was discovered that some had actuallymade a count of thirty or forty, and when they started writing wordsbeginning with R every head was bent intently from the minute time wasstarted. 

Never had three minutes seemed so short to those unused brains, and Jedyelled out: "Aw, gee! I only got three!" when time was called next. 

It was recess-time when they finally finished every letter in that word, and, adding all up, found that Timothy had won the game. Was thatschool? Why, a barbecue couldn't be named beside it for fun! They rushedout to the school-yard with a shout, and the boys played leap-frogloudly for the first few minutes. Margaret, leaning her tired head inher hands, elbows on the window-seat, closing her eyes and gatheringstrength for the after-recess session, heard one boy say: "Wal, how d'yelike 'er?" And the answer came: "Gee! I didn't think she'd be that kindof a guy! I thought she'd be some stiff old Ike! Ain't she a peach, though?" She lifted up her head and laughed triumphantly to herself, hereyes alight, herself now strengthened for the fray. She wasn't whollyfailing, then?

After recess there was a spelling-match, choosing sides, of course, "Because this is only the first day, and we must get acquainted beforewe can do real work, you know, " she explained. 

The spelling-match proved an exciting affair also, with new featuresthat Ashland had never seen before. Here the girls began to shine intoprominence, but there were very few good spellers, and they werepresently reduced to two girls--Rosa Rogers, the beauty of the school, and Amanda Bounds, a stolid, homely girl with deep eyes and a broadbrow. 

"I'm going to give this as a prize to the one who stands up thelongest, " said Margaret, with sudden inspiration as she saw the boys intheir seats getting restless; and she unpinned a tiny blue-silk bow thatfastened her white collar. 

The girls all said "Oh-h-h!" and immediately every one in the roomstraightened up. The next few minutes those two girls spelled for dearlife, each with her eye fixed upon the tiny blue bow in the teacher'swhite hands. To own that bow, that wonderful, strange bow of theheavenly blue, with the graceful twist to the tie! What delight! Thegirl who won that would be the admired of all the school. Even the boyssat up and took notice, each secretly thinking that Rosa, the beauty, would get it, of course. 

But she didn't; she slipped up on the word "receive, " after all, puttingthe i before the e; and her stolid companion, catching her breathawesomely, slowly spelled it right and received the blue prize, pinnedgracefully at the throat of her old brown gingham by the teacher's ownsoft, white fingers, while the school looked on admiringly and the bloodrolled hotly up the back of her neck and spread over her face andforehead. Rosa, the beauty, went crestfallen to her seat. 

It was at noon, while they ate their lunch, that Margaret tried to getacquainted with the girls, calling most of them by name, to their greatsurprise, and hinting of delightful possibilities in the winter's work. Then she slipped out among the boys and watched their sports, laughingand applauding when some one made a particularly fine play, as if shethoroughly understood and appreciated. 

She managed to stand near Jed and Timothy just before Bud rang the bell. "I've heard you are great sportsmen, " she said to them, confidingly. "And I've been wondering if you'll teach me some things I want to learn?I want to know how to ride and shoot. Do you suppose I could learn?"

"Sure!" they chorused, eagerly, their embarrassment forgotten. "Sure, you could learn fine! Sure, _we'll learn_ you!"

And then the bell rang and they all went in. 

The afternoon was a rather informal arrangement of classes and schedulefor the next day, Margaret giving out slips of paper with questions foreach to answer, that she might find out just where to place them; andwhile they wrote she went from one to another, getting acquainted, advising, and suggesting about what they wanted to study. It was all sonew and wonderful to them! They had not been used to caring what theywere to study. Now it almost seemed interesting. 

But when the day was done, the school-house locked, and Bud and Margaretstarted for home, she realized that she was weary. Yet it was aweariness of success and not of failure, and she felt happy in lookingforward to the morrow. 

CHAPTER XIV

The minister had decided to preach in Ashland, and on the followingSabbath. It became apparent that if he wished to have any notice at allfrom the haughty new teacher he must do something at once to establishhis superiority in her eyes. He had carefully gone over his store ofsermons that he always carried with him, and decided to preach on "TheDynamics of Altruism. "

Notices had been posted up in saloons and stores and post-office. He hadmade them himself after completely tabooing Mr. Tanner's kindly andblundering attempt, and they gave full information concerning "the Rev. Frederick West, Ph. D. , of the vicinity of New York City, who had kindlyconsented to preach in the school-house on 'The Dynamics of Altruism. '"

Several of these elaborately printed announcements had been posted up onbig trees along the trails, and in other conspicuous places, and therewas no doubt but that the coming Sabbath services were more talked ofthan anything else in that neighborhood for miles around, except the newteacher and her extraordinary way of making all the scholars fall inlove with her. It is quite possible that the Reverend Frederick mightnot have been so flattered at the size of his audience when the daycame if he could have known how many of them came principally becausethey thought it would be a good opportunity to see the new teacher. 

However, the announcements were read, and the preacher became an objectof deep interest to the community when he went abroad. Under thisattention he swelled, grew pleased, bland, and condescending, wearing anoily smile and bowing most conceitedly whenever anybody noticed him. Heeven began to drop his severity and silence at the table, toward the endof the week, and expanded into dignified conversation, mainly addressedto Mr. Tanner about the political situation in the State of Arizona. Hewas trying to impress the teacher with the fact that he looked upon heras a most insignificant mortal who had forfeited her right to his smilesby her headstrong and unseemly conduct when he had warned her about"that young ruffian. "

Out on the trail Long Bill and Jasper Kemp paused before a tree thatbore the Reverend Frederick's church notice, and read in silence whilethe wide wonder of the desert spread about them. 

"What d'ye make out o' them cuss words, Jap?" asked Long Bill, atlength. "D'ye figger the parson's goin' to preach on swearin' urgunpowder?"

"Blowed ef I know, " answered Jasper, eying the sign ungraciously; "butby the looks of him he can't say much to suit me on neither one. Heresembles a yaller cactus bloom out in a rain-storm as to head, an' hissmile is like some of them prickles on the plant. He can't be no'sky-pilot' to me, not just yet. "

"You don't allow he b'longs in any way to _her_?" asked Long Bill, anxiously, after they had been on their way for a half-hour. 

"B'long to _her_? Meanin' the schoolmarm?"

"Yes; he ain't sweet on her nor nothin'?"

"Wal, I guess not, " said Jasper, contentedly. "She's got eyes sharp's aneedle. You don't size her up so small she's goin' to take to a sicklyparson with yaller hair an' sleek ways when she's seen the Kid, do you?"

"Wal, no, it don't seem noways reasonable, but you never can tell. Womengets notions. "

"She ain't that kind! You mark my words, _she ain't that kind_. I'd layshe'd punch the breeze like a coyote ef he'd make up to her. Just youwait till you see him. He's the most no-'count, measleyest little thingthat ever called himself a man. My word! I'd like to see him try to ridethat colt o' mine. I really would. It would be some sight for sore eyes, it sure would. "

"Mebbe he's got a intellec', " suggested Long Bill, after another mile. "That goes a long ways with women-folks with a education. "

"No chance!" said Jasper, confidently. "'Ain't got room fer one underhis yaller thatch. You wait till you set your lamps on him once beforeyou go to gettin' excited. Why, he ain't one-two-three with ourmissionary! Gosh! I wish _he'd_ come back an' see to such goin's-on--Icertainly do. "

"Was you figgerin' to go to that gatherin' Sunday?"

"I sure was, " said Jasper. "I want to see the show, an', besides, wemight be needed ef things got too high-soundin'. It ain't good to have acreature at large that thinks he knows all there is to know. I heardhim talk down to the post-office the day after that little party we hadwhen the Kid shot out the lights to save Bunchy from killin' Crapster, an' it's my opinion he needs a good spankin'; but I'm agoin' to give hima fair show. I ain't much on religion myself, but I do like to see asquare deal, especially in a parson. I've sized it up he needs alesson. "

"I'm with ye, Jap, " said Long Bill, and the two rode on their way insilence. 

Margaret was so busy and so happy with her school all the week that shequite forgot her annoyance at the minister. She really saw very littleof him, for he was always late to breakfast, and she took hers early. She went to her room immediately after supper, and he had littleopportunity for pursuing her acquaintance. Perhaps he judged that itwould be wise to let her alone until after he had made his grandimpression on Sunday, and let her "make up" to him. 

It was not until Sunday morning that she suddenly recalled that he wasto preach that day. She had indeed seen the notices, for a very largeand elaborate one was posted in front of the school-house, and someanonymous artist had produced a fine caricature of the preacher in redclay underneath his name. Margaret had been obliged to remain afterschool Friday and remove as much of this portrait as she was able, nothaving been willing to make it a matter of discipline to discover theartist. In fact, it was so true to the model that the young teacher felta growing sympathy for the one who had perpetrated it. 

Margaret started to the school-house early Sunday morning, attended bythe faithful Bud. Not that he had any more intention of going toSunday-school than he had the week before, but it was pleasant to be thechosen escort of so popular a teacher. Even Jed and Timothy had walkedhome with her twice during the week. He did not intend to lose his placeas nearest to her. There was only one to whom he would surrender that, and he was too far away to claim it often. 

Margaret had promised to help in the Sunday-school that morning, for thewoman who taught the little ones was still away with her sick neighbor, and on the way she persuaded Bud to help her. 

"You'll be secretary for me, won't you, William?" she asked, brightly. "I'm going to take the left-front corner of the room for the children, and seat them on the recitation-benches, and that will leave all theback part of the room for the older people. Then I can use theblackboard and not disturb the rest. "

"Secretary?" asked the astonished Bud. He was, so to speak, growingaccustomed to surprises. "Secretary" did not sound like being "a nicelittle Sunday-school boy. "

"Why, yes! take up the collection, and see who is absent, and so on. Idon't know all the names, perhaps, and, anyhow, I don't like to do thatwhen I have to teach!"

Artful Margaret! She had no mind to leave Bud floating around outsidethe school-house, and though she had ostensibly prepared her lesson andher blackboard illustration for the little children, she had hidden init a truth for Bud--poor, neglected, devoted Bud!

The inefficient old man who taught the older people that day gatheredhis forces together and, seated with his back to the platform, hisspectacles extended upon his long nose, he proceeded with the questionson the lesson-leaf, as usual, being more than ordinarily unfamiliar withthem; but before he was half through he perceived by the long pausesbetween the questions and answers that he did not have the attention ofhis class. He turned slowly around to see what they were all looking at, and became so engaged in listening to the lesson the new teacher wasdrawing on the blackboard that he completely forgot to go on, until Bud, very important in his new position, rang the tiny desk-bell for theclose of school, and Margaret, looking up, saw in dismay that she hadbeen teaching the whole school. 

While they were singing a closing hymn the room began to fill up, andpresently came the minister, walking importantly beside Mr. Tanner, hischin flattened upward as usual, but bent in till it made a double rollover his collar, his eyes rolling importantly, showing much of theirwhites, his sermon, in an elaborate leather cover, carried conspicuouslyunder his arm, and the severest of clerical coats and collars settingout his insignificant face. 

Walking behind him in single file, measured step, just so far apart, came the eight men from the bunk-house--Long Bill, Big Jim, FiddlingBoss, Jasper Kemp, Fade-away Forbes, Stocky, Croaker, and Fudge; andbehind them, looking like a scared rabbit, Mom Wallis scuttled into theback seat and sank out of sight. The eight men, however, rangedthemselves across the front of the room on the recitation-bench, directly in front of the platform, removing a few small children forthat purpose. 

They had been lined up in a scowling row along the path as the ministerentered, looking at them askance under his aristocratic yellow eyebrows, and as he neared the door the last man followed in his wake, then thenext, and so on. 

Margaret, in her seat half-way back at the side of the school-house neara window, saw through the trees a wide sombrero over a pair of broadshoulders; but, though she kept close watch, she did not see her friendof the wilderness enter the school-house. If he had really come tomeeting, he was staying outside. 

The minister was rather nonplussed at first that there were nohymn-books. It almost seemed that he did not know how to go on withdivine service without hymn-books, but at last he compromised on thelong-meter Doxology, pronounced with deliberate unction. Then, lookingabout for a possible pipe-organ and choir, he finally started ithimself; but it is doubtful whether any one would have recognized thetune enough to help it on if Margaret had not for very shame's saketaken it up and carried it along, and so they came to the prayer andBible-reading. 

These were performed with a formal, perfunctory style calculated toimpress the audience with the importance of the preacher rather than thewords he was speaking. The audience was very quiet, having the air ofreserving judgment for the sermon. 

Margaret could not just remember afterward how it was she missed thetext. She had turned her eyes away from the minister, because it somehowmade her feel homesick to compare him with her dear, dignified father. Her mind had wandered, perhaps, to the sombrero she had glimpsedoutside, and she was wondering how its owner was coming on with hisresolves, and just what change they would mean in his life, anyway. Thensuddenly she awoke to the fact that the sermon had begun. 

CHAPTER XV

"Considered in the world of physics, " began the lordly tones of theReverend Frederick, "dynamics is that branch of mechanics that treats ofthe effects of forces in producing motion, and of the laws of motionthus produced; sometimes called kinetics, opposed to statics. It is thescience that treats of the laws of force, whether producing equilibriumor motion; in this sense including both statics and kinetics. It is alsoapplied to the forces producing or governing activity or movement of anykind; also the methods of such activity. "

The big words rolled out magnificently over the awed gathering, and theminister flattened his chin and rolled his eyes up at the people in hismost impressive way. 

Margaret's gaze hastily sought the row of rough men on the front seat, sitting with folded arms in an attitude of attention, each man with apair of intelligent eyes under his shaggy brows regarding the preacheras they might have regarded an animal in a zoo. Did they understand whathad been said? It was impossible to tell from their serious faces. 

"Philanthropy has been called the dynamics of Christianity; that is tosay, it is Christianity in action, " went on the preacher. "It is mypurpose this morning to speak upon the dynamics of altruism. Nowaltruism is the theory that inculcates benevolence to others insubordination to self-interest; interested benevolence as opposed todisinterested; also, the practice of this theory. "

He lifted his eyes to the audience once more and nodded his headslightly, as if to emphasize the deep truth he had just given them, andthe battery of keen eyes before him never flinched from his face. Theywere searching him through and through. Margaret wondered if he had nosense of the ridiculous, that he could, to such an audience, pour forthsuch a string of technical definitions. They sounded strangely likedictionary language. She wondered if anybody present besides herselfknew what the man meant or got any inkling of what his subject was. Surely he would drop to simpler language, now that he had laid out hisplan. 

It never occurred to her that the man was trying to impress _her_ withhis wonderful fluency of language and his marvelous store of wisdom. Onand on he went in much the same trend he had begun, with now and then aflowery sentence or whole paragraph of meaningless eloquence about the"brotherhood of man"--with a roll to the r's in brotherhood. 

Fifteen minutes of this profitless oratory those men of the wildernessendured, stolidly and with fixed attention; then, suddenly, a sentenceof unusual simplicity struck them and an almost visible thrill went downthe front seat. 

"For years the church has preached a dead faith, without works, myfriends, and the time has come to stop preaching faith! I repeatit--fellow-men. I repeat it. The time has come _to stop preachingfaith_ and begin to do good works!" He thumped the desk vehemently. "Mendon't need a superstitious belief in a Saviour to save them from theirsins; they need to go to work and save themselves! As if a man dying twothousand years ago on a cross could do any good to you and me to-day!"

It was then that the thrill passed down that front line, and Long Bill, sitting at their head, leaned slightly forward and looked full andfrowning into the face of Jasper Kemp; and the latter, frowning back, solemnly winked one eye. Margaret sat where she could see the wholething. 

Immediately, still with studied gravity, Long Bill cleared his throatimpressively, arose, and, giving the minister a full look in the eye, ofthe nature almost of a challenge, he turned and walked slowly, noisilydown the aisle and out the front door. 

The minister was visibly annoyed, and for the moment a trifle flustered;but, concluding his remarks had been too deep for the rough creature, hegathered up the thread of his argument and proceeded:

"We need to get to work at our duty toward our fellow-men. We need todown trusts and give the laboring-man a chance. We need to stopinsisting that men shall believe in the inspiration of the entire Bibleand get to work at something practical!"

The impressive pause after this sentence was interrupted by a sharp, rasping sound of Big Jim clearing his throat and shuffling to his feet. He, too, looked the minister full in the face with a searching gaze, shook his head sadly, and walked leisurely down the aisle and out ofthe door. The minister paused again and frowned. This was becomingannoying. 

Margaret sat in startled wonder. Could it be possible that these roughmen were objecting to the sermon from a theological point of view, orwas it just a happening that they had gone out at such pointed moments. She sat back after a minute, telling herself that of course the men mustjust have been weary of the long sentences, which no doubt they couldnot understand. She began to hope that Gardley was not within hearing. It was not probable that many others understood enough to get harm fromthe sermon, but her soul boiled with indignation that a man could goforth and call himself a minister of an evangelical church and yet talksuch terrible heresy. 

Big Jim's steps died slowly away on the clay path outside, and thepreacher resumed his discourse. 

"We have preached long enough of hell and torment. It is time for agospel of love to our brothers. Hell is a superstition of the Dark Ages. _There is no hell!_"

Fiddling Boss turned sharply toward Jasper Kemp, as if waiting for asignal, and Jasper gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. WhereuponFiddling Boss cleared his throat loudly and arose, faced the minister, and marched down the aisle, while Jasper Kemp remained quietly seated asif nothing had happened, a vacancy each side of him. 

By this time the color began to rise in the minister's cheeks. He lookedat the retreating back of Fiddling Boss, and then suspiciously down atthe row of men, but every one of them sat with folded arms and eyesintent upon the sermon, as if their comrades had not left them. Theminister thought he must have been mistaken and took up the brokenthread once more, or tried to, but he had hopelessly lost the place inhis manuscript, and the only clue that offered was a quotation of a poemabout the devil; to be sure, the connection was somewhat abrupt, but heclutched it with his eye gratefully and began reading it dramatically:

 "'Men don't believe in the devil now As their fathers used to do--'"

But he had got no further when a whole clearing-house of throatssounded, and Fade-away Forbes stumbled to his feet frantically, boltingdown the aisle as if he had been sent for. He had not quite reached thedoor when Stocky clumped after him, followed at intervals by Croaker andFudge, and each just as the minister had begun:

"Um! Ah! To resume--"

And now only Jasper Kemp remained of the front-seaters, his fine grayeyes boring through and through the minister as he floundered throughthe remaining portion of his manuscript up to the point where it began, "And finally--" which opened with another poem:

 "'I need no Christ to die for me. '"

The sturdy, gray-haired Scotchman suddenly lowered his folded arms, slapping a hand resoundingly on each knee, bent his shoulders the betterto pull himself to his feet, pressing his weight on his hands till hiselbows were akimbo, uttered a deep sigh and a, "Yes--well--_ah_!"

With that he got to his feet and dragged them slowly out of theschool-house. 

By this time the minister was ready to burst with indignation. Neverbefore in all the bombastic days of his egotism had he been so grosslyinsulted, and by such rude creatures! And yet there was really nothingthat could be said or done. These men appeared to be simple creatureswho had wandered in idly, perhaps for a few moments' amusement, and, finding the discourse above their caliber, had innocently wandered outagain. That was the way it had been made to appear. But his plans hadbeen cruelly upset by such actions, and he was mortified in the extreme. His face was purple with his emotions, and he struggled and splutteredfor a way out of his trying dilemma. At last he spoke, and his voice wasabsurdly dignified:

"Is there--ah--any other--ah--auditor--ah--who is desirous ofwithdrawing before the close of service? If so he may do so now, or--ah--" He paused for a suitable ending, and familiar words rushed tohis lips without consciousness for the moment of their meaning--"orforever after hold their peace--ah!"

There was a deathly silence in the school-house. No one offered to goout, and Margaret suddenly turned her head and looked out of the window. Her emotions were almost beyond her control. 

Thus the closing eloquence proceeded to its finish, and at last theservice was over. Margaret looked about for Mom Wallis, but she haddisappeared. She signed to Bud, and together they hastened out; but aquiet Sabbath peace reigned about the door of the school-house, and nota man from the camp was in sight; no, nor even the horses upon whichthey had come. 

And yet, when the minister had finished shaking hands with theworshipful women and a few men and children, and came with Mr. Tanner tothe door of the school-house, those eight men stood in a solemn row, four on each side of the walk, each holding his chin in his right hand, his right elbow in his left hand, and all eyes on Jasper Kemp, who kepthis eyes thoughtfully up in the sky. 

"H'w aire yeh, Tanner? Pleasant 'casion. Mind steppin' on a bit? We menwanta have a word with the parson. "

Mr. Tanner stepped on hurriedly, and the minister was left standingnonplussed and alone in the doorway of the school-house. 

CHAPTER XVI

"Um! Ah!" began the minister, trying to summon his best clerical mannerto meet--what? He did not know. It was best to assume they were apenitent band of inquirers for the truth. But the memory of their recentexodus from the service was rather too clearly in his mind for hispleasantest expression to be uppermost toward these rough creatures. Insolent fellows! He ought to give them a good lesson in behavior!

"Um! Ah!" he began again, but found to his surprise that his remarksthus far had had no effect whatever on the eight stolid countenancesbefore him. In fact, they seemed to have grown grim and menacing even intheir quiet attitude, and their eyes were fulfilling the promise of thelook they had given him when they left the service. 

"What does all this mean, anyway?" he burst forth, suddenly. 

"Calm yourself, elder! Calm yourself, " spoke up Long Bill. "There ain'tany occasion to get excited. "

"I'm not an elder; I'm a minister of the gospel, " exploded West, in hismost pompous tones. "I should like to know who you are and what all thismeans?"

"Yes, parson, we understand who you are. We understand quite well, an'we're agoin' to tell you who we are. We're a band of al-tru-ists! That'swhat we are. We're _altruists_!" It was Jasper Kemp of the keen eyes andsturdy countenance who spoke. "And we've come here in brotherly love toexercise a little of that dynamic force of altruism you was talkin'about. We just thought we'd begin on you so's you could see that we gotsome works to go 'long with our faith. "

"What do you mean, sir?" said West, looking from one grim countenance toanother. "I--I don't quite understand. " The minister was beginning to befrightened, he couldn't exactly tell why. He wished he had kept BrotherTanner with him. It was the first time he had ever thought of Mr. Tanneras "brother. "

"We mean just this, parson; you been talkin' a lot of lies in thereabout there bein' no Saviour an' no hell, ner no devil, an' while weain't much credit to God ourselves, bein' just common men, we know allthat stuff you said ain't true about the Bible an' the devil bein'superstitions, an' we thought we better exercise a little of that therealtruism you was talkin' about an' teach you better. You see, it's realbrotherly kindness, parson. An' now we're goin' to give you a sample ofthat dynamics you spoke about. Are you ready, boys?"

"All ready, " they cried as one man. 

There seemed to be no concerted motion, nor was there warning. Swifterthan the weaver's shuttle, sudden as the lightning's flash, the ministerwas caught from where he stood pompously in that doorway, hat in hand, all grandly as he was attired, and hurled from man to man. Across thewalk and back; across and back; across and back; until it seemed to himit was a thousand miles all in a minute of time. He had no opportunityto prepare for the onslaught. He jammed his high silk hat, wherewith hehad thought to overawe the community, upon his sleek head, and graspedhis precious sermon-case to his breast; the sermon, as it well deserved, was flung to the four winds of heaven and fortunately was no more--thatis, existing as a whole. The time came when each of those eight menrecovered and retained a portion of that learned oration, and MomWallis, not quite understanding, pinned up and used as a sort of shrinethe portion about doubting the devil; but as a sermon the parts werenever assembled on this earth, nor could be, for some of it was groundto powder under eight pairs of ponderous heels. But the minister at thattrying moment was too much otherwise engaged to notice that the child ofhis brain lay scattered on the ground. 

Seven times he made the round up and down, up and down that mercilessgroup, tossed like a thistle-down from man to man. And at last, when hisbreath was gone, when the world had grown black before him, and he feltsmaller and more inadequate than he had ever felt in his whole conceitedlife before, he found himself bound, helplessly bound, and castignominiously into a wagon. And it was a strange thing that, thoughseemingly but five short minutes before the place had been swarming withworshipful admirers thanking him for his sermon, now there did not seemto be a creature within hearing, for he called and cried aloud androared with his raucous voice until it would seem that all thesurrounding States might have heard that cry from Arizona, yet none cameto his relief. 

They carried him away somewhere, he did not know where; it was a lonelyspot and near a water-hole. When he protested and loudly blamed them, threatening all the law in the land upon them, they regarded him as onemight a naughty child who needed chastisement, leniently and withsorrow, but also with determination. 

They took him down by the water's side and stood him up among them. Hebegan to tremble with fear as he looked from one to another, for he wasnot a man of courage, and he had heard strange tales of this wild, freeland, where every man was a law unto himself. Were they going to drownhim then and there? Then up spoke Jasper Kemp:

"Mr. Parson, " he said, and his voice was kind but firm; one might almostsay there was a hint of humor in it, and there surely was a twinkle inhis eye; but the sternness of his lips belied it, and the minister wasin no state to appreciate humor--"Mr. Parson, we've brought you here todo you good, an' you oughtn't to complain. This is altruism, an' we'rebut actin' out what you been preachin'. You're our brother an' we'retryin' to do you good; an' now we're about to show you what a dynamicforce we are. You see, Mr. Parson, I was brought up by a good Scotchgrandmother, an' I know a lie when I hear it, an' when I hear a manpreach error I know it's time to set him straight; so now we're agoin'to set you straight. I don't know where you come from, nor who brang youup, nor what church set you afloat, but I know enough by all mygrandmother taught me--even if I hadn't been a-listenin' off and on fortwo years back to Mr. Brownleigh, our missionary--to know you're adangerous man to have at large. I'd as soon have a mad dog let loose. Why, what you preach ain't the gospel, an' it ain't the truth, and thetime has come for you to know it, an' own it and recant. Recant! That'swhat they call it. That's what we're here to see 't you do, or we'llknow the reason why. That's the _dynamics_ of it. See?"

The minister saw. He saw the deep, muddy water-hole. He saw nothingmore. 

"Folks are all too ready to believe them there things you was gettin'off without havin' 'em _preached_ to justify 'em in their evil ways. Wegotta think of those poor ignorant brothers of ours that might listen toyou. See? That's the _altruism_ of it!"

"What do you want me to do?" The wretched man's tone was not merelyhumble--it was abject. His grand Prince Albert coat was torn in threeplaces; one tail hung down dejectedly over his hip; one sleeve wasripped half-way out. His collar was unbuttoned and the ends rode uphilariously over his cheeks. His necktie was gone. His sleek hair stuckout in damp wisps about his frightened eyes, and his hat had been "stovein" and jammed down as far as it would go until his ample ears stuck outlike sails at half-mast. His feet were imbedded in the heavy mud on themargin of the water-hole, and his fine silk socks, which had showed atone time above the erstwhile neat tyings, were torn and covered withmud. 

"Well, in the first place, " said Jasper Kemp, with a slow wink around atthe company, "that little matter about hell needs adjustin'. Hell ain'tno superstition. I ain't dictatin' what kind of a hell there is; you canmake it fire or water or anything else you like, but _there is a hell_, an' _you believe in it_. D'ye understand? We'd just like to have youmake that statement publicly right here an' now. "

"But how can I say what I don't believe?" whined West, almost ready tocry. He had come proudly through a trial by Presbytery on these verysame points, and had posed as being a man who had the courage of hisconvictions. He could not thus easily surrender his pride of originalthought and broad-mindedness. He had received congratulations from anumber of noble martyrs who had left their chosen church for just suchreasons, congratulating him on his brave stand. It had been the firstnotice from big men he had ever been able to attract to himself, and ithad gone to his head like wine. Give that up for a few miserablecowboys! It might get into the papers and go back East. He must think ofhis reputation. 

"That's just where the dynamics of the thing comes in, brother, " saidJasper Kemp, patronizingly. "We're here to _make_ you believe in a hell. We're the force that will bring you back into the right way of thinkin'again. Are you ready, boys?"

The quiet utterance brought goose-flesh up to West's very ears, and hiseyes bulged with horror. 

"Oh, that isn't necessary! I believe--yes, I believe in hell!" heshouted, as they seized him. 

But it was too late. The Rev. Frederick West was plunged into thewater-hole, from whose sheep-muddied waters he came up spluttering, "Yes, I believe in _hell_!" and for the first time in his life, perhaps, he really did believe in it, and thought that he was in it. 

The men were standing knee-deep in the water and holding their captivelightly by his arms and legs, their eyes upon their leader, waiting now. 

Jasper Kemp stood in the water, also, looking down benevolently upon hisvictim, his chin in his hand, his elbow in his other hand, an attitudewhich carried a feeling of hopelessness to the frightened minister. 

"An' now there's that little matter of the devil, " said Jasper Kemp, reflectively. "We'll just fix that up next while we're near his place ofresidence. You believe in the devil, Mr. Parson, from now on? If you'dever tried resistin' him I figger you'd have b'lieved in him long ago. But _you believe in him_ from _now on_, an' you _don't preach againsthim any more_! We're not goin' to have our Arizona men gettin' off theirguard an' thinkin' their enemy is dead. There _is_ a devil, parson, andyou believe in him! Duck him, boys!"

Down went the minister into the water again, and came up spluttering, "Yes, I--I--I--believe--in-the--devil. " Even in this strait he was loathto surrender his pet theme--no devil. 

"Very well, so far as it goes, " said Jasper Kemp, thoughtfully. "Butnow, boys, we're comin' to the most important of all, and you betterput him under about three times, for there mustn't be no mistake aboutthis matter. You believe in the Bible, parson--_the whole Bible_?"

"Yes!" gasped West, as he went down the first time and got a mouthful ofthe bitter water, "I believe--" The voice was fairly anguished. Down hewent again. Another mouthful of water. "_I believe in the whole Bible!_"he screamed, and went down the third time. His voice was growing weaker, but he came up and reiterated it without request, and was lifted outupon the mud for a brief respite. The men of the bunk-house weresucceeding better than the Presbytery back in the East had been able todo. The conceit was no longer visible in the face of the ReverendFrederick. His teeth were chattering, and he was beginning to see onereally needed to believe in something when one came as near to his endas this. 

"There's just one more thing to reckon with, " said Jasper Kemp, thoughtfully. "That line of talk you was handin' out about a man dyin'on a cross two thousand years ago bein' nothin' to you. You said you_an' me_, but you can speak for _yourself_. We may not be much to lookat, but we ain't goin' to stand for no such slander as that. Ourmissionary preaches all about that Man on the Cross, an' if you don'tneed Him before you get through this little campaign of life I'll missmy guess. Mebbe we haven't been all we might have been, but we ain'tagoin' to let you ner no one else go back on that there Cross!"

Jasper Kemp's tone was tender and solemn. As the minister lay pantingupon his back in the mud he was forced to acknowledge that at only twoother times in his life had a tone of voice so arrested his attentionand filled him with awe; once when as a boy he had been caught copyingoff another's paper at examination-time, and he had been sent to theprincipal's office; and again on the occasion of his mother's funeral, as he sat in the dim church a few years ago and listened to the oldminister. For a moment now he was impressed with the wonder of theCross, and it suddenly seemed as if he were being arraigned before theeyes of Him with Whom we all have to do. A kind of shame stole into hispale, flabby face, all the smugness and complacence gone, and he a poorwretch in the hands of his accusers. Jasper Kemp, standing over him onthe bank, looking down grimly upon him, seemed like the emissary of Godsent to condemn him, and his little, self-centered soul quailed withinhim. 

"Along near the end of that discourse of yours you mentioned that sinwas only misplaced energy. Well, if that's so there's a heap of yourenergy gone astray this mornin', an' the time has come for you to payup. Speak up now an' say what you believe or whether you want anotherduckin'--an' it'll be seven times this time!"

The man on the ground shut his eyes and gasped. The silence was verysolemn. There seemed no hint of the ridiculous in the situation. It wasserious business now to all those men. Their eyes were on their leader. 

"Do you solemnly declare before God--I s'pose you still believe in aGod, as you didn't say nothin' to the contrary--that from now on you'llstand for that there Cross and for Him that hung on it?"

The minister opened his eyes and looked up into the wide brightness ofthe sky, as if he half expected to see horses and chariots of firestanding about to do battle with him then and there, and his voice wasawed and frightened as he said:

"I do!"

There was silence, and the men stood with half-bowed heads, as if somesolemn service were being performed that they did not quite understand, but in which they fully sympathized. Then Jasper Kemp said, softly:

"Amen!" And after a pause: "I ain't any sort of a Christian myself, butI just can't stand it to see a parson floatin' round that don't evenknow the name of the firm he's workin' for. Now, parson, there's justone more requirement, an' then you can go home. "

The minister opened his eyes and looked around with a frightened appeal, but no one moved, and Jasper Kemp went on:

"You say you had a church in New York. What was the name and addressof your workin'-boss up there?"

"What do you mean? I hadn't any boss. "

"Why, him that hired you an' paid you. The chief elder or whatever youcalled him. "

"Oh!" The minister's tone expressed lack of interest in the subject, buthe answered, languidly, "Ezekiel Newbold, Hazelton. "

"Very good. Now, parson, you'll just kindly write two copies of a letterto Mr. Ezekiel Newbold statin' what you've just said to us concernin'your change of faith, sign your name, address one to Mr. Newbold, an'give the duplicate to me. We just want this little matter put on recordso you can't change your mind any in future. Do you get my idea?"

"Yes, " said the minister, dispiritedly. 

"Will you do it?"

"Yes, " apathetically. 

"Well, now I got a piece of advice for you. It would be just as well foryour health for you to leave Arizona about as quick as you can find itconvenient to pack, but you won't be allowed to leave this town, day ornight, cars or afoot, until them there letters are all O. K. Do you getme?"

"Yes, " pathetically. 

"I might add, by way of explainin', that if you had come to Arizona an'minded your own business you wouldn't have been interfered with. Youmighta preached whatever bosh you darned pleased so far as we wasconcerned, only you wouldn't have had no sorta audience after the firsttry of that stuff you give to-day. But when you come to Arizona an' putyour fingers in other folks' pie, when you tried to 'squeal' on theyoung gentleman who was keen enough to shoot out the lights to save aman's life, why, we 'ain't no further use for you. In the first place, you was all wrong. You thought the Kid shot out the lights to steal thegamin'-money; but he didn't. He put it all in the hands of the sheriffsome hours before your 'private information' reached him through themail. You thought you were awful sharp, you little sneak! But I wasn'tthe only man present who saw you put your foot out an' cover a goldpiece that rolled on the floor just when the fight began. You thoughtnobody was a-lookin', but you'll favor us, please, with that identicalgold piece along with the letter before you leave. Well, boys, that'llbe about all, then. Untie him!"

In silence and with a kind of contemptuous pity in their faces thestrong men stooped and unbound him; then, without another word, theyleft him, tramping solemnly away single file to their horses, standingat a little distance. 

Jasper Kemp lingered for a moment, looking down at the wretched man. "Would you care to have us carry you back to the house?" he asked, reflectively. 

"No!" said the minister, bitterly. "No!" And without another word JasperKemp left him. 

Into the mesquite-bushes crept the minister, his glory all departed, andhid his misery from the light, groaning in bitterness of spirit. He whohad made the hearts of a score of old ministers to sorrow for Zion, whohad split in two a pleasantly united congregation, disrupted a session, and brought about a scandalous trial in Presbytery was at lastconquered. The Rev. Frederick West had recanted!

CHAPTER XVII

When Margaret left the school-house with Bud she had walked but a fewsteps when she remembered Mom Wallis and turned back to search for her;but nowhere could she find a trace of her, and the front of theschool-house was as empty of any people from the camp as if they had notbeen there that morning. The curtain had not yet risen for the scene ofthe undoing of West. 

"I suppose she must have gone home with them, " said the girl, wistfully. "I'm sorry not to have spoken with her. She was good to me. "

"You mean Mom Wallis?" said the boy. "No, she ain't gone home. She'shiking 'long to our house to see you. The Kid went along of her. See, there--down by those cottonwood-trees? That's them. "

Margaret turned with eagerness and hurried along with Bud now. She knewwho it was they called the Kid in that tone of voice. It was the way themen had spoken of and to him, a mingling of respect and gentling thatshowed how much beloved he was. Her cheeks wore a heightened color, andher heart gave a pleasant flutter of interest. 

They walked rapidly and caught up with their guests before they hadreached the Tanner house, and Margaret had the pleasure of seeing MomWallis's face flush with shy delight when she caught her softly roundthe waist, stealing quietly up behind, and greeted her with a kiss. There had not been many kisses for Mom Wallis in the later years, andthe two that were to Margaret Earle's account seemed very sweet to her. Mom Wallis's eyes shone as if she had been a young girl as she turnedwith a smothered "Oh!" She was a woman not given to expressing herself;indeed, it might be said that the last twenty years of her life had beenmainly of self-repression. She gave that one little gasp of recognitionand pleasure, and then she relapsed into embarrassed silence beside thetwo young people who found pleasure in their own greetings. Bud, boy-like, was after a cottontail, along with Cap, who had appeared fromno one knew where and was attending the party joyously. 

Mom Wallis, in her big, rough shoes, on the heels of which her scantbrown calico gown was lifted as she walked, trudged shyly along betweenthe two young people, as carefully watched and helped over the humps andbumps of the way as if she had been a princess. Margaret noticed with ahappy approval how Gardley's hand was ready under the old woman's elbowto assist her as politely as he might have done for her own mother hadshe been walking by his side. 

Presently Bud and Cap returned, and Bud, with observant eye, soon timedhis step to Margaret's on her other side and touched her elbow lightlyto help her over the next rut. This was his second lesson in mannersfrom Gardley. He had his first the Sunday before, watching the twowhile he and Cap walked behind. Bud was learning. He had keen eyes andan alert brain. Margaret smiled understandingly at him, and his facegrew deep red with pleasure. 

"He was bringin' me to see where you was livin', " explained Mom Wallis, suddenly, nodding toward Gardley as if he had been a king. "We wasn'thopin' to see you, except mebbe just as you come by goin' in. "

"Oh, then I'm so glad I caught up with you in time. I wouldn't havemissed you for anything. I went back to look for you. Now you're comingin to dinner with me, both of you, " declared Margaret, joyfully. "William, your mother will have enough dinner for us all, won't she?"

"Sure!" said Bud, with that assurance born of his life acquaintance withhis mother, who had never failed him in a trying situation so far asthings to eat were concerned. 

Margaret looked happily from one of her invited guests to the other, andGardley forgot to answer for himself in watching the brightness of herface, and wondering why it was so different from the faces of all othergirls he knew anywhere. 

But Mom Wallis was overwhelmed. A wave of red rolled dully up from herwithered neck in its gala collar over her leathery face to the roots ofher thin, gray hair. 

"Me! Stay to dinner! Oh, I couldn't do that nohow! Not in these hereclo'es. 'Course I got that pretty collar you give me, but I couldn'tnever go out to dinner in this old dress an' these shoes. I know whatfolks ought to look like an' I ain't goin' to shame you. "

"Shame me? Nonsense! Your dress is all right, and who is going to seeyour shoes? Besides, I've just set my heart on it. I want to take you upto my room and show you the pictures of my father and mother and homeand the church where I was christened, and everything. "

Mom Wallis looked at her with wistful eyes, but still shook her head. "Oh, I'd like to mighty well. It's good of you to ast me. But Icouldn't. I just couldn't. 'Sides, I gotta go home an' git the men'sgrub ready. "

"Oh, can't she stay this time, Mr. Gardley?" appealed Margaret. "The menwon't mind for once, will they?"

Gardley looked into her true eyes and saw she really meant theinvitation. He turned to the withered old woman by his side. "Mom, we'regoing to stay, " he declared, joyously. "She wants us, and we have to dowhatever she says. The men will rub along. They all know how to cook. Mom, _we're going to stay_. "

"That's beautiful!" declared Margaret. "It's so nice to have somecompany of my own. " Then her face suddenly sobered. "Mr. Wallis won'tmind, will he?" And she looked with troubled eyes from one of her gueststo the other. She did not want to prepare trouble for poor Mom Walliswhen she went back. 

Mom Wallis turned startled eyes toward her. There was contempt in herface and outraged womanhood. "Pop's gone off, " she said, significantly. "He went yist'day. But he 'ain't got no call t' mind. I ben waitin' onPop nigh on to twenty year, an' I guess I'm goin' to a dinner-party, now't I'm invited. Pop 'd better _not_ mind, I guess!"

And Margaret suddenly saw how much, how very much, her invitation hadbeen to the starved old soul. Margaret took her guests into the stifflittle parlor and slipped out to interview her landlady. She found Mrs. Tanner, as she had expected, a large-minded woman who was quite pleasedto have more guests to sit down to her generous dinner, particularly asher delightful boarder had hinted of ample recompense in the way ofboard money; and she fluttered about, sending Tanner after another jarof pickles, some more apple-butter, and added another pie to the menu. 

Well pleased, Margaret left Mrs. Tanner and slipped back to her guests. She found Gardley making arrangements with Bud to run back to the churchand tell the men to leave the buckboard for them, as they would not behome for dinner. While this was going on she took Mom Wallis up to herroom to remove her bonnet and smooth her hair. 

It is doubtful whether Mom Wallis ever did see such a room in her life;for when Margaret swung open the door the poor little woman stoppedshort on the threshold, abashed, and caught her breath, looking aroundwith wondering eyes and putting out a trembling hand to steady herselfagainst the door-frame. She wasn't quite sure whether things in thatroom were real, or whether she might not by chance have caught a glimpseinto heaven, so beautiful did it seem to her. It was not till her eyes, in the roving, suddenly rested on the great mountain framed in the openwindow that she felt anchored and sure that this was a tangible place. Then she ventured to step her heavy shoe inside the door. Even then shedrew her ugly calico back apologetically, as if it were a desecration tothe lovely room. 

But Margaret seized her and drew her into the room, placing her gentlyin the rose-ruffled rocking-chair as if it were a throne and she aqueen, and the poor little woman sat entranced, with tears springing toher eyes and trickling down her cheeks. 

Perhaps it was an impossibility for Margaret to conceive what the visionof that room meant to Mom Wallis. The realization of all the dreams of astarved soul concentrated into a small space; the actual, tangible proofthat there might be a heaven some day--who knew?--since beauties andcomforts like these could be real in Arizona. 

Margaret brought the pictures of her father and mother, of her dear homeand the dear old church. She took her about the room and showed her thevarious pictures and reminders of her college days, and when she sawthat the poor creature was overwhelmed and speechless she turned herabout and showed her the great mountain again, like an anchorage for hersoul. 

Mom Wallis looked at everything speechlessly, gasping as her attentionwas turned from one object to another, as if she were unable to risebeyond her excitement; but when she saw the mountain again her tonguewas loosed, and she turned and looked back at the girl wonderingly. 

"Now, ain't it strange! Even that old mounting looks diffrunt--it dolook diffrunt from a room like this. Why, it looks like it got its haircombed an' its best collar on!" And Mom Wallis looked down with prideand patted the simple net ruffle about her withered throat. "Why, itlooks like a picter painted an' hung up on this yere wall, that's whatthat mounting looks like! It kinda ain't no mounting any more; it's jesta picter in your room!"

Margaret smiled. "It is a picture, isn't it? Just look at that silverlight over the purple place. Isn't it wonderful? I like to think it'smine--my mountain. And yet the beautiful thing about it is that it'sjust as much yours, too. It will make a picture of itself framed in yourbunk-house window if you let it. Try it. You just need to let it. "

Mom Wallis looked at her wonderingly. "Do you mean, " she said, studyingthe girl's lovely face, "that ef I should wash them there bunk-housewinders, an' string up some posy caliker, an' stuff a chair, an' have apin-cushion, I could make that there mounting come in an' set fer melike a picter the way it does here fer you?"

"Yes, that's what I mean, " said Margaret, softly, marveling how theuncouth woman had caught the thought. "That's exactly what I mean. God'sgifts will be as much to us as we will let them, always. Try it andsee. "

Mom Wallis stood for some minutes looking out reflectively at themountain. "Wal, mebbe I'll try it!" she said, and turned back to surveythe room again. 

And now the mirror caught her eye, and she saw herself, a strange selfin a soft white collar, and went up to get a nearer view, laying atoil-worn finger on the lace and looking half embarrassed at sight ofher own face. 

"It's a real purty collar, " she said, softly, with a choke in her voice. "It's too purty fer me. I told him so, but he said as how you wanted Ishould dress up every night fer supper in it. It's 'most as strange ashavin' a mounting come an' live with you, to wear a collar likethat--me!"

Margaret's eyes were suddenly bright with tears. Who would havesuspected Mom Wallis of having poetry in her nature? Then, as if herthoughts anticipated the question in Margaret's mind, Mom Wallis wenton:

"He brang me your little book, " she said. "I ain't goin' to say thankyeh, it ain't a big-'nuf word. An' he read me the poetry words it says. I got it wropped in a hankercher on the top o' the beam over my bed. I'mgoin' to have it buried with me when I die. Oh, I _read_ it. I couldn'tmake much out of it, but I read the words thorough. An' then _he_ read'em--the Kid did. He reads just beautiful. He's got education, he has. He read it, and he talked a lot about it. Was this what you mean? Was itthat we ain't really growin' old at all, we're jest goin' on, _gettin_'there, if we go right? Did you mean you think Him as planned it allwanted some old woman right thar in the bunk-house, an' it's _me_? Didyou mean there was agoin' to be a chanct fer me to be young an'beautiful somewheres in creation yit, 'fore I git through?"

The old woman had turned around from looking into the mirror and wasfacing her hostess. Her eyes were very bright; her cheeks had taken onan excited flush, and her knotted hands were clutching the bureau. Shelooked into Margaret's eyes earnestly, as though her very life dependedupon the answer; and Margaret, with a great leap of her heart, smiledand answered:

"Yes, Mrs. Wallis, yes, that is just what I meant. Listen, these areGod's own words about it: 'For I reckon that the sufferings of thispresent time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall berevealed in us. '"

A kind of glory shone in the withered old face now. "Did you say themwas God's words?" she asked in an awed voice. 

"Yes, " said Margaret; "they are in the Bible. "

"But you couldn't be sure it meant _me_?" she asked, eagerly. "Theywouldn't go to put _me_ in the Bible, o' course. "

"Oh yes, you could be quite sure, Mrs. Wallis, " said Margaret, gently. "Because if God was making you and had a plan for you, as the poem says, He would be sure to put down something in His book about it, don't youthink? He would want you to know. "

"It does sound reasonable-like now, don't it?" said the woman, wistfully. "Say them glory words again, won't you?"

Margaret repeated the text slowly and distinctly. 

"Glory!" repeated Mom Wallis, wonderingly. "Glory! Me!" and turnedincredulously toward the glass. She looked a long tune wistfully atherself, as if she could not believe it, and pulled reproachfully atthe tight hair drawn away from her weather-beaten face. "I useta havepurty hair onct, " she said, sadly. 

"Why, you have pretty hair now!" said Margaret, eagerly. "It just wantsa chance to show its beauty, Here, let me fix it for dinner, will you?"

She whisked the bewildered old woman into a chair and began unwindingthe hard, tight knot of hair at the back of her head and shaking it out. The hair was thin and gray now, but it showed signs of having been fineand thick once. 

"It's easy to keep your hair looking pretty, " said the girl, as sheworked. "I'm going to give you a little box of my nice sweet-smellingsoap-powder that I use to shampoo my hair. You take it home and washyour hair with it every two or three weeks and you'll see it will make adifference in a little while. You just haven't taken time to take careof it, that's all. Do you mind if I wave the front here a little? I'dlike to fix your hair the way my mother wears hers. "

Now nothing could have been further apart than this littleweather-beaten old woman and Margaret's gentle, dove-like mother, withher abundant soft gray hair, her cameo features, and her pretty, graydresses; but Margaret had a vision of what glory might bring to MomWallis, and she wanted to help it along. She believed that heavenlyglory can be hastened a good deal on earth if one only tries, and so sheset to work. Glancing out the window, she saw with relief that Gardleywas talking interestedly with Mr. Tanner and seemed entirely contentwith their absence. 

Mom Wallis hadn't any idea what "waving" her hair meant, but she readilyconsented to anything this wonderful girl proposed, and she satentranced, looking at her mountain and thrilling with every touch ofMargaret's satin fingers against her leathery old temples. And so, Sunday though it was, Margaret lighted her little alcohol-lamp andheated a tiny curling-iron which she kept for emergencies. In a fewminutes' time Mom Wallis's astonished old gray locks lay soft and fluffyabout her face, and pinned in a smooth coil behind, instead of the tightknot, making the most wonderful difference in the world in her old, tired face. 

"Now look!" said Margaret, and turned her about to the mirror. "Ifthere's anything at all you don't like about it I can change it, youknow. You don't have to wear it so if you don't like it. "

The old woman looked, and then looked back at Margaret with frightenedeyes, and back to the vision in the mirror again. 

"My soul!" she exclaimed in an awed voice. "My soul! It's come a'ready!Glory! I didn't think I could look like that! I wonder what Pop 'd say!My land! Would you mind ef I kep' it on a while an' wore it back to campthis way? Pop might uv come home an' I'd like to see ef he'd take noticeto it. I used to be purty onct, but I never expected no sech thing likethis again on earth. Glory! Glory! Mebbe I _could_ get some glory, _too_. "

"'The glory that shall be revealed' is a great deal more wonderful thanthis, " said Margaret, gently. "This was here all the time, only youdidn't let it come out. Wear it home that way, of course, and wear itso all the time. It's very little trouble, and you'll find your familywill like it. Men always like to see a woman looking her best, even whenshe's working. It helps to make them good. Before you go home I'll showyou how to fix it. It's quite simple. Come, now, shall we godown-stairs? We don't want to leave Mr. Gardley alone too long, and, besides, I smell the dinner. I think they'll be waiting for us prettysoon. I'm going to take a few of these pictures down to show Mr. Gardley. "

She hastily gathered a few photographs together and led the bewilderedlittle woman down-stairs again, and out in the yard, where Gardley waswalking up and down now, looking off at the mountain. It came toMargaret, suddenly, that the minister would be returning to the housesoon, and she wished he wouldn't come. He would be a false note in thepleasant harmony of the little company. He would be disagreeable tomanage, and perhaps hurt poor Mom Wallis's feelings. Perhaps he hadalready come. She looked furtively around as she came out the door, butno minister was in sight, and then she forgot him utterly in the look ofbewildered astonishment with which Gardley was regarding Mom Wallis. 

He had stopped short in his walk across the little yard, and was staringat Mom Wallis, recognition gradually growing in his gaze. When he wasfully convinced he turned his eyes to Margaret, as if to ask: "How didyou do it? Wonderful woman!" and a look of deep reverence for her cameover his face. 

Then suddenly he noticed the shy embarrassment on the old woman's face, and swiftly came toward her, his hands outstretched, and, taking herbony hands in his, bowed low over them as a courtier might do. 

"Mom Wallis, you are beautiful. Did you know it?" he said, gently, andled her to a little stumpy rocking-chair with a gay red-and-blue ragcushion that Mrs. Tanner always kept sitting by the front door inpleasant weather. Then he stood off and surveyed her, while the redstole into her cheeks becomingly. "What has Miss Earle been doing toglorify you?" he asked, again looking at her earnestly. 

The old woman looked at him in awed silence. There was that wordagain--glory! He had said the girl had glorified her. There was thensome glory in her, and it had been brought out by so simple a thing asthe arrangement of her hair. It frightened her, and tears came and stoodin her tired old eyes. 

It was well for Mom Wallis's equilibrium that Mr. Tanner came out justthen with the paper he had gone after, for the stolidity of her lifetimewas about breaking up. But, as he turned, Gardley gave her one of therarest smiles of sympathy and understanding that a young man can give toan old woman; and Margaret, watching, loved him for it. It seemed to herone of the most beautiful things a young man had ever done. 

They had discussed the article in the paper thoroughly, and had lookedat the photographs that Margaret had brought down; and Mrs. Tanner hadcome to the door numberless times, looking out in a troubled way downthe road, only to trot back again, look in the oven, peep in the kettle, sigh, and trot out to the door again. At last she came and stood, armsakimbo, and looked down the road once more. 

"Pa, I don't just see how I can keep the dinner waitin' a minute longer, The potatoes 'll be sp'iled. I don't see what's keepin' thatpreacher-man. He musta been invited out, though I don't see why hedidn't send me word. "

"That's it, likely, Ma, " said Tanner. He was growing hungry. "I saw Mis'Bacon talkin' to him. She's likely invited him there. She's alwaystryin' to get ahead o' you, Ma, you know, 'cause you got the prize feryour marble cake. "

Mrs. Tanner blushed and looked down apologetically at her guests. "Well, then, ef you'll just come in and set down, I'll dish up. My land! Ain'tthat Bud comin' down the road, Pa? He's likely sent word by Bud. I'llhurry in an' dish up. "

Bud slid into his seat hurriedly after a brief ablution in the kitchen, and his mother questioned him sharply. 

"Bud, wher you be'n? Did the minister get invited out?"

The boy grinned and slowly winked one eye at Gardley. "Yes, he's invitedout, all right, " he said, meaningly. "You don't need to wait fer him. Hewon't be home fer some time, I don't reckon. "

Gardley looked keenly, steadily, at the boy's dancing eyes, and resolvedto have a fuller understanding later, and his own eyes met the boy's ina gleam of mischief and sympathy. 

It was the first time in twenty years that Mom Wallis had eaten anythingwhich she had not prepared herself, and now, with fried chicken andcompany preserves before her, she could scarcely swallow a mouthful. Tobe seated beside Gardley and waited on like a queen! To be smiled at bythe beautiful young girl across the table, and deferred to by Mr. AndMrs. Tanner as "Mrs. Wallis, " and asked to have more pickles and anotherhelping of jelly, and did she take cream and sugar in her coffee! It wastoo much, and Mom Wallis was struggling with the tears. Even Bud'sround, blue eyes regarded her with approval and interest. She couldn'thelp thinking, if her own baby boy had lived, would he ever have beenlike Bud? And once she smiled at him, and Bud smiled back, a realboy-like, frank, hearty grin. It was all like taking dinner in theKingdom of Heaven to Mom Wallis, and getting glory aforetime. 

It was a wonderful afternoon, and seemed to go on swift wings. Gardleywent back to the school-house, where the horses had been left, and Budwent with him to give further particulars about that wink at thedinner-table. Mom Wallis went up to the rose-garlanded room and learnedhow to wash her hair, and received a roll of flowered scrim wherewith tomake curtains for the bunk-house. Margaret had originally intended itfor the school-house windows in case it proved necessary to make thatplace habitable, but the school-room could wait. 

And there in the rose-room, with the new curtains in her tremblinghands, and the great old mountain in full view, Mom Wallis knelt besidethe little gay rocking-chair, while Margaret knelt beside her and prayedthat the Heavenly Father would show Mom Wallis how to let the glory berevealed in her now on the earth. 

Then Mom Wallis wiped the furtive tears away with her calico sleeve, tied on her funny old bonnet, and rode away with her handsome youngescort into the silence of the desert, with the glory beginning to berevealed already in her countenance. 

Quite late that evening the minister returned. 

He came in slowly and wearily, as if every step were a pain to him, andhe avoided the light. His coat was torn and his garments weremud-covered. He murmured of a "slight accident" to Mrs. Tanner, who methim solicitously in a flowered dressing-gown with a candle in her hand. He accepted greedily the half a pie, with cheese and cold chicken andother articles, she proffered on a plate at his door, and in the replyto her query as to where he had been for dinner, and if he had apleasant time, he said:

"Very pleasant, indeed, thank you! The name? Um--ah--I disremember! Ireally didn't ask--That is--"

The minister did not get up to breakfast, In fact, he remained in bedfor several days, professing to be suffering with an attack ofrheumatism. He was solicitously watched over and fed by the anxious Mrs. Tanner, who was much disconcerted at the state of affairs, and couldn'tunderstand why she could not get the school-teacher more interested inthe invalid. 

On the fourth day, however, the Reverend Frederick crept forth, whiteand shaken, with his sleek hair elaborately combed to cover a longscratch on his forehead, and announced his intention of departing fromthe State of Arizona that evening. 

He crept forth cautiously to the station as the shades of evening drewon, but found Long Bill awaiting him, and Jasper Kemp not far away. Hehad the two letters ready in his pocket, with the gold piece, though hehad entertained hopes of escaping without forfeiting them, but he wasobliged to wait patiently until Jasper Kemp had read both lettersthrough twice, with the train in momentary danger of departing withouthim, before he was finally allowed to get on board. Jasper Kemp'sparting word to him was:

"Watch your steps spry, parson. I'm agoin' to see that you're shadowedwherever you go. You needn't think you can get shy on the Bible again. It won't pay. "

There was menace in the dry remark, and the Reverend Frederick'sprofessional egotism withered before it. He bowed his head, climbed onboard the train, and vanished from the scene of his recent discomfiture. But the bitterest thing about it all was that he had gone withoutcapturing the heart or even the attention of that haughty littleschool-teacher. "And she was such a pretty girl, " he said, regretfully, to himself. "Such a _very_ pretty girl!" He sighed deeply to himself ashe watched Arizona speed by the window. "Still, " he reflected, comfortably, after a moment, "there are always plenty more! What wasthat remarkably witty saying I heard just before I left home? 'Never runafter a street-car or a woman. There'll be another one along in aminute. ' Um--ah--yes--very true--there'll be another one along in aminute. "

CHAPTER XVIII

School had settled down to real work by the opening of the new week. Margaret knew her scholars and had gained a personal hold on most ofthem already. There was enough novelty in her teaching to keep theentire school in a pleasant state of excitement and wonder as to whatshe would do next, and the word had gone out through all the countryround about that the new teacher had taken the school by storm. It wasnot infrequent for men to turn out of their way on the trail to get aglimpse of the school as they were passing, just to make sure thereports were true. Rumor stated that the teacher was exceedingly pretty;that she would take no nonsense, not even from the big boys; that shenever threatened nor punished, but that every one of the boys was herdevoted slave. There had been no uprising, and it almost seemed as ifthat popular excitement was to be omitted this season, and school was tosail along in an orderly and proper manner. In fact, the entire schoolas well as the surrounding population were eagerly talking about the newpiano, which seemed really to be a coming fact. Not that there had beenanything done toward it yet, but the teacher had promised that just assoon as every one was really studying hard and doing his best, she wasgoing to begin to get them ready for an entertainment to raise money forthat piano. They couldn't begin until everybody was in good workingorder, because they didn't want to take the interest away from the realbusiness of school; but it was going to be a Shakespeare play, whateverthat was, and therefore of grave import. Some people talked learnedlyabout Shakespeare and hinted of poetry; but the main part of thecommunity spoke the name joyously and familiarly and without awe, as ifit were milk and honey in their mouths. Why should they reverenceShakespeare more than any one else?

Margaret had grown used to seeing a head appear suddenly at one of theschool-room windows and look long and frowningly first at her, then atthe school, and then back to her again, as if it were a nine days'wonder. Whoever the visitor was, he would stand quietly, watching theprocess of the hour as if he were at a play, and Margaret would turn andsmile pleasantly, then go right on with her work. The visitor wouldgenerally take off a wide hat and wave it cordially, smile back acurious, softened smile, and by and by he would mount his horse and passon reflectively down the trail, wishing he could be a boy and go backagain to school--such a school!

Oh, it was not all smooth, the way that Margaret walked. There werehitches, and unpleasant days when nothing went right, and when some ofthe girls got silly and rebellious, and the boys followed in their lead. She had her trials like any teacher, skilful as she was, and not theleast of them became Rosa Rogers, the petted beauty, who presentlymanifested a childish jealousy of her in her influence over the boys. Noting this, Margaret went out of her way to win Rosa, but found it adifficult matter. 

Rosa was proud, selfish, and unprincipled. She never forgave any one whofrustrated her plans. She resented being made to study like the rest. She had always compelled the teacher to let her do as she pleased andstill give her a good report. This she found she could not do withMargaret, and for the first time in her career she was compelled to workor fall behind. It presently became not a question of how the newteacher was to manage the big boys and the bad boys of the Ashland RidgeSchool, but how she was to prevent Rosa Rogers and a few girls whofollowed her from upsetting all her plans. The trouble was, Rosa waspretty and knew her power over the boys. If she chose she could put themall in a state of insubordination, and this she chose very often duringthose first few weeks. 

But there was one visitor who did not confine himself to looking in atthe window. 

One morning a fine black horse came galloping up to the school-house atrecess-time, and a well-set-up young man in wide sombrero and jauntyleather trappings sprang off and came into the building. His shiningspurs caught the sunlight and flashed as he moved. He walked with theair of one who regards himself of far more importance than all who maybe watching him. The boys in the yard stopped their ball-game, and thegirls huddled close in whispering groups and drew near to the door. Hewas a young man from a ranch near the fort some thirty miles away, andhe had brought an invitation for the new school-teacher to come over todinner on Friday evening and stay until the following Monday morning. The invitation was from his sister, the wife of a wealthy cattlemanwhose home and hospitality were noted for miles around. She had heard ofthe coming of the beautiful young teacher, and wanted to attach her toher social circle. 

The young man was deference itself to Margaret, openly admiring her ashe talked, and said the most gracious things to her; and then, while shewas answering the note, he smiled over at Rosa Rogers, who had slippedinto her seat and was studiously preparing her algebra with the bookupside down. 

Margaret, looking up, caught Rosa's smiling glance and the tail end of alook from the young man's eyes, and felt a passing wonder whether he hadever met the girl before. Something in the boldness of his look made herfeel that he had not. Yet he was all smiles and deference to herself, and his open admiration and pleasure that she was to come to helpbrighten this lonely country, and that she was going to accept theinvitation, was really pleasant to the girl, for it was desolate beingtied down to only the Tanner household and the school, and she welcomedany bit of social life. 

The young man had light hair, combed very smooth, and light-blue eyes. They were bolder and handsomer than the minister's, but the girl had afeeling that they were the very same cold color. She wondered at hercomparison, for she liked the handsome young man, and in spite ofherself was a little flattered at the nice things he had said to her. Nevertheless, when she remembered him afterward it was always with thatuncomfortable feeling that if he hadn't been so handsome and polished inhis appearance he would have seemed just a little bit like thatminister, and she couldn't for the life of her tell why. 

After he was gone she looked back at Rosa, and there was a narrowing ofthe girl's eyes and a frown of hate on her brows. Margaret turned with asigh back to her school problem--what to do with Rosa Rogers?

But Rosa did not stay in the school-house. She slipped out and walkedarm in arm with Amanda Bounds down the road. 

Margaret went to the door and watched. Presently she saw the rider wheeland come galloping back to the door. He had forgotten to tell her thatan escort would be sent to bring her as early on Friday afternoon as shewould be ready to leave the school, and he intimated that he hoped hemight be detailed for that pleasant duty. 

Margaret looked into his face and warmed to his pleasant smile. Howcould she have thought him like West? He touched his hat and rode away, and a moment later she saw him draw rein beside Rosa and Amanda, andpresently dismount. 

Bud rang the bell just then, and Margaret went back to her desk with alingering look at the three figures in the distance. It was full half anhour before Rosa came in, with Amanda looking scared behind her; andtroubled Margaret watched the sly look in the girl's eyes and wonderedwhat she ought to do about it. As Rosa was passing out of the door afterschool she called her to the desk. 

"You were late in coming in after recess, Rosa, " said Margaret, gently. "Have you any excuse?"

"I was talking to a friend, " said Rosa, with a toss of her head whichsaid, as plainly as words could have done, "I don't intend to give anexcuse. "

"Were you talking to the gentleman who was here?"

"Well, if I was, what is that to you, Miss Earle?" said Rosa, haughtily. "Did you think you could have all the men and boys to yourself?"

"Rosa, " said Margaret, trying to speak calmly, but her voice tremblingwith suppressed indignation, "don't talk that way to me. Child, did youever meet Mr. Forsythe before?"

"I'm not a child, and it's none of your business!" flouted Rosa, angrily, and she twitched away and flung herself out of theschool-house. 

Margaret, trembling from the disagreeable encounter, stood at the windowand watched the girl going down the road, and felt for the moment thatshe would rather give up her school and go back home than face thesituation. She knew in her heart that this girl, once an enemy, would bea bitter one, and this her last move had been a most unfortunate one, coming out, as it did, with Rosa in the lead. She could, of course, complain to Rosa's family, or to the school-board, but such was not thepolicy she had chosen. She wanted to be able to settle her owndifficulties. It seemed strange that she could not reach this onegirl--who was in a way the key to the situation. Perhaps the play wouldbe able to help her. She spent a long time that evening going over thedifferent plays in her library, and finally, with a look of apologytoward a little photographed head of Shakespeare, she decided on"Midsummer-Night's Dream. " What if it was away above the heads of themall, wouldn't a few get something from it? And wasn't it better to takea great thing and try to make her scholars and a few of the communityunderstand it, rather than to take a silly little play that would notamount to anything in the end? Of course, they couldn't do it well; thatwent without saying. Of course it would be away beyond them all, but atleast it would be a study of something great for her pupils, and shecould meantime teach them a little about Shakespeare and perhaps helpsome of them to learn to love his plays and study them. 

The play she had selected was one in which she herself had acted thepart of Puck, and she knew it by heart. She felt reasonably sure thatshe could help some of the more adaptable scholars to interpret theirparts, and, at least, it would be good for them just as a study inliterature. As for the audience, they would not be critics. Perhaps theywould not even be able to comprehend the meaning of the play, but theywould come and they would listen, and the experiment was one worthtrying. 

Carefully she went over the parts, trying to find the one which shethought would best fit Rosa Rogers, and please her as well, because itgave her opportunity to display her beauty and charm. She really was apretty girl, and would do well. Margaret wondered whether she werealtogether right in attempting to win the girl through her vanity, andyet what other weak place was there in which to storm the silly littlecitadel of her soul?

And so the work of assigning parts and learning them began that veryweek, though no one was allowed a part until his work for the day hadall been handed in. 

At noon Margaret made one more attempt with Rosa Rogers. She drew her toa seat beside her and put aside as much as possible her own remembranceof the girl's disagreeable actions and impudent words. 

"Rosa, " she said, and her voice was very gentle, "I want to have alittle talk with you. You seem to feel that you and I are enemies, and Idon't want you to have that attitude. I hoped we'd be the best offriends. You see, there isn't any other way for us to work welltogether. And I want to explain why I spoke to you as I did yesterday. It was not, as you hinted, that I want to keep all my acquaintances tomyself. I have no desire to do that. It was because I feel responsiblefor the girls and boys in my care, and I was troubled lest perhaps youhad been foolish--"

Margaret paused. She could see by the bright hardness of the girl's eyesthat she was accomplishing nothing. Rosa evidently did not believe her. 

"Well, Rosa, " she said, suddenly, putting an impulsive, kindly hand onthe girl's arm, "suppose we forget it this time, put it all away, and befriends. Let's learn to understand each other if we can, but in themean time I want to talk to you about the play. "

And then, indeed, Rosa's hard manner broke, and she looked up withinterest, albeit there was some suspicion in the glance. She wanted tobe in that play with all her heart; she wanted the very showiest part init, too; and she meant to have it, although she had a strong suspicionthat the teacher would want to keep that part for herself, whatever itwas. 

But Margaret had been wise. She had decided to take time and explain theplay to her, and then let her choose her own part. She wisely judgedthat Rosa would do better in the part in which her interest centered, and perhaps the choice would help her to understand her pupil better. 

And so for an hour she patiently stayed after school and went over theplay, explaining it carefully, and it seemed at one time as though Rosawas about to choose to be Puck, because with quick perception she caughtthe importance of that character; but when she learned that the costumemust be a quiet hood and skirt of green and brown she scorned it, andchose, at last, to be Titania, queen of the fairies. So, with a sigh ofrelief, and a keen insight into the shallow nature, Margaret began toteach the girl some of the fairy steps, and found her quick and eager tolearn. In the first lesson Rosa forgot for a little while her animosityand became almost as one of the other pupils. The play was going toprove a great means of bringing them all together. 

Before Friday afternoon came the parts had all been assigned and theplans for the entertainment were well under way. 

Jed and Timothy had been as good as their word about giving the teacherriding-lessons, each vying with the other to bring a horse and make herride at noon hour, and she had already had several good lessons and along ride or two in company with both her teachers. 

The thirty-mile ride for Friday, then, was not such an undertaking as itmight otherwise have been, and Margaret looked forward to it witheagerness. 

CHAPTER XIX

The little party of escort arrived before school was closed on Fridayafternoon, and came down to the school-house in full force to take heraway with them. The young man Forsythe, with his sister, the hostessherself, and a young army officer from the fort, comprised the party. Margaret dismissed school ten minutes early and went back with them tothe Tanners' to make a hurried change in her dress and pick up hersuit-case, which was already packed. As they rode away from theschool-house Margaret looked back and saw Rosa Rogers posing in one ofher sprite dances in the school-yard, saw her kiss her hand laughinglytoward their party, and saw the flutter of a handkerchief in youngForsythe's hand. It was all very general and elusive, a passing bit offun, but it left an uncomfortable impression on the teacher's mind. Shelooked keenly at the young man as he rode up smiling beside her, andonce more experienced that strange, sudden change of feeling about him. 

She took opportunity during that long ride to find out if the young manhad known Rosa Rogers before; but he frankly told her that he had justcome West to visit his sister, was bored to death because he didn't knowa soul in the whole State, and until he had seen her had not laid eyeson one whom he cared to know. Yet while she could not help enjoying thegay badinage, she carried a sense of uneasiness whenever she thought ofthe young girl Rosa in her pretty fairy pose, with her fluttering pinkfingers and her saucy, smiling eyes. There was something untrustworthy, too, in the handsome face of the man beside her. 

There was just one shadow over this bit of a holiday. Margaret had alittle feeling that possibly some one from the camp might come down onSaturday or Sunday, and she would miss him. Yet nothing had been saidabout it, and she had no way of sending word that she would be away. Shehad meant to send Mom Wallis a letter by the next messenger that camethat way. It was all written and lying on her bureau, but no one hadbeen down all the week. She was, therefore, greatly pleased when anapproaching rider in the distance proved to be Gardley, and with ajoyful little greeting she drew rein and hailed him, giving him amessage for Mom Wallis. 

Only Gardley's eyes told what this meeting was to him. His demeanor wasgrave and dignified. He acknowledged the introductions to the rest ofthe party gracefully, touched his hat with the ease of one to the mannerborn, and rode away, flashing her one gleam of a smile that told her hewas glad of the meeting; but throughout the brief interview there hadbeen an air of question and hostility between the two men, Forsythe andGardley. Forsythe surveyed Gardley rudely, almost insolently, as if hisposition beside the lady gave him rights beyond the other, and heresented the coming of the stranger. Gardley's gaze was cold, too, as hemet the look, and his eyes searched Forsythe's face keenly, as thoughthey would find out what manner of man was riding with his friend. 

When he was gone Margaret had the feeling that he was somehowdisappointed, and once she turned in the saddle and looked wistfullyafter him; but he was riding furiously into the distance, sitting hishorse as straight as an arrow and already far away upon the desert. 

"Your friend is a reckless rider, " said Forsythe, with a sneer in hisvoice that Margaret did not like, as they watched the speck in thedistance clear a steep descent from the mesa at a bound and disappearfrom sight in the mesquite beyond. 

"Isn't he fine-looking? Where did you find him, Miss Earle?" asked Mrs. Temple, eagerly. "I wish I'd asked him to join us. He left so suddenly Ididn't realize he was going. "

Margaret felt a wondering and pleasant sense of possession and pride inGardley as she watched, but she quietly explained that the youngstranger was from the East, and that he was engaged in some kind ofcattle business at a distance from Ashland. Her manner was reserved, andthe matter dropped. She naturally felt a reluctance to tell how heracquaintance with Gardley began. It seemed something between themselves. She could fancy the gushing Mrs. Temple saying, "How romantic!" She wasthat kind of a woman. It was evident that she was romantically inclinedherself, for she used her fine eyes with effect on the young officer whorode with her, and Margaret found herself wondering what kind of ahusband she had and what her mother would think of a woman like this. 

There was no denying that the luxury of the ranch was a happy relieffrom the simplicity of life at the Tanners'. Iced drinks and cushionsand easy-chairs, feasting and music and laughter! There were books, too, and magazines, and all the little things that go to make up a culturedlife; and yet they were not people of Margaret's world, and whenSaturday evening was over she sat alone in the room they had given herand, facing herself in the glass, confessed to herself that she lookedback with more pleasure to the Sabbath spent with Mom Wallis than shecould look forward to a Sabbath here. The morning proved her forebodingswell founded. 

Breakfast was a late, informal affair, filled with hilarious gaiety. There was no mention of any church service, and Margaret found it wasquite too late to suggest such a thing when breakfast was over, even ifshe had been sure there was any service. 

After breakfast was over there were various forms of amusement proposedfor her pleasure, and she really felt very much embarrassed for a fewmoments to know how to avoid what to her was pure Sabbath-breaking. Yetshe did not wish to be rude to these people who were really trying to bekind to her. She managed at last to get them interested in music, and, grouping them around the piano after a few preliminary performances byherself at their earnest solicitation, coaxed them into singing hymns. 

After all, they really seemed to enjoy it, though they had to get alongwith one hymn-book for the whole company; but Margaret knew how to makehymn-singing interesting, and her exquisite voice was never more at itsbest than when she led off with "My Jesus, as Thou Wilt, " or "Jesus, Saviour, Pilot Me. "

"You would be the delight of Mr. Brownleigh's heart, " said the hostess, gushingly, at last, after Margaret had finished singing "Abide With Me"with wonderful feeling. 

"And who is Mr. Brownleigh?" asked Margaret. "Why should I delight hisheart?"

"Why, he is our missionary--that is, the missionary for this region--andyou would delight his heart because you are so religious and sing sowell, " said the superficial little woman. "Mr. Brownleigh is really avery cultured man. Of course, he's narrow. All clergymen are narrow, don't you think? They have to be to a certain extent. He's really_quite_ narrow. Why, he believes in the Bible _literally_, the whale andJonah, and the Flood, and making bread out of stones, and all that sortof thing, you know. Imagine it! But he does. He's sincere! Perfectlysincere. I suppose he has to be. It's his business. But sometimes onefeels it a pity that he can't relax a little, just among us here, youknow. We'd never tell. Why, he won't even play a little game of poker!And he doesn't smoke! _Imagine_ it--_not even when he's by himself_, and_no one would know_! Isn't that odd? But he can preach. He's really veryinteresting; only a little too Utopian in his ideas. He thinks everybodyought to be good, you know, and all that sort of thing. He reallythinks it's possible, and he lives that way himself. He really does. Buthe is a wonderful person; only I feel sorry for his wife sometimes. She's quite a cultured person. Has been wealthy, you know. She was a NewYork society girl. Just imagine it; out in these wilds taking gruel tothe dirty little Indians! How she ever came to do it! Of course sheadores him, but I can't really believe she is happy. No woman could bequite blind enough to give up everything in the world for one man, nomatter how good he was. Do you think she could? It wasn't as if shedidn't have plenty of other chances. She gave them all up to come outand marry him. She's a pretty good sport, too; she never lets you knowshe isn't perfectly happy. "

"She _is_ happy; mother, she's happier than _anybody_ I ever saw, "declared the fourteen-year-old daughter of the house, who was home fromboarding-school for a brief visit during an epidemic of measles in theschool. 

"Oh yes, she manages to make people think she's happy, " said her mother, indulgently; "but you can't make me believe she's satisfied to give upher house on Fifth Avenue and live in a two-roomed log cabin in thedesert, with no society. "

"Mother, you don't know! Why, _any_ woman would be satisfied if herhusband adored her the way Mr. Brownleigh does her. "

"Well, Ada, you're a romantic girl, and Mr. Brownleigh is a handsomeman. You've got a few things to learn yet. Mark my words, I don'tbelieve you'll see Mrs. Brownleigh coming back next month with herhusband. This operation was all well enough to talk about, but I'll notbe surprised to hear that he has come back alone or else that he hasaccepted a call to some big city church. And he's equal to the citychurch, too; that's the wonder of it. He comes of a fine family himself, I've heard. Oh, people can't keep up the pose of saints forever, eventhough they do adore each other. But Mr. Brownleigh _certainly is_ agood man!"

The vapid little woman sat looking reflectively out of the window for awhole minute after this deliverance. Yes, certainly Mr. Brownleigh was agood man. He was the one man of culture, education, refinement, who hadcome her way in many a year who had patiently and persistently andgloriously refused her advances at a mild flirtation, and refused tounderstand them, yet remained her friend and reverenced hero. He was agood man, and she knew it, for she was a very pretty woman andunderstood her art well. 

Before the day was over Margaret had reason to feel that a Sabbath inArizona was a very hard thing to find. The singing could not last allday, and her friends seemed to find more amusements on Sunday that didnot come into Margaret's code of Sabbath-keeping than one knew how tosay no to. Neither could they understand her feeling, and she found ithard not to be rude in gently declining one plan after another. 

She drew the children into a wide, cozy corner after dinner and began aBible story in the guise of a fairy-tale, while the hostess slipped awayto take a nap. However, several other guests lingered about, and Mr. Temple strayed in. They sat with newspapers before their faces and gotinto the story, too, seeming to be deeply interested, so that, afterall, Margaret did not have an unprofitable Sabbath. 

But altogether, though she had a gay and somewhat frivolous time, a gooddeal of admiration and many invitations to return as often as possible, Margaret was not sorry when she said good night to know that she was toreturn in the early morning to her work. 

Mr. Temple himself was going part way with them, accompanied by hisniece, Forsythe, and the young officer who came over with them. Margaretrode beside Mr. Temple until his way parted from theirs, and had adelightful talk about Arizona. He was a kindly old fellow who adored hisfrivolous little wife and let her go her own gait, seeming not to mindhow much she flirted. 

The morning was pink and silver, gold and azure, a wonderful specimen ofan Arizona sunrise for Margaret's benefit, and a glorious beginning forher day's work in spite of the extremely early hour. The company was gayand blithe, and the Eastern girl felt as if she were passing through awonderful experience. 

They loitered a little on the way to show Margaret the wonders of afern-plumed cañon, and it was almost school-time when they came up thestreet, so that Margaret rode straight to the school-house instead ofstopping at Tanners'. On the way to the school they passed a group ofgirls, of whom Rosa Rogers was the center. A certain something in Rosa'snarrowed eyelids as she said good morning caused Margaret to look backuneasily, and she distinctly saw the girl give a signal to youngForsythe, who, for answer, only tipped his hat and gave her a peculiarsmile. 

In a moment more they had said good-by, and Margaret was left at theschool-house door with a cluster of eager children about her, andseveral shy boys in the background, ready to welcome her back as if shehad been gone a month. 

In the flutter of opening school Margaret failed to notice that RosaRogers did not appear. It was not until the roll was called that shenoticed her absence, and she looked uneasily toward the door many timesduring the morning, but Rosa did not come until after recess, when shestole smilingly in, as if it were quite the thing to come to schoollate. When questioned about her tardiness she said she had torn herdress and had to go home and change it. Margaret knew by the look in hereyes that the girl was not telling the truth, but what was she to do? Ittroubled her all the morning and went with her to a sleepless pillowthat night. She was beginning to see that life as a school-teacher inthe far West was not all she had imagined it to be. Her father had beenright. There would likely be more thorns than roses on her way. 

CHAPTER XX

The first time Lance Gardley met Rosa Rogers riding with ArchieForsythe he thought little of it. He knew the girl by sight, because heknew her father in a business way. That she was very young and one ofMargaret's pupils was all he knew about her. For the young man he hadconceived a strong dislike, but as there was no reason whatever for ithe put it out of his mind as quickly as possible. 

The second time he met them it was toward evening and they were sowholly absorbed in each other's society that they did not see him untilhe was close upon them. Forsythe looked up with a frown and a quick handto his hip, where gleamed a weapon. 

He scarcely returned the slight salute given by Gardley, and the twoyoung people touched up their horses and were soon out of sight in themesquite. But something in the frightened look of the girl's eyes causedGardley to turn and look after the two. 

Where could they be going at that hour of the evening? It was not atrail usually chosen for rides. It was lonely and unfrequented, and ledout of the way of travelers. Gardley himself had been a far errand forJasper Kemp, and had taken this short trail back because it cut offseveral miles and he was weary. Also, he was anxious to stop in Ashlandand leave Mom Wallis's request that Margaret would spend the nextSabbath at the camp and see the new curtains. He was thinking what heshould say to her when he saw her in a little while now, and thisinterruption to his thoughts was unwelcome. Nevertheless, he could notget away from that frightened look in the girl's eyes. Where could theyhave been going? That fellow was a new-comer in the region; perhaps hehad lost his way. Perhaps he did not know that the road he was takingthe girl led into a region of outlaws, and that the only habitationalong the way was a cabin belonging to an old woman of weird reputation, where wild orgies were sometimes celebrated, and where men went wholoved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. 

Twice Gardley turned in his saddle and scanned the desert. The sky wasdarkening, and one or two pale stars were impatiently shadowing forththeir presence. And now he could see the two riders again. They had comeup out of the mesquite to the top of the mesa, and were outlined againstthe sky sharply. They were still on the trail to old Ouida's cabin!

With a quick jerk Gardley reined in his horse and wheeled about, watching the riders for a moment; and then, setting spurs to his beast, he was off down the trail after them on one of his wild, reckless rides. Down through the mesquite he plunged, through the darkening grove, out, and up to the top of the mesa. He had lost sight of his quarry for thetime, but now he could see them again riding more slowly in the valleybelow, their horses close together, and even as he watched the sky tookon its wide night look and the stars blazed forth. 

Suddenly Gardley turned sharply from the trail and made a detour througha grove of trees, riding with reckless speed, his head down to escapelow branches; and in a minute or two he came with unerring instinct backto the trail some distance ahead of Forsythe and Rosa. Then he wheeledhis horse and stopped stock-still, awaiting their coming. 

By this time the great full moon was risen and, strangely enough, was atGardley's back, making a silhouette of man and horse as the two riderscame on toward him. 

They rode out from the cover of the grove, and there he was across theirpath. Rosa gave a scream, drawing nearer her companion, and her horseswerved and reared; but Gardley's black stood like an image carved inebony against the silver of the moon, and Gardley's quiet voice was instrong contrast to the quick, unguarded exclamation of Forsythe, as hesharply drew rein and put his hand hastily to his hip for his weapon. 

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Forsythe"--Gardley had an excellent memory fornames--"but I thought you might not be aware, being a new-comer in theseparts, that the trail you are taking leads to a place where ladies donot like to go. "

"Really! You don't say so!" answered the young man, insolently. "It isvery kind of you, I'm sure, but you might have saved yourself thetrouble. I know perfectly where I am going, and so does the lady, andwe choose to go this way. Move out of the way, please. You are detainingus. "

But Gardley did not move out of the way. "I am sure the lady does notknow where she is going, " he said, firmly. "I am sure that she does notknow that it is a place of bad reputation, even in this unconventionalland. At least, if she knows, I am sure that _her father_ does not know, and I am well acquainted with her father. "

"Get out of the way, sir, " said Forsythe, hotly. "It certainly is noneof your business, anyway, whoever knows what. Get out of the way or Ishall shoot. This lady and I intend to ride where we please. "

"Then I shall have to say you _cannot_, " said Gardley; and his voicestill had that calm that made his opponent think him easy to conquer. 

"Just how do you propose to stop us?" sneered Forsythe, pulling out hispistol. 

"This way, " said Gardley, lifting a tiny silver whistle to his lips andsending forth a peculiar, shrilling blast. "And this way, " went onGardley, calmly lifting both hands and showing a weapon in each, wherewith he covered the two. 

Rosa screamed and covered her face with her hands, cowering in hersaddle. 

Forsythe lifted his weapon, but looked around nervously. "Dead men tellno tales, " he said, angrily. 

"It depends upon the man, " said Gardley, meaningly, "especially if hewere found on this road. I fancy a few tales could be told if youhappened to be the man. Turn your horses around at once and take thislady back to her home. My men are not far off, and if you do not wishthe whole story to be known among your friends and hers you would bettermake haste. "

Forsythe dropped his weapon and obeyed. He decidedly did not wish hisescapade to be known among his friends. There were financial reasons whyhe did not care to have it come to the ears of his brother-in-law justnow. 

Silently in the moonlight the little procession took its way down thetrail, the girl and the man side by side, their captor close behind, andwhen the girl summoned courage to glance fearsomely behind her she sawthree more men riding like three grim shadows yet behind. They hadfallen into the trail so quietly that she had not heard them when theycame. They were Jasper Kemp, Long Bill, and Big Jim. They had been outfor other purposes, but without question followed the call of thesignal. 

It was a long ride back to Rogers's ranch, and Forsythe glancednervously behind now and then. It seemed to him that the company wasgrowing larger all the time. He half expected to see a regiment eachtime he turned. He tried hurrying his horse, but when he did so thefollowers were just as close without any seeming effort. He tried tolaugh it all off. 

Once he turned and tried to placate Gardley with a few shakily jovialwords:

"Look here, old fellow, aren't you the man I met on the trail the dayMiss Earle went over to the fort? I guess you've made a mistake in yourcalculations. I was merely out on a pleasure ride with Miss Rogers. Weweren't going anywhere in particular, you know. Miss Rogers chose thisway, and I wanted to please her. No man likes to have his pleasureinterfered with, you know. I guess you didn't recognize me?"

"I recognized you, " said Gardley. "It would be well for you to becareful where you ride with ladies, especially at night. The matter, however, is one that you would better settle with Mr. Rogers. My dutywill be done when I have put it into his hands. "

"Now, my good fellow, " said Forsythe, patronizingly, "you surely don'tintend to make a great fuss about this and go telling tales to Mr. Rogers about a trifling matter--"

"I intend to do my duty, Mr. Forsythe, " said Gardley; and Forsythenoticed that the young man still held his weapons. "I was set this nightto guard Mr. Rogers's property. That I did not expect his daughter wouldbe a part of the evening's guarding has nothing to do with the matter. Ishall certainly put the matter into Mr. Rogers's hands. "

Rosa began to cry softly. 

"Well, if you want to be a fool, of course, " laughed Forsythe, disagreeably; "but you will soon see Mr. Rogers will accept myexplanation. "

"That is for Mr. Rogers to decide, " answered Gardley, and said no more. 

The reflections of Forsythe during the rest of that silent ride were notpleasant, and Rosa's intermittent crying did not tend to make him morecomfortable. 

The silent procession at last turned in at the great ranch gate and rodeup to the house. Just as they stopped and the door of the house swungopen, letting out a flood of light, Rosa leaned toward Gardley andwhispered:

"Please, Mr. Gardley, don't tell papa. I'll do _anything_ in the worldfor you if you won't tell papa. "

He looked at the pretty, pitiful child in the moonlight. "I'm sorry, Miss Rosa, " he said, firmly. "But you don't understand. I must do myduty. "

"Then I shall hate you!" she hissed. "Do you hear? I shall _hate_ youforever, and you don't know what that means. It means I'll take my_revenge_ on you and on _everybody you like_. "

He looked at her half pityingly as he swung off his horse and went upthe steps to meet Mr. Rogers, who had come out and was standing on thetop step of the ranch-house in the square of light that flickered from agreat fire on the hearth of the wide fireplace. He was looking from oneto another of the silent group, and as his eyes rested on his daughterhe said, sternly:

"Why, Rosa, what does this mean? You told me you were going to bed witha headache!"

Gardley drew his employer aside and told what had happened in a fewlow-toned sentences; and then stepped down and back into the shadow, hishorse by his side, the three men from the camp grouped behind him. Hehad the delicacy to withdraw after his duty was done. 

Mr. Rogers, his face stern with sudden anger and alarm, stepped down andstood beside his daughter. "Rosa, you may get down and go into the houseto your own room. I will talk with you later, " he said. And then to theyoung man, "You, sir, will step into my office. I wish to have a plaintalk with you. "

A half-hour later Forsythe came out of the Rogers house and mounted hishorse, while Mr. Rogers stood silently and watched him. 

"I will bid you good evening, sir, " he said, formally, as the young manmounted his horse and silently rode away. His back had a defiant look inthe moonlight as he passed the group of men in the shadow; but they didnot turn to watch him. 

"That will be all to-night, Gardley, and I thank you very much, " calledthe clear voice of Mr. Rogers from his front steps. 

The four men mounted their horses silently and rode down a littledistance behind the young man, who wondered in his heart just how muchor how little Gardley had told Rosa's father. 

The interview to which young Forsythe had just been subjected had beenchastening in character, of a kind to baffle curiosity concerning thefather's knowledge of details, and to discourage any further romanticrides with Miss Rosa. It had been left in abeyance whether or not theTemples should be made acquainted with the episode, dependent upon thefuture conduct of both young people. It had not been satisfactory fromForsythe's point of view; that is, he had not been so easily able todisabuse the father's mind of suspicion, nor to establish his ownguileless character as he had hoped; and some of the remarks Rogers madeled Forsythe to think that the father understood just how unpleasant itmight become for him if his brother-in-law found out about theescapade. 

This is why Archie Forsythe feared Lance Gardley, although there wasnothing in the least triumphant about the set of that young man'sshoulders as he rode away in the moonlight on the trail toward Ashland. And this is how it came about that Rosa Rogers hated Lance Gardley, handsome and daring though he was; and because of him hated her teacher, Margaret Earle. 

An hour later Lance Gardley stood in the little dim Tanner parlor, talking to Margaret. 

"You look tired, " said the girl, compassionately, as she saw the haggardshadows on the young face, showing in spite of the light of pleasure inhis eyes. "You look _very_ tired. What in the world have you beendoing?"

"I went out to catch cattle-thieves, " he said, with a sigh, "but I foundthere were other kinds of thieves abroad. It's all in the day's work. I'm not tired now. " And he smiled at her with beautiful reverence. 

Margaret, as she watched him, could not help thinking that the lines inhis face had softened and strengthened since she had first seen him, andher eyes let him know that she was glad he had come. 

"And so you will really come to us, and it isn't going to be asking toomuch?" he said, wistfully. "You can't think what it's going to be to themen--to _us_! And Mom Wallis is so excited she can hardly get her workdone. If you had said no I would be almost afraid to go back. " Helaughed, but she could see there was deep earnestness under his tone. 

"Indeed I will come, " said Margaret. "I'm just looking forward to it. I'm going to bring Mom Wallis a new bonnet like one I made for mother;and I'm going to teach her how to make corn gems and steamed appledumplings. I'm bringing some songs and some music for the violin; andI've got something for you to help me do, too, if you will?"

He smiled tenderly down on her. What a wonderful girl she was, to bewilling to come out to the old shack among a lot of rough men and oneuncultured old woman and make them happy, when she was fit for thefinest in the land!

"You're _wonderful_!" he said, taking her hand with a quick pressure forgood-by. "You make every one want to do his best. "

He hurried out to his horse and rode away in the moonlight. Margaretwent up to her "mountain window" and watched him far out on the trail, her heart swelling with an unnamed gladness over his last words. 

"Oh, God, keep him, and help him to make good!" she prayed. 

CHAPTER XXI

The visit to the camp was a time to be remembered long by all theinhabitants of the bunk-house, and even by Margaret herself. Margaretwondered Friday evening, as she sat up late, working away braiding alovely gray bonnet out of folds of malines, and fashioning it into formfor Mom Wallis, why she was looking forward to the visit with so muchmore real pleasure than she had done to the one the week before at theTemples'. And so subtle is the heart of a maid that she never fathomedthe real reason. 

The Temples', of course, was interesting and delightful as beingsomething utterly new in her experience. It was comparatively luxurious, and there were pleasant, cultured people there, more from her own socialclass in life. But it was going to be such fun to surprise Mom Walliswith that bonnet and see her old face light up when she saw herself inthe little folding three-leaved mirror she was taking along with her andmeant to leave for Mom Wallis's log boudoir. She was quite excited overselecting some little thing for each one of the men--books, pictures, apiece of music, a bright cushion, and a pile of picture magazines. Itmade a big bundle when she had them together, and she was dubious if sheought to try to carry them all; but Bud, whom she consulted on thesubject, said, loftily, it "wasn't a flea-bite for the Kid; he couldcarry anything on a horse. "

Bud was just a little jealous to have his beloved teacher away from homeso much, and rejoiced greatly when Gardley, Friday afternoon, suggestedthat he come along, too. He made quick time to his home, and secured ahasty permission and wardrobe, appearing like a footman on his father'sold horse when they were half a mile down the trail. 

Mom Wallis was out at the door to greet her guest when she arrived, forMargaret had chosen to make her visit last from Friday afternoon afterschool, until Monday morning. It was the generosity of her nature thatshe gave to her utmost when she gave. 

The one fear she had entertained about coming had been set at rest onthe way when Gardley told her that Pop Wallis was off on one of his longtrips, selling cattle, and would probably not return for a week. Margaret, much as she trusted Gardley and the men, could not helpdreading to meet Pop Wallis again. 

There was a new trimness about the old bunk-house. The clearing had beencleaned up and made neat, the grass cut, some vines set out and trainedup limply about the door, and the windows shone with Mom Wallis'swashing. 

Mom Wallis herself was wearing her best white apron, stiff with starch, her lace collar, and her hair in her best imitation of the way Margarethad fixed it, although it must be confessed she hadn't quite caught theknack of arrangement yet. But the one great difference Margaret noticedin the old woman was the illuminating smile on her face. Mom Wallis hadlearned how to let the glory gleam through all the hard sordidness ofher life, and make earth brighter for those about her. 

The curtains certainly made a great difference in the looks of thebunk-house, together with a few other changes. The men had made somechairs--three of them, one out of a barrel; and together they hadupholstered them roughly. The cots around the walls were blazing withtheir red blankets folded smoothly and neatly over them, and on thefloor in front of the hearth, which had been scrubbed, Gardley hadspread a Navajo blanket he had bought of an Indian. 

The fireplace was piled with logs ready for the lighting at night, andfrom somewhere a lamp had been rigged up and polished till it shone inthe setting sun that slanted long rays in at the shining windows. 

The men were washed and combed, and had been huddled at the back of thebunk-house for an hour, watching the road, and now they came forwardawkwardly to greet their guest, their horny hands scrubbed to anunbelievable whiteness. They did not say much, but they looked theirpleasure, and Margaret greeted every one as if he were an old friend, the charming part about it all to the men being that she rememberedevery one's name and used it. 

Bud hovered in the background and watched with starry eyes. Bud washaving the time of his life. He preferred the teacher's visiting thecamp rather than the fort. The "Howdy, sonny!" which he had receivedfrom the men, and the "Make yourself at home, Bill" from Gardley, hadgiven him great joy; and the whole thing seemed somehow to link him tothe teacher in a most distinguishing manner. 

Supper was ready almost immediately, and Mom Wallis had done her best tomake it appetizing. There was a lamb stew with potatoes, and fresh cornbread with coffee. The men ate with relish, and watched their guest ofhonor as if she had been an angel come down to abide with them for aseason. There was a tablecloth on the old table, too--a _white_tablecloth. It looked remarkably like an old sheet, to be sure, with aseam through the middle where it had been worn and turned and sewedtogether; but it was a tablecloth now, and a marvel to the men. And thewonder about Margaret was that she could eat at such a table and make itseem as though that tablecloth were the finest damask, and the two-tinedforks the heaviest of silver. 

After the supper was cleared away and the lamp lighted, the gifts werebrought out. A book of Scotch poetry for Jasper Kemp, bound in tartancovers of the Campbell clan; a small illustrated pamphlet of NiagaraFalls for Big Jim, because he had said he wanted to see the place andnever could manage it; a little pictured folder of Washington City forBig Jim; a book of old ballad music for Fiddling Boss; a book of jokesfor Fade-away Forbes; a framed picture of a beautiful shepherd dog forStocky; a big, red, ruffled denim pillow for Croaker, because when shewas there before he was always complaining about the seats being hard;a great blazing crimson pennant bearing the name HARVARD in big lettersfor Fudge, because she had remembered he was from Boston; and for MomWallis a framed text beautifully painted in water-colors, done in rusticletters twined with stray forget-me-nots, the words, "Come unto Me, allye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. " Margarethad made that during the week and framed it in a simple raffia braid ofbrown and green. 

It was marvelous how these men liked their presents; and while they wereexamining them and laughing about them and putting their pictures andMom Wallis's text on the walls, and the pillow on a bunk, and thepennant over the fireplace, Margaret shyly held out a tiny box toGardley. 

"I thought perhaps you would let me give you this, " she said. "It isn'tmuch; it isn't even new, and it has some marks in it; but I thought itmight help with your new undertaking. "

Gardley took it with a lighting of his face and opened the box. In itwas a little, soft, leather-bound Testament, showing the marks of usage, yet not worn. It was a tiny thing, very thin, easily fitting in avest-pocket, and not a burden to carry. He took the little book in hishand, removed the silken rubber band that bound it, and turned theleaves reverently in his fingers, noting that there were pencil-markshere and there. His face was all emotion as he looked up at the giver. 

"I thank you, " he said, in a low tone, glancing about to see that no onewas noticing them. "I shall prize it greatly. It surely will help. Iwill read it every day. Was that what you wanted? And I will carry itwith me always. "

His voice was very earnest, and he looked at her as though she had givenhim a fortune. With another glance about at the preoccupied room--evenBud was busy studying Jasper Kemp's oldest gun--he snapped the band onthe book again and put it carefully in his inner breast-pocket. The bookwould henceforth travel next his heart and be his guide. She thought hemeant her to understand that, as he put out his hand unobtrusively andpressed her fingers gently with a quick, low "Thank you!"

Then Mom Wallis's bonnet was brought out and tied on her, and the poorold woman blushed like a girl when she stood with meek hands folded ather waist and looked primly about on the family for their approval atMargaret's request. But that was nothing to the way she stared whenMargaret got out the threefold mirror and showed her herself in the newheadgear. She trotted away at last, the wonderful bonnet in one hand, the box in the other, a look of awe on her face, and Margaret heard hermurmur as she put it away: "Glory! _Me!_ Glory!"

Then Margaret had to read one or two of the poems for Jasper Kemp, whilethey all sat and listened to her Scotch and marveled at her. A womanlike that condescending to come to visit them!

She gave a lesson in note-reading to the Fiddling Boss, pointing one byone with her white fingers to the notes until he was able to creep alongand pick out "Suwanee River" and "Old Folks at Home" to the intensedelight of the audience. 

Margaret never knew just how it was that she came to be telling the mena story, one she had read not long before in a magazine, a story with athrilling national interest and a keen personal touch that searched thehearts of men; but they listened as they had never listened to anythingin their lives before. 

And then there was singing, more singing, until it bade fair to bemorning before they slept, and the little teacher was weary indeed whenshe lay down on the cot in Mom Wallis's room, after having knelt besidethe old woman and prayed. 

The next day there was a wonderful ride with Gardley and Bud to thecañon of the cave-dwellers, and a coming home to the apple dumplings shehad taught Mom Wallis to make before she went away. All day Gardley andshe, with Bud for delighted audience, had talked over the play she wasgetting up at the school, Gardley suggesting about costumes and treeboughs for scenery, and promising to help in any way she wanted. Thenafter supper there were jokes and songs around the big fire, and somepopcorn one of the men had gone a long ride that day to get. They calledfor another story, too, and it was forthcoming. 

It was Sunday morning after breakfast, however, that Margaret suddenlywondered how she was going to make the day helpful and different fromthe other days. 

She stood for a moment looking out of the clear little windowthoughtfully, with just the shadow of a sigh on her lips, and as sheturned back to the room she met Gardley's questioning glance. 

"Are you homesick?" he asked, with a sorry smile. "This must all bevery different from what you are accustomed to. "

"Oh no, it isn't that. " She smiled, brightly. "I'm not a baby for home, but I do get a bit homesick about church-time. Sunday is such a strangeday to me without a service. "

"Why not have one, then?" he suggested, eagerly. "We can sing and--youcould--do the rest!"

Her eyes lighted at the suggestion, and she cast a quick glance at themen. Would they stand for that sort of thing?

Gardley followed her glance and caught her meaning. "Let them answer forthemselves, " he said quickly in a low tone, and then, raising his voice:"Speak up, men. Do you want to have church? Miss Earle here is homesickfor a service, and I suggest that we have one, and she conduct it. "

"Sure!" said Jasper Kemp, his face lighting. "I'll miss my guess if shecan't do better than the parson we had last Sunday. Get into your seats, boys; we're goin' to church. "

Margaret's face was a study of embarrassment and delight as she saw thealacrity with which the men moved to get ready for "church. " Her quickbrain turned over the possibility of what she could read or say to helpthis strange congregation thus suddenly thrust upon her. 

It was a testimony to her upbringing by a father whose great business oflife was to preach the gospel that she never thought once of hesitatingor declining the opportunity, but welcomed it as an opportunity, andonly deprecated her unreadiness for the work. 

The men stirred about, donned their coats, furtively brushing theirhair, and Long Bill insisted that Mom Wallis put on her new bonnet;which she obligingly did, and sat down carefully in the barrel-chair, her hands neatly crossed in her lap, supremely happy. It really waswonderful what a difference that bonnet made in Mom Wallis. 

Gardley arranged a comfortable seat for Margaret at the table and put infront of her one of the hymn-books she had brought. Then, after she wasseated, he took the chair beside her and brought out the littleTestament from his breast-pocket, gravely laying it on the hymn-book. 

Margaret met his eyes with a look of quick appreciation. It waswonderful the way these two were growing to understand each other. Itgave the girl a thrill of wonder and delight to have him do this simplelittle thing for her, and the smile that passed between them wasbeautiful to see. Long Bill turned away his head and looked out of thewindow with an improvised sneeze to excuse the sudden mist that cameinto his eyes. 

Margaret chose "My Faith looks up to Thee" for the first hymn, becauseFiddling Boss could play it, and while he was tuning up his fiddle shehastily wrote out two more copies of the words. And so the queer servicestarted with a quaver of the old fiddle and the clear, sweet voices ofMargaret and Gardley leading off, while the men growled on their waybehind, and Mom Wallis, in her new gray bonnet, with her hair allfluffed softly gray under it, sat with eyes shining like a girl's. 

So absorbed in the song were they all that they failed to hear the soundof a horse coming into the clearing. But just as the last words of thefinal verse died away the door of the bunk-house swung open, and therein the doorway stood Pop Wallis!

The men sprang to their feet with one accord, ominous frowns on theirbrows, and poor old Mom Wallis sat petrified where she was, the smile ofrelaxation frozen on her face, a look of fear growing in her tired oldeyes. 

Now Pop Wallis, through an unusual combination of circumstances, hadbeen for some hours without liquor and was comparatively sober. He stoodfor a moment staring amazedly at the group around his fireside. Perhapsbecause he had been so long without his usual stimulant his mind wasweakened and things appeared as a strange vision to him. At any rate, hestood and stared, and as he looked from one to another of the men, atthe beautiful stranger, and across to the strangely unfamiliar face ofhis wife in her new bonnet, his eyes took on a frightened look. Heslowly took his hand from the door-frame and passed it over his eyes, then looked again, from one to another, and back to his glorified wife. 

Margaret had half risen at her end of the table, and Gardley stoodbeside her as if to reassure her; but Pop Wallis was not looking at anyof them any more. His eyes were on his wife. He passed his hand oncemore over his eyes and took one step gropingly into the room, a handreached out in front of him, as if he were not sure but he might runinto something on the way, the other hand on his forehead, a dazed lookin his face. 

"Why, Mom--that ain't really--_you_, now, _is_ it?" he said, in agentle, insinuating voice like one long unaccustomed making a hastyprayer. 

The tone made a swift change in the old woman. She gripped her bonyhands tight and a look of beatific joy came into her wrinkled face. 

"Yes, it's really _me_, Pop!" she said, with a kind of triumphant ringto her voice. 

"But--but--you're right _here_, ain't you? You ain't _dead_, an'--an'--gone to--gl-oo-ry, be you? You're right _here_?"

"Yes, I'm right _here_, Pop. I ain't dead! Pop--glory's _come to me_!"

"Glory?" repeated the man, dazedly. "Glory?" And he gazed around theroom and took in the new curtains, the pictures on the wall, thecushions and chairs, and the bright, shining windows. "You don't meanit's _heav'n_, do you, Mom? 'Cause I better go back--_I_ don't belong inheav'n. Why, Mom, it can't be glory, 'cause it's the same oldbunk-house outside, anyhow. "

"Yes, it's the same old bunk-house, and it ain't heaven, but it's_goin_' to be. The glory's come all right. You sit down, Pop; we'regoin' to have church, and this is my new bonnet. _She_ brang it. This isthe new school-teacher, Miss Earle, and she's goin' to have church. Shedone it _all_! You sit down and listen. "

Pop Wallis took a few hesitating steps into the room and dropped intothe nearest chair. He looked at Margaret as if she might be an angelholding open the portal to a kingdom in the sky. He looked and wonderedand admired, and then he looked back to his glorified old wife again inwonder. 

Jasper Kemp shut the door, and the company dropped back into theirplaces. Margaret, because of her deep embarrassment, and a kind ofinward trembling that had taken possession of her, announced anotherhymn. 

It was a solemn little service, quite unique, with a brief, simpleprayer and an expository reading of the story of the blind man from thesixth chapter of John. The men sat attentively, their eyes upon her faceas she read; but Pop Wallis sat staring at his wife, an awed light uponhis scared old face, the wickedness and cunning all faded out, and onlyfear and wonder written there. 

In the early dawning of the pink-and-silver morning Margaret went backto her work, Gardley riding by her side, and Bud riding at a discreetdistance behind, now and then going off at a tangent after a straycottontail. It was wonderful what good sense Bud seemed to have onoccasion. 

The horse that Margaret rode, a sturdy little Western pony, with nerveand grit and a gentle common sense for humans, was to remain with her inAshland, a gift from the men of the bunk-house. During the week thatfollowed Archie Forsythe came riding over with a beautiful shiningsaddle-horse for her use during her stay in the West; but when he wentriding back to the ranch the shining saddle-horse was still in histrain, riderless, for Margaret told him that she already had a horse ofher own. Neither had Margaret accepted the invitation to the Temples'for the next week-end. She had other plans for the Sabbath, and thatweek there appeared on all the trees and posts about the town, and onthe trails, a little notice of a Bible class and vesper-service to beheld in the school-house on the following Sabbath afternoon; and soMargaret, true daughter of her minister-father, took up her mission inAshland for the Sabbaths that were to follow; for the school-board hadagreed with alacrity to such use of the school-house. 

CHAPTER XXII

Now when it became noised abroad that the new teacher wanted above allthings to purchase a piano, and that to that end she was getting up awonderful Shakespeare play in which the scholars were to act upon astage set with tree boughs after the manner of some new kind of players, the whole community round about began to be excited. 

Mrs. Tanner talked much about it. Was not Bud to be a prominentcharacter? Mr. Tanner talked about it everywhere he went. The mothersand fathers and sisters talked about it, and the work of preparing theplay went on. 

Margaret had discovered that one of the men at the bunk-house played aflute, and she was working hard to teach him and Fiddling Boss andCroaker to play a portion of the elfin dance to accompany the players. The work of making costumes and training the actors became more and morestrenuous, and in this Gardley proved a fine assistant. He undertook totrain some of the older boys for their parts, and did it so well that hewas presently in the forefront of the battle of preparation and workingalmost as hard as Margaret herself. 

The beauty of the whole thing was that every boy in the school adoredhim, even Jed and Timothy, and life took on a different aspect to themin company with this high-born college-bred, Eastern young man who yetcould ride and shoot with the daringest among the Westerners. 

Far and wide went forth the fame of the play that was to be. The news ofit reached to the fort and the ranches, and brought offers of assistanceand costumes and orders for tickets. Margaret purchased a smallduplicator and set her school to printing tickets and selling them, andbefore the play was half ready to be acted tickets enough were sold fortwo performances, and people were planning to come from fifty milesaround. The young teacher began to quake at the thought of her bigaudience and her poor little amateur players; and yet for children theywere doing wonderfully well, and were growing quite Shakespearian intheir manner of conversation. 

"What say you, sweet Amanda?" would be a form of frequent address tothat stolid maiden Amanda Bounds; and Jed, instead of shouting for"Delicate" at recess, as in former times, would say, "My good Timothy, Iswear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow; by his best arrow with thegolden head"--until all the school-yard rang with classic phrases; andthe whole country round was being addressed in phrases of anothercentury by the younger members of their households. 

Then Rosa Rogers's father one day stopped at the Tanners' and left acontribution with the teacher of fifty dollars toward the new piano; andafter that it was rumored that the teacher said the piano could be sentfor in time to be used at the play. Then other contributions of smalleramounts came in, and before the date of the play had been set there wasmoney enough to make a first payment on the piano. That day the Englishexercise for the whole school was to compose the letter to the Easternpiano firm where the piano was to be purchased, ordering it to be senton at once. Weeks before this Margaret had sent for a number of pianocatalogues beautifully illustrated, showing by cuts how the wholeinstruments were made, with full illustrations of the factories wherethey were manufactured, and she had discussed the selection with thescholars, showing them what points were to be considered in selecting agood piano. At last the order was sent out, the actual selection itselfto be made by a musical friend of Margaret's in New York, and the schoolwaited in anxious suspense to hear that it had started on its way. 

The piano arrived at last, three weeks before the time set for the play, which was coming on finely now and seemed to the eager scholars quiteready for public performance. Not so to Margaret and Gardley, as dailythey pruned, trained, and patiently went over and over again each part, drawing all the while nearer to the ideal they had set. It could not bedone perfectly, of course, and when they had done all they could therewould yet be many crudities; but Margaret's hope was to bring out themeaning of the play and give both audience and performers the true ideaof what Shakespeare meant when he wrote it. 

The arrival of the piano was naturally a great event in the school. Forthree days in succession the entire school marched in procession down tothe incoming Eastern train to see if their expected treasure hadarrived, and when at last it was lifted from the freight-car and setupon the station platform the school stood awe-struck and silent, withhalf-bowed heads and bated breath, as though at the arrival of somegreat and honorable guest. 

They attended it on the roadside as it was carted by the biggest wagonin town to the school-house door; they stood in silent rows while thegreat box was peeled off and the instrument taken out and carried intothe school-room; then they filed in soulfully and took their accustomedseats without being told, touching shyly the shining case as theypassed. By common consent they waited to hear its voice for the firsttime. Margaret took the little key from the envelope tied to the frame, unlocked the cover, and, sitting down, began to play. The rough men whohad brought it stood in awesome adoration around the platform; thesilence that spread over that room would have done honor to Paderewskior Josef Hoffman. 

Margaret played and played, and they could not hear enough. They wouldhave stayed all night listening, perhaps, so wonderful was it to them. And then the teacher called each one and let him or her touch a fewchords, just to say they had played on it. After which she locked theinstrument and sent them all home. That was the only afternoon duringthat term that the play was forgotten for a while. 

After the arrival of the piano the play went forward with greatstrides, for now Margaret accompanied some of the parts with the music, and the flute and violin were also practised in their elfin dance withmuch better effect. It was about this time that Archie Forsythediscovered the rehearsals and offered his assistance, and, although itwas declined, he frequently managed to ride over about rehearsal time, finding ways to make himself useful in spite of Margaret's politerefusals. Margaret always felt annoyed when he came, because Rosa Rogersinstantly became another creature on his arrival, and because Gardleysimply froze into a polite statue, never speaking except when spoken to. As for Forsythe, his attitude toward Gardley was that of a contemptuousmaster toward a slave, and yet he took care to cover it always with aform of courtesy, so that Margaret could say or do nothing to show herdispleasure, except to be grave and dignified. At such times RosaRogers's eyes would be upon her with a gleam of hatred, and the teacherfelt that the scholar was taking advantage of the situation. Altogetherit was a trying time for Margaret when Forsythe came to theschool-house. Also, he discovered to them that he played the violin, andoffered to assist in the orchestral parts. Margaret really could thinkof no reason to decline this offer, but she was sadly upset by the wholething. His manner to her was too pronounced, and she felt continuallyuncomfortable under it, what with Rosa Rogers's jealous eyes upon herand Gardley's eyes turned haughtily away. 

She planned a number of special rehearsals in the evenings, when it wasdifficult for Forsythe to get there, and managed in this way to avoidhis presence; but the whole matter became a source of much vexation, andMargaret even shed a few tears wearily into her pillow one night whenthings had gone particularly hard and Forsythe had hurt the feelings ofFiddling Boss with his insolent directions about playing. She could notsay or do anything much in the matter, because the Temples had been verykind in helping to get the piano, and Mr. Temple seemed to think he wasdoing the greatest possible kindness to her in letting Forsythe off dutyso much to help with the play. The matter became more and more of adistress to Margaret, and the Sabbath was the only day of real delight. 

The first Sunday after the arrival of the piano was a great day. Everybody in the neighborhood turned out to the Sunday-afternoon classand vesper service, which had been growing more and more in popularity, until now the school-room was crowded. Every man from the bunk-housecame regularly, often including Pop Wallis, who had not yet recoveredfully from the effect of his wife's new bonnet and fluffy arrangement ofhair, but treated her like a lady visitor and deferred to her absolutelywhen he was at home. He wasn't quite sure even yet but he had strayed bymistake into the outermost courts of heaven and ought to get shooed out. He always looked at the rose-wreathed curtains with a mingling of prideand awe. 

Margaret had put several hymns on the blackboard in clear, boldprinting, and the singing that day was wonderful. Not the least part ofthe service was her own playing over of the hymns before the singingbegan, which was listened to with reverence as if it had been the musicof an angel playing on a heavenly harp. 

Gardley always came to the Sunday services, and helped her with thesinging, and often they two sang duets together. 

The service was not always of set form. Usually Margaret taught a shortBible lesson, beginning with the general outline of the Bible, itsbooks, their form, substance, authors, etc. --all very brief andexceedingly simple, putting a wide space of music between this and thevesper service, into which she wove songs, bits of poems, passages fromthe Bible, and often a story which she told dramatically, illustratingthe scripture read. 

But the very Sunday before the play, just the time Margaret had lookedforward to as being her rest from all the perplexities of the week, acompany from the fort, including the Temples, arrived at theschool-house right in the midst of the Bible lesson. 

The ladies were daintily dressed, and settled their frills and ribbonsamusedly as they watched the embarrassed young teacher trying to forgetthat there was company present. They were in a distinct sense "company, "for they had the air, as they entered, of having come to look on and beamused, not to partake in the worship with the rest. 

Margaret found herself trembling inwardly as she saw the supercilioussmile on the lips of Mrs. Temple and the amused stares of the otherladies of the party. They did not take any notice of the other peoplepresent any more than if they had been so many puppets set up to showoff the teacher; their air of superiority was offensive. Not until RosaRogers entered with her father, a little later, did they condescend tobow in recognition, and then with that pretty little atmosphere as ifthey would say, "Oh, you've come, too, to be amused. "

Gardley was sitting up in front, listening to her talk, and she thoughthe had not noticed the strangers. Suddenly it came to her to try to keepher nerve and let him see that they were nothing to her; and with astrong effort and a swift prayer for help she called for a hymn. She satcoolly down at the piano, touching the keys with a tender chord or twoand beginning to sing almost at once. She had sent home for some oldhymn-books from the Christian Endeavor Society in her father's church, so the congregation were supplied with the notes and words now, andeverybody took part eagerly, even the people from the fortcondescendingly joining in. 

But Gardley was too much alive to every expression on that vivid face ofMargaret's to miss knowing that she was annoyed and upset. He did notneed to turn and look back to immediately discover the cause. He was ayoung person of keen intuition. It suddenly gave him great satisfactionto see that look of consternation on Margaret's face. It settled for hima question he had been in great and anxious doubt about, and his soulwas lifted up with peace within him. When, presently, according toarrangement, he rose to sing a duet with Margaret, no one could havepossibly told by so much as the lifting of an eyelash that he knew therewas an enemy of his in the back of the room. He sang, as did Margaret, to the immediate audience in front of him, those admiring children andadoring men in the forefront who felt the school-house had become forthem the gate of heaven for the time being; and he sang with marvelousfeeling and sympathy, letting out his voice at its best. 

"Really, " said Mrs. Temple, in a loud whisper to the wife of one of theofficers, "that young man has a fine voice, and he isn't bad-looking, either. I think he'd be worth cultivating. We must have him up and tryhim out. "

But when she repeated this remark in another stage whisper to Forsythehe frowned haughtily. 

The one glimpse Margaret caught of Forsythe during that afternoon'sservice was when he was smiling meaningly at Rosa Rogers; and she had toresolutely put the memory of their look from her mind or the story whichshe was about to tell would have fled. 

It was the hunger in Jasper Kemp's eyes that finally anchored Margaret'sthoughts and helped her to forget the company at the back of the room. She told her story, and she told it wonderfully and with power, interpreting it now and then for the row of men who sat in the center ofthe room drinking in her every word; and when the simple service wasconcluded with another song, in which Gardley's voice rang forth withpeculiar tenderness and strength, the men filed forth silently, solemnly, with bowed heads and thoughtful eyes. But the company from thefort flowed up around Margaret like flood-tide let loose and gushed uponher. 

"Oh, my dear!" said Mrs. Temple. "How beautifully you do it! And suchattention as they give you! No wonder you are willing to forego allother amusements to stay here and preach! But it was perfectly sweet theway you made them listen and the way you told that story. I don't seehow you do it. I'd be scared to death!"

They babbled about her awhile, much to her annoyance, for there wereseveral people to whom she had wanted to speak, who drew away anddisappeared when the new-comers took possession of her. At last, however, they mounted and rode away, to her great relief. Forsythe, itis true, tried to make her go home with them; tried to escort her to theTanners'; tried to remain in the school-house with her awhile when shetold him she had something to do there; but she would not let him, andhe rode away half sulky at the last, a look of injured pride upon hisface. 

Margaret went to the door finally, and looked down the road. He wasgone, and she was alone. A shade of sadness came over her face. She wassorry that Gardley had not waited. She had wanted to tell him how muchshe liked his singing, what a pleasure it was to sing with him, and howglad she was that he came up to her need so well with the strangersthere and helped to make it easy. But Gardley had melted away as soon asthe service was over, and had probably gone home with the rest of themen. It was disappointing, for she had come to consider their littletime together on Sunday as a very pleasant hour, this few minutes afterthe service when they would talk about real living and the vital thingsof existence. But he was gone!

She turned, and there he was, quite near the door, coming toward her. Her face lighted up with a joy that was unmistakable, and his own smilein answer was a revelation of his deeper self. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you are not gone!" she said, eagerly. "I wanted to tellyou--" And then she stopped, and the color flooded her face rosily, forshe saw in his eyes how glad he was and forgot to finish her sentence. 

He came up gravely, after all, and, standing just a minute so beside thedoor, took both her hands in both his. It was only for a second that hestood so, looking down into her eyes. I doubt if either of them knewtill afterward that they had been holding hands. It seemed the right andnatural thing to do, and meant so much to each of them. Both were gladbeyond their own understanding over that moment and its tenderness. 

It was all very decorous, and over in a second, but it meant much toremember afterward, that look and hand-clasp. 

"I wanted to tell you, " he said, tenderly, "how much that story did forme. It was wonderful, and it helped me to decide something I have beenperplexed over--"

"Oh, I am glad!" she said, half breathlessly. 

So, talking in low, broken sentences, they went back to the piano andtried over several songs for the next Sunday, lingering together, justhappy to be there with each other, and not half knowing the significanceof it all. As the purple lights on the school-room wall grew long androse-edged, they walked slowly to the Tanner house and said good night. 

There was a beauty about the young man as he stood for a moment lookingdown upon the girl in parting, the kind of beauty there is in anystrong, wild thing made tame and tender for a great love by a greatuplift. Gardley had that look of self-surrender, and power madesubservient to right, that crowns a man with strength and more thanphysical beauty. In his fine face there glowed high purpose, and deepdevotion to the one who had taught it to him. Margaret, looking up athim, felt her heart go out with that great love, half maiden, halfdivine, that comes to some favored women even here on earth, and shewatched him down the road toward the mountain in the evening light andmarveled how her trust had grown since first she met him; marveled andreflected that she had not told her mother and father much about himyet. It was growing time to do so; yes--_it was growing time_! Hercheeks grew pink in the darkness and she turned and fled to her room. 

That was the last time she saw him before the play. 

CHAPTER XXIII

The play was set for Tuesday. Monday afternoon and evening were to bethe final rehearsals, but Gardley did not come to them. Fiddling Bosscame late and said the men had been off all day and had not yetreturned. He himself found it hard to come at all. They had importantwork on. But there was no word from Gardley. 

Margaret was disappointed. She couldn't get away from it. Of course theycould go on with the rehearsal without him. He had done his work well, and there was no real reason why he had to be there. He knew every partby heart, and could take any boy's place if any one failed in any way. There was nothing further really for him to do until the performance, asfar as that was concerned, except be there and encourage her. But shemissed him, and an uneasiness grew in her mind. She had so lookedforward to seeing him, and now to have no word! He might at least havesent her a note when he found he could not come. 

Still she knew this was unreasonable. His work, whatever it was--he hadnever explained it very thoroughly to her, perhaps because she had neverasked--must, of course, have kept him. She must excuse him withoutquestion and go on with the business of the hour. 

Her hands were full enough, for Forsythe came presently and was moretrying than usual. She had to be very decided and put her foot downabout one or two things, or some of her actors would have gone home inthe sulks, and Fiddling Boss, whose part in the program meant much tohim, would have given it up entirely. 

She hurried everything through as soon as possible, knowing she wasweary, and longing to get to her room and rest. Gardley would come andexplain to-morrow, likely in the morning on his way somewhere. 

But the morning came and no word. Afternoon came and he had not sent asign yet. Some of the little things that he had promised to do about thesetting of the stage would have to remain undone, for it was too latenow to do it herself, and there was no one else to call upon. 

Into the midst of her perplexity and anxiety came the news that Jed onhis way home had been thrown from his horse, which was a young andvicious one, and had broken his leg. Jed was to act the part of NickBottom that evening, and he did it well! Now what in the world was sheto do? If only Gardley would come!

Just at this moment Forsythe arrived. 

"Oh, it is you, Mr. Forsythe!" And her tone showed plainly herdisappointment. "Haven't you seen Mr. Gardley to-day? I don't know whatI shall do without him. "

"I certainly have seen Gardley, " said Forsythe, a spice ofvindictiveness and satisfaction in his tone. "I saw him not two hoursago, drunk as a fish, out at a place called Old Ouida's Cabin, as I waspassing. He's in for a regular spree. You'll not see him for severaldays, I fancy. He's utterly helpless for the present, and out of thequestion. What is there I can do for you? Present your request. It'syours--to the half of my kingdom. "

Margaret's heart grew cold as ice and then like fire. Her blood seemedto stop utterly and then to go pounding through her veins in leaps andtorrents. Her eyes grew dark, and things swam before her. She reachedout to a desk and caught at it for support, and her white face looked athim a moment as if she had not heard. But when in a second she spoke, she said, quite steadily:

"I thank you, Mr. Forsythe; there is nothing just at present--or, yes, there is, if you wouldn't mind helping Timothy put up those curtains. Now, I think I'll go home and rest a few minutes; I am very tired. "

It wasn't exactly the job Forsythe coveted, to stay in the school-houseand fuss over those curtains; but she made him do it, then disappeared, and he didn't like the memory of her white face. He hadn't thought shewould take it that way. He had expected to have her exclaim with horrorand disgust. He watched her out of the door, and then turned impatientlyto the waiting Timothy. 

Margaret went outside the school-house to call Bud, who had been sent togather sage-brush for filling in the background, but Bud was already outof sight far on the trail toward the camp on Forsythe's horse, ridingfor dear life. Bud had come near to the school-house door with hisarmful of sage-brush just in time to hear Forsythe's flippant speechabout Gardley and see Margaret's white face. Bud had gone for help!

But Margaret did not go home to rest. She did not even get half-wayhome. When she had gone a very short distance outside the school-houseshe saw some one coming toward her, and in her distress of mind shecould not tell who it was. Her eyes were blinded with tears, her breathwas constricted, and it seemed to her that a demon unseen was grippingher heart. She had not yet taken her bearings to know what she thought. She had only just come dazed from the shock of Forsythe's words, and hadnot the power to think. Over and over to herself, as she walked along, she kept repeating the words: "I _do not_ believe it! It is _not_ true!"but her inner consciousness had not had time to analyze her soul and besure that she believed the words wherewith she was comforting herself. 

So now, when she saw some one coming, she felt the necessity of bringingher telltale face to order and getting ready to answer whoever she wasto meet. As she drew nearer she became suddenly aware that it was RosaRogers coming with her arms full of bundles and more piled up in frontof her on her pony. Margaret knew at once that Rosa must have seenForsythe go by her house, and had returned promptly to the school-houseon some pretext or other. It would not do to let her go there alone withthe young man; she must go back and stay with them. She could not besure that if she sent Rosa home with orders to rest she would be obeyed. Doubtless the girl would take another way around and return to theschool again. There was nothing for it but to go back and stay as longas Rosa did. 

Margaret stooped and, hastily plucking a great armful of sage-brush, turned around and retraced her steps, her heart like lead, her feetsuddenly grown heavy. How could she go back and hear them laugh andchatter, answer their many silly, unnecessary questions, and stand itall? How could she, with that great weight at her heart?

She went back with a wonderful self-control. Forsythe's face lighted, and his reluctant hand grew suddenly eager as he worked. Rosa camepresently, and others, and the laughing chatter went on quite asMargaret had known it would. And she--so great is the power of humanwill under pressure--went calmly about and directed here and there;planned and executed; put little, dainty, wholly unnecessary touches tothe stage; and never let any one know that her heart was being crushedwith the weight of a great, awful fear, and yet steadily upborne by therising of a great, deep trust. As she worked and smiled and ordered, shewas praying: "Oh, God, don't let it be true! Keep him! Save him! Bringhim! Make him true! I _know_ he is true! Oh, God, bring him safely_soon_!"

Meantime there was nothing she could do. She could not send Forsytheafter him. She could not speak of the matter to one of those present, and Bud--where was Bud? It was the first time since she came to Arizonathat Bud had failed her. She might not leave the school-house, withForsythe and Rosa there, to go and find him, and she might not doanything else. There was nothing to do but work on feverishly and prayas she had never prayed before. 

By and by one of the smaller boys came, and she sent him back to theTanners' to find Bud, but he returned with the message that Bud had notbeen home since morning; and so the last hours before the evening, thatwould otherwise have been so brief for all there was to be done, draggedtheir weary length away and Margaret worked on. 

She did not even go back for supper at the last, but sent one of thegirls to her room for a few things she needed, and declined even thenice little chicken sandwich that thoughtful Mrs. Tanner sent back alongwith the things. And then, at last, the audience began to gather. 

By this time her anxiety was so great for Gardley that all thought ofhow she was to supply the place of the absent Jed had gone from hermind, which was in a whirl. Gardley! Gardley! If only Gardley wouldcome! That was her one thought. What should she do if he didn't come atall? How should she explain things to herself afterward? What if it hadbeen true? What if he were the kind of man Forsythe had suggested? Howterrible life would look to her! But it was not true. No, it was nottrue! She trusted him! With her soul she trusted him! He would come backsome time and he would explain all. She could not remember his last lookat her on Sunday and not trust him. He was true! He would come!

Somehow she managed to get through the terrible interval, to slip intothe dressing-room and make herself sweet and comely in the little whitegown she had sent for, with its delicate blue ribbons and soft laceruffles. Somehow she managed the expected smiles as one and another ofthe audience came around to the platform to speak to her. There weredark hollows under her eyes, and her mouth was drawn and weary, but theylaid that to the excitement. Two bright-red spots glowed on her cheeks;but she smiled and talked with her usual gaiety. People looked at herand said how beautiful she was, and how bright and untiring; and howwonderful it was that Ashland School had drawn such a prize of ateacher. The seats filled, the noise and the clatter went on. Still nosign of Gardley or any one from the camp, and still Bud had notreturned! What could it mean?

But the minutes were rushing rapidly now. It was more than time tobegin. The girls were in a flutter in one cloak-room at the right of thestage, asking more questions in a minute than one could answer in anhour; the boys in the other cloak-room wanted all sorts of help; andthree or four of the actors were attacked with stage-fright as theypeered through a hole in the curtain and saw some friend or relativearrive and sit down in the audience. It was all a mad whirl of seeminglyuseless noise and excitement, and she could not, no, she _could not_, goon and do the necessary things to start that awful play. Why, oh, _why_had she ever been left to think of getting up a play?

Forsythe, up behind the piano, whispered to her that it was time tobegin. The house was full. There was not room for another soul. Margaretexplained that Fiddling Boss had not yet arrived, and caught a glimpseof the cunning designs of Forsythe in the shifty turning away of hiseyes as he answered that they could not wait all night for him; that ifhe wanted to get into it he ought to have come early. But even as sheturned away she saw the little, bobbing, eager faces of Pop and MomWallis away back by the door, and the grim, towering figure of the Boss, his fiddle held high, making his way to the front amid the crowd. 

She sat down and touched the keys, her eyes watching eagerly for achance to speak to the Boss and see if he knew anything of Gardley; butForsythe was close beside her all the time, and there was noopportunity. She struck the opening chords of the overture they were toattempt to play, and somehow got through it. Of course, the audience wasnot a critical one, and there were few real judges of music present; butit may be that the truly wonderful effect she produced upon thelisteners was due to the fact that she was playing a prayer with herheart as her fingers touched the keys, and that instead of a preliminaryto a fairy revel the music told the story of a great soul struggle, andreached hearts as it tinkled and rolled and swelled on to the end. Itmay be, too, that Fiddling Boss was more in sympathy that night with hisaccompanist than was the other violinist, and that was why his oldfiddle brought forth such weird and tender tones. 

Almost to the end, with her heart sobbing its trouble to the keys, Margaret looked up sadly, and there, straight before her through a holein the curtain made by some rash youth to glimpse the audience, orperhaps even put there by the owner of the nose itself, she saw thelittle, freckled, turned-up member belonging to Bud's face. A secondmore and a big, bright eye appeared and solemnly winked at her twice, asif to say, "Don't you worry; it's all right!"

She almost started from the stool, but kept her head enough to finishthe chords, and as they died away she heard a hoarse whisper in Bud'sfamiliar voice:

"Whoop her up, Miss Earle. We're all ready. Raise the curtain there, youguy. Let her rip. Everything's O. K. "

With a leap of light into her eyes Margaret turned the leaves of themusic and went on playing as she should have done if nothing had beenthe matter. Bud was there, anyway, and that somehow cheered her heart. Perhaps Gardley had come or Bud had heard of him--and yet, Bud didn'tknow he had been missing, for Bud had been away himself. 

Nevertheless, she summoned courage to go on playing. Nick Bottom wasn'tin this first scene, anyway, and this would have to be gone through withsomehow. By this time she was in a state of daze that only thought frommoment to moment. The end of the evening seemed now to her as far off asthe end of a hale old age seems at the beginning of a lifetime. Somehowshe must walk through it; but she could only see a step at a time. 

Once she turned half sideways to the audience and gave a hurried glanceabout, catching sight of Fudge's round, near-sighted face, and that gaveher encouragement. Perhaps the others were somewhere present. If onlyshe could get a chance to whisper to some one from the camp and askwhen they had seen Gardley last! But there was no chance, of course!

The curtain was rapidly raised and the opening scene of the play began, the actors going through their parts with marvelous ease and dexterity, and the audience silent and charmed, watching those strangers in queercostumes that were their own children, marching around there at theirease and talking weird language that was not used in any class ofsociety they had ever come across on sea or land before. 

But Margaret, watching her music as best she could, and playingmechanically rather than with her mind, could not tell if they weredoing well or ill, so loudly did her heart pound out her fears--sostoutly did her heart proclaim her trust. 

And thus, without a flaw or mistake in the execution of the work she hadstruggled so hard to teach them, the first scene of the first act drewto its close, and Margaret struck the final chords of the music and feltthat in another minute she must reel and fall from that piano-stool. Andyet she sat and watched the curtain fall with a face as controlled as ifnothing at all were the matter. 

A second later she suddenly knew that to sit in that place calmlyanother second was a physical impossibility. She must get somewhere tothe air at once or her senses would desert her. 

With a movement so quick that no one could have anticipated it, sheslipped from her piano-stool, under the curtain to the stage, and wasgone before the rest of the orchestra had noticed her intention. 

CHAPTER XXIV

Since the day that he had given Margaret his promise to make good, Gardley had been regularly employed by Mr. Rogers, looking afterimportant matters of his ranch. Before that he had lived a free and easylife, working a little now and then when it seemed desirable to him, having no set interest in life, and only endeavoring from day to day toput as far as possible from his mind the life he had left behind him. Now, however, all things became different. He brought to his service thekeen mind and ready ability that had made him easily a winner at anygame, a brave rider, and a never-failing shot. Within a few days Rogerssaw what material was in him, and as the weeks went by grew to dependmore and more upon his advice in matters. 

There had been much trouble with cattle thieves, and so far no method ofstopping the loss or catching the thieves had been successful. Rogersfinally put the matter into Gardley's hands to carry out his own ideas, with the men of the camp at his command to help him, the camp itselfbeing only a part of Rogers's outlying possessions, one of several suchcenters from which he worked his growing interests. 

Gardley had formulated a scheme by which he hoped eventually to gethold of the thieves and put a stop to the trouble, and he was prettysure he was on the right track; but his plan required slow and cautiouswork, that the enemy might not suspect and take to cover. He had forseveral weeks suspected that the thieves made their headquarters in theregion of Old Ouida's Cabin, and made their raids from that direction. It was for this reason that of late the woods and trails in the vicinityof Ouida's had been secretly patrolled day and night, and everypasser-by taken note of, until Gardley knew just who were thefrequenters of that way and mostly what was their business. This workwas done alternately by the men of the Wallis camp and two other camps, Gardley being the head of all and carrying all responsibility; and notthe least of that young man's offenses in the eyes of Rosa Rogers wasthat he was so constantly at her father's house and yet never lifted aneye in admiration of her pretty face. She longed to humiliate him, andthrough him to humiliate Margaret, who presumed to interfere with herflirtations, for it was a bitter thing to Rosa that Forsythe had no eyesfor her when Margaret was about. 

When the party from the fort rode homeward that Sunday after the serviceat the school-house, Forsythe lingered behind to talk to Margaret, andthen rode around by the Rogers place, where Rosa and he had long agoestablished a trysting-place. 

Rosa was watching for his passing, and he stopped a half-hour or so totalk to her. During this time she casually disclosed to Forsythe some ofthe plans she had overheard Gardley laying before her father. Rosa hadvery little idea of the importance of Gardley's work to her father, orperhaps she would not have so readily prattled of his affairs. Her mainidea was to pay back Gardley for his part in her humiliation withForsythe. She suggested that it would be a great thing if Gardley couldbe prevented from being at the play Tuesday evening, and told what shehad overheard him saying to her father merely to show Forsythe how easyit would be to have Gardley detained on Tuesday. Forsythe questionedRosa keenly. Did she know whom they suspected? Did she know what theywere planning to do to catch them, and when?

Rosa innocently enough disclosed all she knew, little thinking howdishonorable to her father it was, and perhaps caring as little, forRosa had ever been a spoiled child, accustomed to subordinatingeverything within reach to her own uses. As for Forsythe, he was nothingloath to get rid of Gardley, and he saw more possibilities in Rosa'ssuggestion than she had seen herself. When at last he bade Rosa goodnight and rode unobtrusively back to the trail he was alreadyformulating a plan. 

It was, therefore, quite in keeping with his wishes that he should meeta dark-browed rider a few miles farther up the trail whose identity hehad happened to learn a few days before. 

Now Forsythe would, perhaps, not have dared to enter into any compactagainst Gardley with men of such ill-repute had it been a matter ofmoney and bribery, but, armed as he was with information valuable to thecriminals, he could so word his suggestion about Gardley's detention asto make the hunted men think it to their advantage to catch Gardleysome time the next day when he passed their way and imprison him for awhile. This would appear to be but a friendly bit of advice from adisinterested party deserving a good turn some time in the future andnot get Forsythe into any trouble. As such it was received by thewretch, who clutched at the information with ill-concealed delight androde away into the twilight like a serpent threading his secret, glidingway among the darkest places, scarcely rippling the air, so stealthilydid he pass. 

As for Forsythe, he rode blithely to the Temple ranch, with no thoughtof the forces he had set going, his life as yet one round of trying toplease himself at others' expense, if need be, but please himself, _anyway_, with whatever amusement the hour afforded. 

At home in the East, where his early life had been spent, a splendidgirl awaited his dilatory letters and set herself patiently to endurethe months of separation until he should have attained a home and aliving and be ready for her to come to him. 

In the South, where he had idled six months before he went West, anotherlovely girl cherished mementoes of his tarrying and wrote him lovingletters in reply to his occasional erratic epistles. 

Out on the Californian shore a girl with whom he had traveled West inher uncle's luxurious private car, with a gay party of friends andrelatives, cherished fond hopes of a visit he had promised to make herduring the winter. 

Innumerable maidens of this world, wise in the wisdom that crusheshearts, remembered him with a sigh now and then, but held no illusionsconcerning his kind. 

Pretty little Rosa Rogers cried her eyes out every time he cast alanguishing look at her teacher, and several of the ladies of the fortsighed that the glance of his eye and the gentle pressure of his handcould only be a passing joy. But the gay Lothario passed on his way asyet without a scratch on the hard enamel of his heart, till one wonderedif it were a heart, indeed, or perhaps only a metal imitation. But girlslike Margaret Earle, though they sometimes were attracted by him, invariably distrusted him. He was like a beautiful spotted snake thatwas often caught menacing something precious, but you could put him downanywhere after punishment or imprisonment and he would slide on his sameslippery way and still be a spotted, deadly snake. 

When Gardley left the camp that Monday morning following the walk homewith Margaret from the Sabbath service, he fully intended to be back atthe school-house Monday by the time the afternoon rehearsal began. Hisplans were so laid that he thought relays from other camps were to guardthe suspected ground for the next three days and he could be free. Ithad been a part of the information that Forsythe had given the strangerthat Gardley would likely pass a certain lonely crossing of the trail atabout three o'clock that afternoon, and, had that arrangement beencarried out, the men who lay in wait for him would doubtless have beenpleased to have their plans mature so easily; but they would not havebeen pleased long, for Gardley's men were so near at hand at that time, watching that very spot with eyes and ears and long-distance glasses, that their chief would soon have been rescued and the captors bethemselves the captured. 

But the men from the farther camp, called "Lone Fox" men, did not arriveon time, perhaps through some misunderstanding, and Gardley and Kemp andtheir men had to do double time. At last, later in the afternoon, Gardley volunteered to go to Lone Fox and bring back the men. 

As he rode his thoughts were of Margaret, and he was seeing again thelook of gladness in her eyes when she found he had not gone yesterday;feeling again the thrill of her hands in his, the trust of her smile! Itwas incredible, wonderful, that God had sent a veritable angel into thewilderness to bring him to himself; and now he was wondering, could itbe that there was really hope that he could ever make good enough todare to ask her to marry him. The sky and the air were rare, but histhoughts were rarer still, and his soul was lifted up with joy. He wasearning good wages now. In two more weeks he would have enough to payback the paltry sum for the lack of which he had fled from his old homeand come to the wilderness. He would go back, of course, and straightenout the old score. Then what? Should he stay in the East and go back tothe old business wherewith he had hoped to make his name honored andgain wealth, or should he return to this wild, free land again and startanew?

His mother was dead. Perhaps if she had lived and cared he would havemade good in the first place. His sisters were both married to wealthymen and not deeply interested in him. He had disappointed and mortifiedthem; their lives were filled with social duties; they had never missedhim. His father had been dead many years. As for his uncle, his mother'sbrother, whose heir he was to have been before he got himself intodisgrace, he decided not to go near him. He would stay as long as hemust to undo the wrong he had done. He would call on his sisters andthen come back; come back and let Margaret decide what she wanted him todo--that is, if she would consent to link her life with one who had beenonce a failure. Margaret! How wonderful she was! If Margaret said heought to go back and be a lawyer, he would go--yes, even if he had toenter his uncle's office as an underling to do it. His soul loathed theidea, but he would do it for Margaret, if she thought it best. And so hemused as he rode!

When the Lone Fox camp was reached and the men sent out on their belatedtask, Gardley decided not to go with them back to meet Kemp and theother men, but sent word to Kemp that he had gone the short cut toAshland, hoping to get to a part of the evening rehearsal yet. 

Now that short cut led him to the lonely crossing of the trail muchsooner than Kemp and the others could reach it from the rendezvous; andthere in cramped positions, and with much unnecessary cursing andimpatience, four strong masked men had been concealed for four longhours. 

Through the stillness of the twilight rode Gardley, thinking ofMargaret, and for once utterly off his guard. His long day's work wasdone, and though he had not been able to get back when he planned, hewas free now, free until the day after to-morrow. He would go at once toher and see if there was anything she wanted him to do. 

Then, as if to help along his enemies, he began to hum a song, hisclear, high voice reaching keenly to the ears of the men in ambush:

 "'Oh, the time is long, mavourneen, Till I come again, O mavourneen--'"

"And the toime 'll be longer thun iver, oim thinkin', ma purty littlevoorneen!" said an unmistakable voice of Erin through the gatheringdusk. 

Gardley's horse stopped and Gardley's hand went to his revolver, whilehis other hand lifted the silver whistle to his lips; but four gunsbristled at him in the twilight, the whistle was knocked from his lipsbefore his breath had even reached it, some one caught his arms frombehind, and his own weapon was wrenched from his hand as it went off. The cry which he at once sent forth was stifled in its first whisper ina great muffling garment flung over his head and drawn tightly about hisneck. He was in a fair way to strangle, and his vigorous efforts atescape were useless in the hands of so many. He might have been plungedat once into a great abyss of limitless, soundless depths, so futile didany resistance seem. And so, as it was useless to struggle, he lay likeone dead and put all his powers into listening. But neither could hehear much, muffled as he was, and bound hand and foot now, with a gag inhis mouth and little care taken whether he could even breathe. 

They were leading him off the trail and up over rough ground; so much heknew, for the horse stumbled and jolted and strained to carry him. Tokeep his whirling senses alive and alert he tried to think where theymight be leading him; but the darkness and the suffocation dulled hispowers. He wondered idly if his men would miss him and come back whenthey got home to search for him, and then remembered with a pang thatthey would think him safely in Ashland, helping Margaret. They would notbe alarmed if he did not return that night, for they would suppose hehad stopped at Rogers's on the way and perhaps stayed all night, as hehad done once or twice before. _Margaret!_ When should he see Margaretnow? What would she think?

And then he swooned away. 

When he came somewhat to himself he was in a close, stifling room wherecandle-light from a distance threw weird shadows over the adobe walls. The witch-like voices of a woman and a girl in harsh, cackling laughter, half suppressed, were not far away, and some one, whose face wascovered, was holding a glass to his lips. The smell was sickening, andhe remembered that he hated the thought of liquor. It did not fit withthose who companied with Margaret. He had never cared for it, and hadresolved never to taste it again. But whether he chose or not, theliquor was poured down his throat. Huge hands held him and forced it, and he was still bound and too weak to resist, even if he had realizedthe necessity. 

The liquid burned its way down his throat and seethed into his brain, and a great darkness, mingled with men's wrangling voices and muchcursing, swirled about him like some furious torrent of angry watersthat finally submerged his consciousness. Then came deeper darkness anda blank relief from pain. 

Hours passed. He heard sounds sometimes, and dreamed dreams which hecould not tell from reality. He saw his friends with terror written ontheir faces, while he lay apathetically and could not stir. He saw tearson Margaret's face; and once he was sure he heard Forsythe's voice incontempt: "Well, he seems to be well occupied for the present! No dangerof his waking up for a while!" and then the voices all grew dim and faraway again, and only an old crone and the harsh girl's whisper over him;and then Margaret's tears--tears that fell on his heart from far above, and seemed to melt out all his early sins and flood him with theirhorror. Tears and the consciousness that he ought to be doing somethingfor Margaret now and could not. Tears--and more darkness!

CHAPTER XXV

When Margaret arrived behind the curtain she was aware of many cries andquestions hurled at her like an avalanche, but, ignoring them all, shesprang past the noisy, excited group of young people, darted through thedressing-room to the right and out into the night and coolness. Her headwas swimming, and things went black before her eyes. She felt that herbreath was going, going, and she must get to the air. 

But when she passed the hot wave of the school-room, and the sharp airof the night struck her face, consciousness seemed to turn and come backinto her again; for there over her head was the wideness of the vast, starry Arizona night, and there, before her, in Nick Bottom's sombercostume, eating one of the chicken sandwiches that Mrs. Tanner had sentdown to her, stood Gardley! He was pale and shaken from his recentexperience; but he was undaunted, and when he saw Margaret coming towardhim through the doorway with her soul in her eyes and her spirit allaflame with joy and relief, he came to meet her under the stars, and, forgetting everything else, just folded her gently in his arms!

It was a most astonishing thing to do, of course, right there outsidethe dressing-room door, with the curtain just about to rise on the sceneand Gardley's wig was not on yet. He had not even asked nor obtainedpermission. But the soul sometimes grows impatient waiting for the lipsto speak, and Margaret felt her trust had been justified and her hearthad found its home. Right there behind the school-house, out in thegreat wide night, while the crowded, clamoring audience waited for them, and the young actors grew frantic, they plighted their troth, his lipsupon hers, and with not a word spoken. 

Voices from the dressing-room roused them. "Come in quick, Mr. Gardley;it's time for the curtain to rise, and everybody is ready. Where onearth has Miss Earle vanished? Miss Earle! Oh, Miss Earle!"

There was a rush to the dressing-room to find the missing ones; but Bud, as ever, present where was the most need, stood with his back to theoutside world in the door of the dressing-room and called loudly:

"They're comin', all right. Go on! Get to your places. Miss Earle saysto get to your places. "

The two in the darkness groped for each other's hands as they stoodsuddenly apart, and with one quick pressure and a glance hurried in. There was not any need for words. They understood, these two, andtrusted. 

With her cheeks glowing now, and her eyes like two stars, Margaret fledacross the stage and took her place at the piano again, just as thecurtain began to be drawn; and Forsythe, who had been slightly uneasy atthe look on her face as she left them, wondered now and leaned forwardto tell her how well she was looking. 

He kept his honeyed phrase to himself, however, for she was not heedinghim. Her eyes were on the rising curtain, and Forsythe suddenlyremembered that this was the scene in which Jed was to haveappeared--and Jed had a broken leg! What had Margaret done about it? Itwas scarcely a part that could be left out. Why hadn't he thought of itsooner and offered to take it? He could have bluffed it out somehow--hehad heard it so much--made up words where he couldn't remember them all, and it would have been a splendid opportunity to do some reallove-making with Rosa. Why hadn't he thought of it? Why hadn't Rosa?Perhaps she hadn't heard about Jed soon enough to suggest it. 

The curtain was fully open now, and Bud's voice as Peter Quince, atrifle high and cracked with excitement, broke the stillness, while theawed audience gazed upon this new, strange world presented to them. 

"Is all our company here?" lilted out Bud, excitedly, and Nick Bottomreplied with Gardley's voice:

"You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to thescrip. "

Forsythe turned deadly white. Jasper Kemp, whose keen eye was upon him, saw it through the tan, saw his lips go pale and purple points of fearstart in his eyes, as he looked and looked again, and could not believehis senses. 

Furtively he darted a glance around, like one about to steal away; then, seeing Jasper Kemp's eyes upon him, settled back with a strained lookupon his face. Once he stole a look at Margaret and caught her face alltransfigured with great joy; looked again and felt rebuked somehow bythe pureness of her maiden joy and trust. 

Not once had she turned her eyes to his. He was forgotten, and somehowhe knew the look he would get if she should see him. It would becontempt and scorn that would burn his very soul. It is only a maid nowand then to whom it is given thus to pierce and bruise the soul of a manwho plays with love and trust and womanhood for selfishness. Such awoman never knows her power. She punishes all unconscious to herself. Itwas so that Margaret Earle, without being herself aware, and by her veryindifference and contempt, showed the little soul of this puppet man tohimself. 

He stole away at last when he thought no one was looking, and reachedthe back of the school-house at the open door of the girls'dressing-room, where he knew Titania would be posing in between theacts. He beckoned her to his side and began to question her in quick, eager, almost angry tones, as if the failure of their plans were herfault. Had her father been at home all day? Had anything happened--anyone been there? Did Gardley come? Had there been any report from themen? Had that short, thick-set Scotchman with the ugly grin been there?She must remember that she was the one to suggest the scheme in thefirst place, and it was her business to keep a watch. There was notelling now what might happen. He turned, and there stood Jasper Kempclose to his elbow, his short stature drawn to its full, his thick-setshoulders squaring themselves, his ugly grin standing out in boldrelief, menacingly, in the night. 

The young man let forth some words not in a gentleman's code, and turnedto leave the frightened girl, who by this time was almost crying; butJasper Kemp kept pace with Forsythe as he walked. 

"Was you addressing me?" he asked, politely; "because I could tell you afew things a sight more appropriate for you than what you just handed tome. "

Forsythe hurried around to the front of the school-house, making noreply. 

"Nice, pleasant evening to be _free_, " went on Jasper Kemp, looking upat the stars. "Rather onpleasant for some folks that have to be shut upin jail. "

Forsythe wheeled upon him. "What do you mean?" he demanded, angrily, albeit he was white with fear. 

"Oh, nothing much, " drawled Jasper, affably. "I was just thinking howmuch pleasanter it was to be a free man than shut up in prison on anight like this. It's so much healthier, you know. "

Forsythe looked at him a moment, a kind of panic of intelligence growingin his face; then he turned and went toward the back of theschool-house, where he had left his horse some hours before. 

"Where are you going?" demanded Jasper. "It's 'most time you went backto your fiddling, ain't it?"

But Forsythe answered him not a word. He was mounting his horsehurriedly--his horse, which, all unknown to him, had been many milessince he last rode him. 

"You think you have to go, then?" said Jasper, deprecatingly. "Well, now, that's a pity, seeing you was fiddling so nice an' all. Shall Itell them you've gone for your health?"

Thus recalled, Forsythe stared at his tormentor wildly for a second. "Tell her--tell her"--he muttered, hoarsely--"tell her I've been takensuddenly ill. " And he was off on a wild gallop toward the fort. 

"I'll tell her you've gone for your health!" called Jasper Kemp, withhis hands to his mouth like a megaphone. "I reckon he won't return againvery soon, either, " he chuckled. "This country's better off without suchpests as him an' that measley parson. " Then, turning, he beheld Titania, the queen of the fairies, white and frightened, staring wildly into thestarry darkness after the departed rider. "Poor little fool!" hemuttered under his breath as he looked at the girl and turned away. "Poor, pretty little fool!" Suddenly he stepped up to her side andtouched her white-clad shoulder gently. "Don't you go for to care, lassie, " he said in a tender tone. "He ain't worth a tear from yourpretty eye. He ain't fit to wipe your feet on--your pretty wee feet!"

But Rosa turned angrily and stamped her foot. 

"Go away! You bad old man!" she shrieked. "Go away! I shall tell myfather!" And she flouted herself into the school-house. 

Jasper stood looking ruefully after her, shaking his head. "The littlede'il!" he said aloud; "the poor, pretty little de'il. She'll get herdues aplenty afore she's done. " And Jasper went back to the play. 

Meantime, inside the school-house, the play went gloriously on to thefinish, and Gardley as Nick Bottom took the house by storm. Poor absentJed's father, sent by the sufferer to report it all, stood at the backof the house while tears of pride and disappointment rolled down hischeeks--pride that Jed had been so well represented, disappointment thatit couldn't have been his son up there play-acting like that. 

The hour was late when the play was over, and Margaret stood at last infront of the stage to receive the congratulations of the entirecountryside, while the young actors posed and laughed and chatteredexcitedly, then went away by two and threes, their tired, happy voicessounding back along the road. The people from the fort had been thefirst to surge around Margaret with their eager congratulations andgushing sentiments: "So sweet, my dear! So perfectly wonderful! Youreally have got some dandy actors!" And, "Why don't you try somethinglighter--something simpler, don't you know. Something really popularthat these poor people could understand and appreciate? A little farce!I could help you pick one out!"

And all the while they gushed Jasper Kemp and his men, grim andforbidding, stood like a cordon drawn about her to protect her, withGardley in the center, just behind her, as though he had a right thereand meant to stay; till at last the fort people hurried away and theschool-house grew suddenly empty with just those two and the eight menbehind; and by the door Bud, talking to Pop and Mom Wallis in thebuckboard outside. 

Amid this admiring bodyguard at last Gardley took Margaret home. Perhaps she wondered a little that they all went along, but she laid itto their pride in the play and their desire to talk it over. 

They had sent Mom and Pop Wallis home horseback, after all, and putMargaret and Gardley in the buckboard, Margaret never dreaming that itwas because Gardley was not fit to walk. Indeed, he did not realizehimself why they all stuck so closely to him. He had lived through somuch since Jasper and his men had burst into his prison and freed him, bringing him in hot haste to the school-house, with Bud wildly ridingahead. But it was enough for him to sit beside Margaret in the sweetnight and remember how she had come out to him under the stars. Her handlay beside him on the seat, and without intending it his own brushed it. Then he laid his gently, reverently, down upon hers with a quietpressure, and her smaller fingers thrilled and nestled in his grasp. 

In the shadow of a big tree beside the house he bade her good-by, themen busying themselves with turning about the buckboard noisily, and Buddiscreetly taking himself to the back door to get one of the men a drinkof water. 

"You have been suffering in some way, " said Margaret, with suddenintuition, as she looked up into Gardley's face. "You have been inperil, somehow--"

"A little, " he answered, lightly. "I'll tell you about it to-morrow. Imustn't keep the men waiting now. I shall have a great deal to tell youto-morrow--if you will let me. Good night, _Margaret_!" Their handslingered in a clasp, and then he rode away with his bodyguard. 

But Margaret did not have to wait until the morrow to hear the story, for Bud was just fairly bursting. 

Mrs. Tanner had prepared a nice little supper--more cold chicken, pie, doughnuts, coffee, some of her famous marble cake, and preserves--andshe insisted on Margaret's coming into the dining-room and eating it, though the girl would much rather have gone with her happy heart up toher own room by herself. 

Bud did not wait on ceremony. He began at once when Margaret was seated, even before his mother could get her properly waited on. 

"Well, we had _some ride_, we sure did! The Kid's a great old scout. "

Margaret perceived that this was a leader. "Why, that's so, what becameof you, William? I hunted everywhere for you. Things were prettystrenuous there for a while, and I needed you dreadfully. "

"Well, I know, " Bud apologized. "I'd oughta let you know before I went, but there wasn't time. You see, I had to pinch that guy's horse to go, and I knew it was just a chance if we could get back, anyway; but I hadto take it. You see, if I could 'a' gone right to the cabin it wouldhave been a dead cinch, but I had to ride to camp for the men, and then, taking the short trail across, it was some ride to Ouida's Cabin!"

Mrs. Tanner stepped aghast as she was cutting a piece of dried-apple piefor Margaret. "Now, Buddie--mother's boy--you don't mean to tell me_you_ went to _Ouida's Cabin_? Why, sonnie, that's an _awful place_!Don't you know your pa told you he'd whip you if you ever went on thattrail?"

"I should worry, Ma! I _had_ to go. They had Mr. Gardley tied up there, and we had to go and get him rescued. "

"_You_ had to go, Buddie--now what could _you_ do in that awful place?"Mrs. Tanner was almost reduced to tears. She saw her offspring at theedge of perdition at once. 

But Bud ignored his mother and went on with his tale. "You jest oughtaseen Jap Kemp's face when I told him what that guy said to you! Someface, b'lieve me! He saw right through the whole thing, too. I could seethat! He ner the men hadn't had a bite o' supper yet; they'd just gotback from somewheres. They thought the Kid was over here all day helpingyou. He said yesterday when he left 'em here's where he'sa-comin'"--Bud's mouth was so full he could hardly articulate--"an' whenI told 'em, he jest blew his little whistle--like what they allcarry--three times, and those men every one jest stopped right wherethey was, whatever they was doin'. Long Bill had the comb in the airgettin' ready to comb his hair, an' he left it there and come away, andBig Jim never stopped to wipe his face on the roller-towel, he just letthe wind dry it; and they all hustled on their horses fast as ever theycould and beat it after Jap Kemp. Jap, he rode alongside o' me and askedme questions. He made me tell all what the guy from the fort said overagain, three or four times, and then he ast what time he got to theschool-house, and whether the Kid had been there at all yest'iday urt'day; and a lot of other questions, and then he rode alongside each manand told him in just a few words where we was goin' and what the guyfrom the fort had said. Gee! but you'd oughta heard what the men saidwhen he told 'em! Gee! but they was some mad! Bimeby we came to thewoods round the cabin, and Jap Kemp made me stick alongside Long Bill, and he sent the men off in different directions all in a _big_ circle, and waited till each man was in his place, and then we all rode hard as wecould and came softly up round that cabin just as the sun was goin' down. Gee! but you'd oughta seen the scairt look on them women's faces; therewas two of 'em--an old un an' a skinny-looking long-drink-o'-pump-water. I guess she was a girl. I don't know. Her eyes looked real old. Therewas only three men in the cabin; the rest was off somewheres. Theywasn't looking for anybody to come that time o' day, I guess. One of themen was sick on a bunk in the corner. He had his head tied up, and hisarm, like he'd been shot, and the other two men came jumping up to thedoor with their guns, but when they saw how many men _we_ had theylooked awful scairt. _We_ all had _our_ guns out, too!--Jap Kemp gave meone to carry--" Bud tried not to swagger as he told this, but it wasalmost too much for him. "Two of our men held the horses, and all therest of us got down and went into the cabin. Jap Kemp, sounded hiswhistle and all our men done the same just as they went in thedoor--some kind of signals they have for the Lone Fox Camp! The two menin the doorway aimed straight at Jap Kemp and fired, but Jap was onto'em and jumped one side and our men fired, too, and we soon had 'em tiedup and went in--that is, Jap and me and Long Bill went in, the reststayed by the door--and it wasn't long 'fore their other men came ridingback hot haste; they'd heard the shots, you know--and some more of _our_men--why, most twenty or thirty there was, I guess, altogether; somefrom Lone Fox Camp that was watching off in the woods came and when wegot outside again there they all were, like a big army. Most of the menbelonging to the cabin was tied and harmless by that time, for our mentook 'em one at a time as they came riding in. Two of 'em got away, butJap Kemp said they couldn't go far without being caught, 'cause therewas a watch out for 'em--they'd been stealing cattle long back somethingterrible. Well, so Jap Kemp and Long Bill and I went into the cabinafter the two men that shot was tied with ropes we'd brung along, andhandcuffs, and we went hunting for the Kid. At first we couldn't findhim at all. Gee! It was something fierce! And the old woman kep'a-crying and saying we'd kill her sick son, and she didn't know nothingabout the man we was hunting for. But pretty soon I spied the Kid's footstickin' out from under the cot where the sick man was, and when I toldJap Kemp that sick man pulled out a gun he had under the blanket andaimed it right at me!"

"Oh, mother's little Buddie!" whimpered Mrs. Tanner, with her apron toher eyes. 

"_Aw, Ma_, cut it out! _he_ didn't _hurt_ me! The gun just went offcrooked, and grazed Jap Kemp's hand a little, not much. Jap knocked itout of the sick man's hand just as he was pullin' the trigger. Say, Ma, ain't you got any more of those cucumber pickles? It makes a man mightyhungry to do all that riding and shooting. Well, it certainly wassomething fierce--Say, Miss Earle, you take that last piece o' pie. Oh, g'wan! _Take_ it! _You_ worked hard. No, I don't want it, really! Well, if you won't take it _anyway_, I might eat it just to save it. Got anymore coffee, Ma?"

But Margaret was not eating. Her face was pale and her eyes were starrywith unshed tears, and she waited in patient but breathless suspense forthe vagaries of the story to work out to the finish. 

"Yes, it certainly was something fierce, that cabin, " went on thenarrator. "Why, Ma, it looked as if it had never been swept under thatcot when we hauled the Kid out. He was tied all up in knots, and greatheavy ropes wound tight from his shoulders down to his ankles. Why, theywere bound so tight they made great heavy welts in his wrists andshoulders and round his ankles when we took 'em off; and they had agreat big rag stuffed into his mouth so he couldn't yell. Gee! It wassomething fierce! He was 'most dippy, too; but Jap Kemp brought himround pretty quick and got him outside in the air. That was the worstplace I ever was in myself. You couldn't breathe, and the dirt wassomething fierce. It was like a pigpen. I sure was glad to get outdoorsagain. And then--well, the Kid came around all right and they got him ona horse and gave him something out of a bottle Jap Kemp had, and prettysoon he could ride again. Why, you'd oughta seen his nerve. He just satup there as straight, his lips all white yet and his eyes looked somequeer; but he straightened up and he looked those rascals right in theeye, and told 'em a few things, and he gave orders to the other men fromLone Fox Camp what to do with 'em; and he had the two womendisarmed--they had guns, too--and carried away, and the cabin nailed up, and a notice put on the door, and every one of those men werehandcuffed--the sick one and all--and he told 'em to bring a wagon andput the sick one's cot in and take 'em over to Ashland to the jail, andhe sent word to Mr. Rogers. Then we rode home and got to theschool-house just when you was playing the last chords of the ov'rtcher. Gee! It was some fierce ride and some _close shave_! The Kid he hadn'thad a thing to eat since Monday noon, and he was some hungry! I found asandwich on the window of the dressing-room, and he ate it while he gottogged up--'course I told him 'bout Jed soon's we left the cabin, andJap Kemp said he'd oughta go right home to camp after all he had beenthrough; but he wouldn't; he said he was goin' to _act_. So 'course hehad his way! But, gee! You could see it wasn't any cinch game for him!He 'most fell over every time after the curtain fell. You see, they gavehim some kind of drugged whisky up there at the cabin that made his headfeel queer. Say, he thinks that guy from the fort came in and looked athim once while he was asleep. He says it was only a dream, but I bet hedid. Say, Ma, ain't you gonta give me another doughnut?"

In the quiet of her chamber at last, Margaret knelt before her windowtoward the purple, shadowy mountain under the starry dome, and gavethanks for the deliverance of Gardley; while Bud, in his comfortableloft, lay down to his well-earned rest and dreamed of pirates and angelsand a hero who looked like the Kid. 

CHAPTER XXVI

The Sunday before Lance Gardley started East on his journey ofreparation two strangers slipped quietly into the back of theschool-house during the singing of the first hymn and sat down in theshadow by the door. 

Margaret was playing the piano when they came in, and did not see them, and when she turned back to her Scripture lesson she had time for butthe briefest of glances. She supposed they must be some visitors fromthe fort, as they were speaking to the captain's wife----who came overoccasionally to the Sunday service, perhaps because it afforded anopportunity for a ride with one of the young officers. These occasionalvisitors who came for amusement and curiosity had ceased to troubleMargaret. Her real work was with the men and women and children wholoved the services for their own sake, and she tried as much as possibleto forget outsiders. So, that day everything went on just as usual, Margaret putting her heart into the prayer, the simple, storylikereading of the Scripture, and the other story-sermon which followed it. Gardley sang unusually well at the close, a wonderful bit from anoratorio that he and Margaret had been practising. 

But when toward the close of the little vesper service Margaret gaveopportunity, as she often did, for others to take part in sentenceprayers, one of the strangers from the back of the room stood up andbegan to pray. And such a prayer! Heaven seemed to bend low, and earthto kneel and beseech as the stranger-man, with a face like an archangel, and a body of an athlete clothed in a brown-flannel shirt and khakis, besought the Lord of heaven for a blessing on this gathering and on theleader of this little company who had so wonderfully led them to see theChrist and their need of salvation through the lesson of the day. And itdid not need Bud's low-breathed whisper, "The missionary!" to tellMargaret who he was. His face told her. His prayer thrilled her, and hisstrong, young, true voice made her sure that here was a man of God intruth. 

When the prayer was over and Margaret stood once more shyly facing heraudience, she could scarcely keep the tremble out of her voice:

"Oh, " said she, casting aside ceremony, "if I had known the missionarywas here I should not have dared to try and lead this meeting to-day. Won't you please come up here and talk to us for a little while now, Mr. Brownleigh?"

At once he came forward eagerly, as if each opportunity were a pleasure. "Why, surely, I want to speak a word to you, just to say how glad I amto see you all, and to experience what a wonderful teacher you havefound since I went away; but I wouldn't have missed this meeting to-dayfor all the sermons I ever wrote or preached. You don't need any moresermon than the remarkable story you've just been listening to, and I'veonly one word to add; and that is, that I've found since I went awaythat Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, is just the same Jesusto me to-day that He was the last time I spoke to you. He is just asready to forgive your sin, to comfort you in sorrow, to help you intemptation, to raise your body in the resurrection, and to take you hometo a mansion in His Father's house as He was the day He hung upon thecross to save your soul from death. I've found I can rest just assecurely upon the Bible as the word of God as when I first tested itspromises. Heaven and earth may pass away, but His word shall _never_pass away. "

"_Go to it!_" said Jasper Kemp under his breath in the tone some men say"Amen!" and his brows were drawn as if he were watching a battle. Margaret couldn't help wondering if he were thinking of the Rev. Frederick West just then. 

When the service was over the missionary brought his wife forward toMargaret, and they loved each other at once. Just another sweet girllike Margaret. She was lovely, with a delicacy of feature that betokenedthe high-born and high-bred, but dressed in a dainty khaki ridingcostume, if that uncompromising fabric could ever be called dainty. Margaret, remembering it afterward, wondered what it had been that gaveit that unique individuality, and decided it was perhaps a combinationof cut and finish and little dainty accessories. A bit of creamy lace atthe throat of the rolling collar, a touch of golden-brown velvet in agolden clasp, the flash of a wonderful jewel on her finger, the modelingof the small, brown cap with its two eagle quills--all set the littlewoman apart and made her fit to enter any well-dressed company of ridersin some great city park or fashionable drive. Yet here in the wildernessshe was not overdressed. 

The eight men from the camp stood in solemn row, waiting to berecognized, and behind them, abashed and grinning with embarrassment, stood Pop and Mom Wallis, Mom with her new gray bonnet glorifying herold face till the missionary's wife had to look twice to be sure who shewas. 

"And now, surely, Hazel, we must have these dear people come over andhelp us with the singing sometimes. Can't we try something right now?"said the missionary, looking first at his wife and then at Margaret andGardley. "This man is a new-comer since I went away, but I'm mighty surehe is the right kind, and I'm glad to welcome him--or perhaps I wouldbetter ask if he will welcome me?" And with his rare smile themissionary put out his hand to Gardley, who took it with an eager grasp. The two men stood looking at each other for a moment, as rare men, rarely met, sometimes do even on a sinful earth; and after that claspand that look they turned away, brothers for life. 

That was a most interesting song rehearsal that followed. It would berare to find four voices like those even in a cultivated musical center, and they blended as if they had been made for one another. The men fromthe bunk-house and a lot of other people silently dropped again intotheir seats to listen as the four sang on. The missionary took the bass, and his wife the alto, and the four made music worth listening to. Therare and lovely thing about it was that they sang to souls, not alonefor ears, and so their music, classical though it was and of the highestorder, appealed keenly to the hearts of these rough men, and made themfeel that heaven had opened for them, as once before for untaughtshepherds, and let down a ladder of angelic voices. 

"I shall feel better about leaving you out here while I am gone, sincethey have come, " said Gardley that night when he was bidding Margaretgood night. "I couldn't bear to think there were none of your own kindabout you. The others are devoted and would do for you with their livesif need be, as far as they know; but I like you to have _realfriends_--real _Christian_ friends. This man is what I call a Christian. I'm not sure but he is the first minister that I have ever come close towho has impressed me as believing what he preaches, and living it. Isuppose there are others. I haven't known many. That man West that washere when you came was a mistake!"

"He didn't even preach much, " smiled Margaret, "so how could he live it?This man is real. And there are others. Oh, I have known a lot of themthat are living lives of sacrifice and loving service and are yet justas strong and happy and delightful as if they were millionaires. Butthey are the men who have not thrown away their Bibles and their Christ. They believe every promise in God's word, and rest on them day by day, testing them and proving them over and over. I wish you knew my father!"

"I am going to, " said Gardley, proudly. "_I_ am going to him just assoon as I have finished my business and straightened out my affairs;and I am going to tell him _everything_--with your permission, Margaret!"

"Oh, how beautiful!" cried Margaret, with happy tears in her eyes. "Tothink you are going to see father and mother. I have wanted them to knowthe real you. I couldn't half _tell_ you, the real you, in a letter!"

"Perhaps they won't look on me with your sweet blindness, dear, " hesaid, smiling tenderly down on her. "Perhaps they will see only my dark, past life--for I mean to tell your father everything. I'm not going tohave any skeletons in the closet to cause pain hereafter. Perhaps yourfather and mother will not feel like giving their daughter to me afterthey know. Remember, I realize just what a rare prize she is. "

"No, father is not like that, Lance, " said Margaret, with her rare smilelighting up her happy eyes. "Father and mother will understand. "

"But if they should not?" There was the shadow of sadness in Gardley'seyes as he asked the question. 

"I belong to you, dear, anyway, " she said, with sweet surrender. "Itrust you though the whole world were against you!"

For answer Gardley took her in his arms, a look of awe upon his face, and, stooping, laid his lips upon hers in tender reverence. 

"Margaret--you wonderful Margaret!" he said. "God has blessed me morethan other men in sending you to me! With His help I will be worthy ofyou!"

Three days more and Margaret was alone with her school work, her twomissionary friends thirty miles away, her eager watching for the mailto come, her faithful attendant Bud, and for comfort the purple mountainwith its changing glory in the distance. 

A few days before Gardley left for the East he had been offered aposition by Rogers as general manager of his estate at a fine salary, and after consultation with Margaret he decided to accept it, but thequestion of their marriage they had left by common consent unsettleduntil Gardley should return and be able to offer his future wife arecord made as fair and clean as human effort could make it after humanmistakes had unmade it. As Margaret worked and waited, wrote hercharming letters to father and mother and lover, and thought her happythoughts with only the mountain for confidant, she did not plan for thefuture except in a dim and dreamy way. She would make those plans withGardley when he returned. Probably they must wait some time before theycould be married. Gardley would have to earn some money, and she mustearn, too. She must keep the Ashland School for another year. It hadbeen rather understood, when she came out, that if at all possible shewould remain two years at least. It was hard to think of not going homefor the summer vacation; but the trip cost a great deal and was not tobe thought of. There was already a plan suggested to have a summersession of the school, and if that went through, of course she must stayright in Ashland. It was hard to think of not seeing her father andmother for another long year, but perhaps Gardley would be returningbefore the summer was over, and then it would not be so hard. However, she tried to put these thoughts out of her mind and do her work happily. It was incredible that Arizona should have become suddenly so blank anduninteresting since the departure of a man whom she had not known a fewshort months before. 

Margaret had long since written to her father and mother about Gardley'sfirst finding her in the desert. The thing had become history and wasnot likely to alarm them. She had been in Arizona long enough to beacquainted with things, and they would not be always thinking of her assitting on stray water-tanks in the desert; so she told them about it, for she wanted them to know Gardley as he had been to her. The lettersthat had traveled back and forth between New York and Arizona had beenfull of Gardley; and still Margaret had not told her parents how it wasbetween them. Gardley had asked that he might do that. Yet it had been ablind father and mother who had not long ago read between the lines ofthose letters and understood. Margaret fancied she detected a certainsense of relief in her mother's letters after she knew that Gardley hadgone East. Were they worrying about him, she wondered, or was it justthe natural dread of a mother to lose her child?

So Margaret settled down to school routine, and more and more made aconfidant of Bud concerning little matters of the school. If it had notbeen for Bud at that time Margaret would have been lonely indeed. 

Two or three times since Gardley left, the Brownleighs had ridden overto Sunday service, and once had stopped for a few minutes during theweek on their way to visit some distant need. These occasions were adelight to Margaret, for Hazel Brownleigh was a kindred spirit. She waslooking forward with pleasure to the visit she was to make them at themission station as soon as school closed. She had been there once withGardley before he left, but the ride was too long to go often, and theonly escort available was Bud. Besides, she could not get away fromschool and the Sunday service at present; but it was pleasant to havesomething to look forward to. 

Meantime the spring Commencement was coming on and Margaret had herhands full. She had undertaken to inaugurate a real Commencement withclass day and as much form and ceremony as she could introduce in orderto create a good school spirit; but such things are not done with theturn of a hand, and the young teacher sadly missed Gardley in all thesepreparations. 

At this time Rosa Rogers was Margaret's particular thorn in the flesh. 

Since the night that Forsythe had quit the play and ridden forth intothe darkness Rosa had regarded her teacher with baleful eyes. Gardley, too, she hated, and was only waiting with smoldering wrath until herwild, ungoverned soul could take its revenge. She felt that but forthose two Forsythe would still have been with her. 

Margaret, realizing the passionate, untaught nature of the motherlessgirl and her great need of a friend to guide her, made attempt afterattempt to reach and befriend her; but every attempt was met withrepulse and the sharp word of scorn. Rosa had been too long the petteddarling of a father who was utterly blind to her faults to be other thanspoiled. Her own way was the one thing that ruled her. By her will shehad ruled every nurse and servant about the place, and wheedled herfather into letting her do anything the whim prompted. Twice her father, through the advice of friends, had tried the experiment of sending heraway to school, once to an Eastern finishing school, and once to aconvent on the Pacific coast, only to have her return shortly by requestof the school, more wilful than when she had gone away. And now sheruled supreme in her father's home, disliked by most of the servantssave those whom she chose to favor because they could be made to serveher purposes. Her father, engrossed in his business and away much of thetime, was bound up in her and saw few of her faults. It is true thatwhen a fault of hers did come to his notice, however, he dealt with itmost severely, and grieved over it in secret, for the girl was much likethe mother whose loss had emptied the world of its joy for him. But Rosaknew well how to manage her father and wheedle him, and also how to hideher own doings from his knowledge. 

Rosa's eyes, dimples, pink cheeks, and coquettish little mouth were notidle in these days. She knew how to have every pupil at her feet andready to obey her slightest wish. She wielded her power to its fullestextent as the summer drew near, and day after day saw a slow torture forMargaret. Some days the menacing air of insurrection fairly bristled inthe room, and Margaret could not understand how some of her most devotedfollowers seemed to be in the forefront of battle, until one day shelooked up quickly and caught the lynx-eyed glance of Rosa as she turnedfrom smiling at the boys in the back seat. Then she understood. Rosa hadcast her spell upon the boys, and they were acting under it and not oftheir own clear judgment. It was the world-old battle of sex, of womanagainst woman for the winning of the man to do her will. Margaret, usingall the charm of her lovely personality to uphold standards of right, truth, purity, high living, and earnest thinking; Rosa striving with herimpish beauty to lure them into _any_ mischief so it foiled the other'spurposes. And one day Margaret faced the girl alone, looking steadilyinto her eyes with sad, searching gaze, and almost a yearning to try tolead the pretty child to finer things. 

"Rosa, why do you always act as if I were your enemy?" she said, sadly. 

"Because you are!" said Rosa, with a toss of her independent head. 

"Indeed I'm not, dear child, " she said, putting out her hand to lay iton the girl's shoulder kindly. "I want to be your friend. "

"I'm not a child!" snapped Rosa, jerking her shoulder angrily away; "andyou can _never_ be my friend, because I _hate_ you!"

"Rosa, look here!" said Margaret, following the girl toward the door, the color rising in her cheeks and a desire growing in her heart toconquer this poor, passionate creature and win her for better things. "Rosa, I cannot have you say such things. Tell me why you hate me? Whathave I done that you should feel that way? I'm sure if we should talk itover we might come to some better understanding. "

Rosa stood defiant in the doorway. "We could never come to any betterunderstanding, Miss Earle, " she declared in a cold, hard tone, "becauseI understand you now and I hate you. You tried your best to get myfriend away from me, but you couldn't do it; and you would like to keepme from having any boy friends at all, but you can't do that, either. You think you are very popular, but you'll find out I always do what Ilike, and you needn't try to stop me. I don't have to come to schoolunless I choose, and as long as I don't break your rules you have nocomplaint coming; but you needn't think you can pull the wool over myeyes the way you do the others by pretending to be friends. I won't befriends! I hate you!" And Rosa turned grandly and marched out of theschool-house. 

Margaret stood gazing sadly after her and wondering if her failure herewere her fault--if there was anything else she ought to have done--ifshe had let her personal dislike of the girl influence her conduct. Shesat for some time at her desk, her chin in her hands, her eyes fixed onvacancy with a hopeless, discouraged expression in them, before shebecame aware of another presence in the room. Looking around quickly, she saw that Bud was sitting motionless at his desk, his foreheadwrinkled in a fierce frown, his jaw set belligerently, and a look ofsuch, unutterable pity and devotion in his eyes that her heart warmed tohim at once and a smile of comradeship broke over her face. 

"Oh, William! Were you here? Did you hear all that? What do you supposeis the matter? Where have I failed?"

"You 'ain't failed anywhere! You should worry 'bout her! She's a nut! Ifshe was a boy I'd punch her head for her! But seeing she's only a girl, _you should worry_! She always was the limit!"

Bud's tone was forcible. He was the only one of all the boys who neveryielded to Rosa's charms, but sat in glowering silence when sheexercised her powers on the school and created pandemonium for theteacher. Bud's attitude was comforting. It had a touch of manliness andgentleness about it quite unwonted for him. It suggested beautifulpossibilities for the future of his character, and Margaret smiledtenderly. 

"Thank you, dear boy!" she said, gently. "You certainly are a comfort. If every one was as splendid as you are we should have a model school. But I do wish I could help Rosa. I can't see why she should hate me so!I must have made some big mistake with her in the first place toantagonize her. "

"Naw!" said Bud, roughly. "No chance! She's just a _nut_, that's all. She's got a case on that Forsythe guy, the worst kind, and she's afraidsomebody 'll get him away from her, the poor stew, as if anybody wouldget a case on a tough guy like that! Gee! You should worry! Come on, let's take a ride over t' camp!"

With a sigh and a smile Margaret accepted Bud's consolations and went onher way, trying to find some manner of showing Rosa what a real friendshe was willing to be. But Rosa continued obdurate and hateful, regarding her teacher with haughty indifference except when she wascalled upon to recite, which she did sometimes with scornfulcondescension, sometimes with pert perfection, and sometimes with saucyhumor which convulsed the whole room. Margaret's patience was almostceasing to be a virtue, and she meditated often whether she ought not torequest that the girl be withdrawn from the school. Yet she reflectedthat it was a very short time now until Commencement, and that Rosa hadnot openly defied any rules. It was merely a personal antagonism. Then, too, if Rosa were taken from the school there was really no other goodinfluence in the girl's life at present. Day by day Margaret prayedabout the matter and hoped that something would develop to make plainher way. 

After much thought in the matter she decided to go on with her plans, letting Rosa have her place in the Commencement program and her part inthe class-day doings as if nothing were the matter. Certainly there wasnothing laid down in the rules of a public school that proscribed ascholar who did not love her teacher. Why should the fact that one hadincurred the hate of a pupil unfit that pupil for her place in her classso long as she did her duties? And Rosa did hers promptly and deftly, with a certain piquant originality that Margaret could not help butadmire. 

Sometimes, as the teacher cast a furtive look at the pretty girl workingaway at her desk, she wondered what was going on behind the lovely mask. But the look in Rosa's eyes, when she raised them, was both deep andsly. 

Rosa's hatred was indeed deep rooted. Whatever heart she had notfrivoled away in wilfulness had been caught and won by Forsythe, thefirst grown man who had ever dared to make real love to her. Herjealousy of Margaret was the most intense thing that had ever come intoher life. To think of him looking at Margaret, talking to Margaret, smiling at Margaret, walking or riding with Margaret, was enough to sendher writhing upon her bed in the darkness of a wakeful night. She wouldclench her pretty hands until the nails dug into the flesh and broughtthe blood. She would bite the pillow or the blankets with an almostfiendish clenching of her teeth upon them and mutter, as she did so: "Ihate her! I _hate_ her! I could _kill_ her!"

The day her first letter came from Forsythe, Rosa held her head high andwent about the school as if she were a princess royal and Margaret werethe dust under her feet. Triumph sat upon her like a crown and lookedforth regally from her eyes. She laid her hand upon her heart and feltthe crackle of his letter inside her blouse. She dreamed with her eyesupon the distant mountain and thought of the tender names he had calledher: "Little wild Rose of his heart, " "No rose in all the world untilyou came, " and a lot of other meaningful sentences. A real love-letterall her own! No sharing him with any hateful teachers! He had implied inher letter that she was the only one of all the people in that regionto whom he cared to write. He had said he was coming back some day toget her. Her young, wild heart throbbed exultantly, and her eyes lookedforth their triumph malignantly. When he did come she would take carethat he stayed close by her. No conceited teacher from the East shouldlure him from her side. She would prepare her guiles and smile hersweetest. She would wear fine garments from abroad, and show him shecould far outshine that quiet, common Miss Earle, with all her airs. Yetto this end she studied hard. It was no part of her plan to be leftbehind at graduating-time. She would please her father by taking aprominent part in things and outdoing all the others. Then he would giveher what she liked--jewels and silk dresses, and all the things a girlshould have who had won a lover like hers. 

The last busy days before Commencement were especially trying forMargaret. It seemed as if the children were possessed with the veryspirit of mischief, and she could not help but see that it was Rosa who, sitting demurely in her desk, was the center of it all. Only Bud'ssteady, frowning countenance of all that rollicking, roistering crowdkept loyalty with the really beloved teacher. For, indeed, they lovedher, every one but Rosa, and would have stood by her to a man and girlwhen it really came to the pinch, but in a matter like a little bit offun in these last few days of school, and when challenged to it by theschool beauty who did not usually condescend to any but a few of theolder boys, where was the harm? They were so flattered by Rosa's smilesthat they failed to see Margaret's worn, weary wistfulness. 

Bud, coming into the school-house late one afternoon in search of herafter the other scholars had gone, found Margaret with her head downupon the desk and her shoulders shaken with soundless sobs. He stood fora second silent in the doorway, gazing helplessly at her grief, thenwith the delicacy of one boy for another he slipped back outside thedoor and stood in the shadow, grinding his teeth. 

"Gee!" he said, under his breath. "Oh, gee! I'd like to punch her foolhead. I don't care if she is a girl! She needs it. Gee! if she was a boywouldn't I settle her, the little darned mean sneak!"

His remarks, it is needless to say, did not have reference to hisbeloved teacher. 

It was in the atmosphere everywhere that something was bound to happenif this strain kept up. Margaret knew it and felt utterly inadequate tomeet it. Rosa knew it and was awaiting her opportunity. Bud knew it andcould only stand and watch where the blow was to strike first and beready to ward it off. In these days he wished fervently for Gardley'sreturn. He did not know just what Gardley could do about "that littlefool, " as he called Rosa, but it would be a relief to be able to tellsome one all about it. If he only dared leave he would go over and tellJasper Kemp about it, just to share his burden with somebody. But as itwas he must stick to the job for the present and bear his greatresponsibility, and so the days hastened by to the last Sunday beforeCommencement, which was to be on Monday. 

CHAPTER XXVII

Margaret had spent Saturday in rehearsals, so that there had been norest for her. Sunday morning she slept late, and awoke from a troubleddream, unrested. She almost meditated whether she would not ask some oneto read a sermon at the afternoon service and let her go on sleeping. Then a memory of the lonely old woman at the camp, and the men, who cameso regularly to the service, roused her to effort once more, and shearose and tried to prepare a little something for them. 

She came into the school-house at the hour, looking fagged, with darkcircles under her eyes; and the loving eyes of Mom Wallis already in herfront seat watched her keenly. 

"It's time for _him_ to come back, " she said, in her heart. "She'sgettin' peeked! I wisht he'd come!"

Margaret had hoped that Rosa would not come. The girl was not alwaysthere, but of late she had been quite regular, coming in late with herfather just a little after the story had begun, and attracting attentionby her smiles and bows and giggling whispers, which sometimes were soaudible as to create quite a diversion from the speaker. 

But Rosa came in early to-day and took a seat directly in front ofMargaret, in about the middle of the house, fixing her eyes on herteacher with a kind of settled intention that made Margaret shrink as iffrom a danger she was not able to meet. There was something bright andhard and daring in Rosa's eyes as she stared unwinkingly, as if she hadcome to search out a weak spot for her evil purposes, and Margaret wasso tired she wanted to lay her head down on her desk and cry. She drewsome comfort from the reflection that if she should do so childish athing she would be at once surrounded by a strong battalion of friendsfrom the camp, who would shield her with their lives if necessary. 

It was silly, of course, and she must control this choking in herthroat, only how was she ever going to talk, with Rosa looking at herthat way? It was like a nightmare pursuing her. She turned to the pianoand kept them all singing for a while, so that she might pray in herheart and grow calm; and when, after her brief, earnest prayer, shelifted her eyes to the audience, she saw with intense relief that theBrownleighs were in the audience. 

She started a hymn that they all knew, and when they were well in themidst of the first verse she slipped from the piano-stool and walkedswiftly down the aisle to Brownleigh's side. 

"Would you please talk to them a little while?" she pleaded, wistfully. "I am so tired I feel as if I just couldn't, to-day. "

Instantly Brownleigh followed her back to the desk and took her place, pulling out his little, worn Bible and opening it with familiar fingersto a beloved passage:

 "'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. '"

The words fell on Margaret's tired heart like balm, and she rested herhead back against the wall and closed her eyes to listen. Sitting soaway from Rosa's stare, she could forget for a while the absurd burdensthat had got on her nerves, and could rest down hard upon her Saviour. Every word that the man of God spoke seemed meant just for her, andbrought strength, courage, and new trust to her heart. She forgot thelittle crowd of other listeners and took the message to herself, drinking it in eagerly as one who has been a long time ministeringaccepts a much-needed ministry. When she moved to the piano again forthe closing hymn she felt new strength within her to bear the trials ofthe week that were before her. She turned, smiling and brave, to speakto those who always crowded around to shake hands and have a word beforeleaving. 

Hazel, putting a loving arm around her as soon as she could get up tothe front, began to speak soothingly: "You poor, tired child!" she said;"you are almost worn to a frazzle. You need a big change, and I'm goingto plan it for you just as soon as I possibly can. How would you like togo with us on our trip among the Indians? Wouldn't it be great? It'll beseveral days, depending on how far we go, but John wants to visit theHopi reservation, if possible, and it'll be so interesting. They are amost strange people. We'll have a delightful trip, sleeping out underthe stars, you know. Don't you just love it? I do. I wouldn't miss itfor the world. I can't be sure, for a few days yet, when we can go, forJohn has to make a journey in the other direction first, and he isn'tsure when he can return; but it might be this week. How soon can youcome to us? How I wish we could take you right home with us to-night. You need to get away and rest. But your Commencement is to-morrow, isn'tit? I'm so sorry we can't be here, but this other matter is important, and John has to go early in the morning. Some one very sick who wants tosee him before he dies--an old Indian who didn't know a thing aboutJesus till John found him one day. I suppose you haven't anybody whocould bring you over to us after your work is done here to-morrow nightor Tuesday, have you? Well, we'll see if we can't find some one to sendfor you soon. There's an old Indian who often comes this way, but he'saway buying cattle. Maybe John can think of a way we could send for youearly in the week. Then you would be ready to go with us on the trip. You would like to go, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, so much!" said Margaret, with a sigh of wistfulness. "I can't thinkof anything pleasanter!"

Margaret turned suddenly, and there, just behind her, almost touchingher, stood Rosa, that strange, baleful gleam in her eyes like a serpentwho was biding her time, drawing nearer and nearer, knowing she had hervictim where she could not move before she struck. 

It was a strange fancy, of course, and one that was caused by sicknerves, but Margaret drew back and almost cried out, as if for some oneto protect her. Then her strong common sense came to the rescue and sherallied and smiled at Rosa a faint little sorry smile. It was hard tosmile at the bright, baleful face with the menace in the eyes. 

Hazel was watching her. "You poor child! You're quite worn out! I'mafraid you're going to be sick. "

"Oh no, " said Margaret, trying to speak cheerfully; "things have justgot on my nerves, that's all. It's been a particularly trying time. Ishall be all right when to-morrow night is over. "

"Well, we're going to send for you very soon, so be ready!" and Hazelfollowed her husband, waving her hand in gay parting. 

Rosa was still standing just behind her when Margaret turned back to herdesk, and the younger girl gave her one last dagger look, a glitter inher eyes so sinister and vindictive that Margaret felt a shudder runthrough her whole body, and was glad that just then Rosa's father calledto her that they must be starting home. Only one more day now of Rosa, and she would be done with her, perhaps forever. The girl was throughthe school course and was graduating. It was not likely she would returnanother year. Her opportunity was over to help her. She had failed. Why, she couldn't tell, but she had strangely failed, and all she asked nowwas not to have to endure the hard, cold, young presence any longer. 

"Sick nerves, Margaret!" she said to herself. "Go home and go to bed. You'll be all right to-morrow!" And she locked the school-house door andwalked quietly home with the faithful Bud. 

The past month had been a trying time also for Rosa. Young, wild, andmotherless, passionate, wilful and impetuous, she was finding lifetremendously exciting just now. With no one to restrain her or warn hershe was playing with forces that she did not understand. 

She had subjugated easily all the boys in school, keeping them exactlywhere she wanted them for her purpose, and using methods that would havedone credit to a woman of the world. But by far the greatest force inher life was her infatuation for Forsythe. 

The letters had traveled back and forth many times between them sinceForsythe wrote that first love-letter. He found a whimsical pleasure inher deep devotion and naïve readiness to follow as far as he cared tolead her. He realized that, young as she was, she was no innocent, whichmade the acquaintance all the more interesting. He, meantime, idled awaya few months on the Pacific coast, making mild love to a rich Californiagirl and considering whether or not he was ready yet to settle down. 

In the mean time his correspondence with Rosa took on such a nature thathis volatile, impulsive nature was stirred with a desire to see heragain. It was not often that once out of sight he looked back to avictim, but Rosa had shown a daring and a spirit in her letters thatsent a challenge to his sated senses. Moreover, the California heiresswas going on a journey; besides, an old enemy of his who knew altogethertoo much of his past had appeared on the scene; and as Gardley had beenremoved from the Ashland vicinity for a time, Forsythe felt it might besafe to venture back again. There was always that pretty, spiritedlittle teacher if Rosa failed to charm. But why should Rosa not charm?And why should he not yield? Rosa's father was a good sort and had allkinds of property. Rosa was her father's only heir. On the whole, Forsythe decided that the best move he could make next would be toreturn to Arizona. If things turned out well he might even think ofmarrying Rosa. 

This was somewhat the train of thought that led Forsythe at last towrite to Rosa that he was coming, throwing Rosa into a panic of joy andalarm. For Rosa's father had been most explicit about her ever going outwith Forsythe again. It had been the most relentless command he had everlaid upon her, spoken in a tone she hardly ever disobeyed. Moreover, Rosa was fearfully jealous of Margaret. If Forsythe should come andbegin to hang around the teacher Rosa felt she would go wild, or dosomething terrible, perhaps even kill somebody. She shut her sharplittle white teeth fiercely down into her red under lip and vowed withflashing eyes that he should never see Margaret again if power of herscould prevent it. 

The letter from Forsythe had reached her on Saturday evening, and shehad come to the Sunday service with the distinct idea of trying to planhow she might get rid of Margaret. It would be hard enough to evade herfather's vigilance if he once found out the young man had returned; butto have him begin to go and see Margaret again was a thing she could notand would not stand. 

The idea obsessed her to the exclusion of all others, and made her watchher teacher as if by her very concentration of thought upon her some wayout of the difficulty might be evolved; as if Margaret herself mightgive forth a hint of weakness somewhere that would show her how to plan. 

To that intent she had come close in the group with the others aroundthe teacher at the close of meeting, and, so standing, had overheard allthat the Brownleighs had said. The lightning flash of triumph that shecast at Margaret as she left the school-house was her own signal thatshe had found a way at last. Her opportunity had come, and just in time. Forsythe was to arrive in Arizona some time on Tuesday, and wanted Rosato meet him at one of their old trysting-places, out some distance fromher father's house. He knew that school would just be over, for she hadwritten him about Commencement, and so he understood that she would befree. But he did not know that the place he had selected to meet her wason one of Margaret's favorite trails where she and Bud often rode in thelate afternoons, and that above all things Rosa wished to avoid anydanger of meeting her teacher; for she not only feared that Forsythe'sattention would be drawn away from her, but also that Margaret mightfeel it her duty to report to her father about her clandestine meeting. 

Rosa's heart beat high as she rode demurely home with her father, answering his pleasantries with smiles and dimples and a coaxing word, just as he loved to have her. But she was not thinking of her father, though she kept well her mask of interest in what he had to say. She wastrying to plan how she might use what she had heard to get rid ofMargaret Earle. If only Mrs. Brownleigh would do as she had hinted andsend some one Tuesday morning to escort Miss Earle over to her home, allwould be clear sailing for Rosa; but she dared not trust to such apossibility. There were not many escorts coming their way from Ganado, and Rosa happened to know that the old Indian who frequently escortedparties was off in another direction. She could not rest on any suchhope. When she reached home she went at once to her room and sat besideher window, gazing off at the purple mountains in deep thought. Then shelighted a candle and went in search of a certain little Testament, longsince neglected and covered with dust. She found it at last on the topof a pile of books in a dark closet, and dragged it forth, eagerlyturning the pages. Yes, there it was, and in it a small envelopedirected to "Miss Rosa Rogers" in a fine angular handwriting. The letterwas from the missionary's wife to the little girl who had recited hertexts so beautifully as to earn the Testament. 

Rosa carried it to her desk, secured a good light, and sat down to readit over carefully. 

No thought of her innocent childish exultation over that letter came toher now. She was intent on one thing--the handwriting. Could she seizethe secret of it and reproduce it? She had before often done so withgreat success. She could imitate Miss Earle's writing so perfectly thatshe often took an impish pleasure in changing words in the questions onthe blackboard and making them read absurdly for the benefit of theschool. It was such good sport to see the amazement on Margaret's facewhen her attention would be called to it by a hilarious class, and towatch her troubled brow when she read what she supposed she had written. 

When Rosa was but a little child she used to boast that she could writeher father's name in perfect imitation of his signature; and oftensigned some trifling receipt for him just for amusement. A dangerousgift in the hands of a conscienceless girl! Yet this was the first timethat Rosa had really planned to use her art in any serious way. Perhapsit never occurred to her that she was doing wrong. At present her heartwas too full of hate and fear and jealous love to care for right orwrong or anything else. It is doubtful if she would have hesitated asecond even if the thing she was planning had suddenly appeared to herin the light of a great crime. She seemed sometimes almost like acreature without moral sense, so swayed was she by her own desires andfeelings. She was blind now to everything but her great desire to getMargaret out of the way and have Forsythe to herself. 

Long after her father and the servants were asleep Rosa's light burnedwhile she bent over her desk, writing. Page after page she covered withcareful copies of Mrs. Brownleigh's letter written to herself almostthree years before. Finally she wrote out the alphabet, bit by bit asshe picked it from the words, learning just how each letter washabitually formed, the small letters and the capitals, with thepeculiarities of connection and ending. At last, when she lay down torest, she felt herself capable of writing a pretty fair letter in Mrs. Brownleigh's handwriting. The next thing was to make her plan andcompose her letter. She lay staring into the darkness and trying tothink just what she could do. 

In the first place, she settled it that Margaret must be gotten to Walpiat least. It would not do to send her to Ganado, where the missionstation was, for that was a comparatively short journey, and she couldeasily go in a day. When the fraud was discovered, as of course it wouldbe when Mrs. Brownleigh heard of it, Margaret would perhaps return tofind out who had done it. No, she must be sent all the way to Walpi ifpossible. That would take at least two nights and the most of two daysto get there. Forsythe had said his stay was to be short. By the timeMargaret got back from Walpi Forsythe would be gone. 

But how manage to get her to Walpi without her suspicions being aroused?She might word the note so that Margaret would be told to come half-way, expecting to meet the missionaries, say at Keams. There was a trailstraight up from Ashland to Keams, cutting off quite a distance andleaving Ganado off at the right. Keams was nearly forty miles west ofGanado. That would do nicely. Then if she could manage to have anothernote left at Keams, saying they could not wait and had gone on, Margaretwould suspect nothing and go all the way to Walpi. That would be fineand would give the school-teacher an interesting experience whichwouldn't hurt her in the least. Rosa thought it might be ratherinteresting than otherwise. She had no compunctions whatever about howMargaret might feel when she arrived in that strange Indian town andfound no friends awaiting her. Her only worry was where she was to finda suitable escort, for she felt assured that Margaret would not startout alone with one man servant on an expedition that would keep her outovernight. And where in all that region could she find a woman whom shecould trust to send on the errand? It almost looked as though the thingwere an impossibility. She lay tossing and puzzling over it till graydawn stole into the room. She mentally reviewed every servant on theplace on whom she could rely to do her bidding and keep her secret, butthere was some reason why each one would not do. She scanned thecountry, even considering old Ouida, who had been living in a shack overbeyond the fort ever since her cabin had been raided; but old Ouida wastoo notorious. Mrs. Tanner would keep Margaret from going with her, evenif Margaret herself did not know the old woman's reputation. Rosaconsidered if there were any way of wheedling Mom Wallis into theaffair, and gave that up, remembering the suspicious little twinklingeyes of Jasper Kemp. At last she fell asleep, with her plan stillunformed but her determination to carry it through just as strong asever. If worst came to worst she would send the half-breed cook from theranch kitchen and put something in the note about his expecting to meethis sister an hour's ride out on the trail. The half-breed would doanything in the world for money, and Rosa had no trouble in getting allshe wanted of that commodity. But the half-breed was an evil-lookingfellow, and she feared lest Margaret would not like to go with him. However, he should be a last resort. She would not be balked in herpurpose. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

Rosa awoke very early, for her sleep had been light and troubled. Shedressed hastily and sat down to compose a note which could be alteredslightly in case she found some one better than the half-breed; butbefore she was half through the phrasing she heard a slight disturbancebelow her window and a muttering in guttural tones from a strange voice. Glancing hastily out, she saw some Indians below, talking with one ofthe men, who was shaking his head and motioning to them that they mustgo on, that this was no place for them to stop. The Indian motioned tohis squaw, sitting on a dilapidated little moth-eaten burro with a smallpapoose in her arms and looking both dirty and miserable. He muttered asthough he were pleading for something. 

We believe that God's angels follow the feet of little children andneedy ones to protect them; does the devil also send his angels to leadunwary ones astray, and to protect the plan's of the erring ones? If sothen he must have sent these Indians that morning to further Rosa'splans, and instantly she recognized her opportunity. She leaned out ofher window and spoke in a clear, reproving voice:

"James, what does he want? Breakfast? You know father wouldn't want anyhungry person to be turned away. Let them sit down on the bench thereand tell Dorset I said to give them a good hot breakfast, and get somemilk for the baby. Be quick about it, too!"

James started and frowned at the clear, commanding voice. The squawturned grateful animal eyes up to the little beauty in the window, muttering some inarticulate thanks, while the stolid Indian's eyesglittered hopefully, though the muscles of his mask-like countenancechanged not an atom. 

Rosa smiled radiantly and ran down to see that her orders were obeyed. She tried to talk a little with the squaw, but found she understood verylittle English. The Indian spoke better and gave her their brief story. They were on their way to the Navajo reservation to the far north. Theyhad been unfortunate enough to lose their last scanty provisions byprowling coyotes during the night, and were in need of food. Rosa gavethem a place to sit down and a plentiful breakfast, and ordered that asmall store of provisions should be prepared for their journey afterthey had rested. Then she hurried up to her room to finish her letter. She had her plan well fixed now. These strangers should be her willingmessengers. Now and then, as she wrote she lifted her head and gazed outof the window, where she could see the squaw busy with her little one, and her eyes fairly glittered with satisfaction. Nothing could have beenbetter planned than this. 

She wrote her note carefully:

 DEAR MARGARET [she had heard Hazel call Margaret by her first name, and rightly judged that their new friendship was already strong enough to justify this intimacy], --I have found just the opportunity I wanted for you to come to us. These Indians are thoroughly trustworthy and are coming in just the direction to bring you to a point where we will meet you. We have decided to go on to Walpi at once, and will probably meet you near Keams, or a little farther on. The Indian knows the way, and you need not be afraid. I trust him perfectly. Start at once, please, so that you will meet us in time. John has to go on as fast as possible. I know you will enjoy the trip, and am so glad you are coming. 

 Lovingly, HAZEL RADCLIFFE BROWNLEIGH. 

Rosa read it over, comparing it carefully with the little yellow notefrom her Testament, and decided that it was a very good imitation. Shecould almost hear Mrs. Brownleigh saying what she had written. Rosareally was quite clever. She had done it well. 

She hastily sealed and addressed her letter, and then hurried down totalk with the Indians again. 

The place she had ordered for them to rest was at some distance from thekitchen door, a sort of outshed for the shelter of certain implementsused about the ranch. A long bench ran in front of it, and a big treemade a goodly shade. The Indians had found their temporary camp quiteinviting. 

Rosa made a detour of the shed, satisfied herself that no one was withinhearing, and then sat down on the bench, ostensibly playing with thepapoose, dangling a red ball on a ribbon before his dazzled, bead-likeeyes and bringing forth a gurgle of delight from the dusky little mummy. While she played she talked idly with the Indians. Had they money enoughfor their journey? Would they like to earn some? Would they act asguide to a lady who wanted to go to Walpi? At least she wanted to go asfar as Keams, where she might meet friends, missionaries, who were goingon with her to Walpi to visit the Indians. If they didn't meet her shewanted to be guided all the way to Walpi? Would they undertake it? Itwould pay them well. They would get money enough for their journey andhave some left when they got to the reservation. And Rosa displayed twogold pieces temptingly in her small palms. 

The Indian uttered a guttural sort of gasp at sight of so much money, and sat upright. He gasped again, indicating by a solemn nod that he wasagreeable to the task before him, and the girl went gaily on with herinstructions:

"You will have to take some things along to make the lady comfortable. Iwill see that those are got ready. Then you can have the things for yourown when you leave the lady at Walpi. You will have to take a letter tothe lady and tell her you are going this afternoon, and she must beready to start at once or she will not meet the missionary. Tell her youcan only wait until three o'clock to start. You will find the lady atthe school-house at noon. You must not come till noon--" Rosa pointed tothe sun and then straight overhead. The Indian watched her keenly andnodded. 

"You must ask for Miss Earle and give her this letter. She is theschool-teacher. "

The Indian grunted and looked at the white missive in Rosa's hand, noting once more the gleam of the gold pieces. 

"You must wait till the teacher goes to her boarding-house and packs herthings and eats her dinner. If anybody asks where you came from you mustsay the missionary's wife from Ganado sent you. Don't tell anybodyanything else. Do you understand? More money if you don't say anything?"Rosa clinked the gold pieces softly. 

The strange, sphinx-like gaze of the Indian narrowed comprehensively. Heunderstood. His native cunning was being bought for this girl's ownpurposes. He looked greedily at the money. Rosa had put her hand in herpocket and brought out yet another gold piece. 

"See! I give you this one now"--she laid one gold piece in the Indian'shand--"and these two I put in an envelope and pack with some provisionsand blankets on another horse. I will leave the horse tied to a tree upwhere the big trail crosses this big trail out that way. You know?"

Rosa pointed in the direction she meant, and the Indian looked andgrunted, his eyes returning to the two gold pieces in her hand. It was agreat deal of money for the little lady to give. Was she trying to cheathim? He looked down at the gold he already held. It was good money. Hewas sure of that. He looked at her keenly. 

"I shall be watching and I shall know whether you have the lady or not, "went on the girl, sharply. "If you do not bring the lady with you therewill be no money and no provisions waiting for you. But if you bring thelady you can untie the horse and take him with you. You will need thehorse to carry the things. When you get to Walpi you can set him free. He is branded and he will likely come back. We shall find him. See, Iwill put the gold pieces in this tin can. "

She picked up a sardine-tin that lay at her feet, slipped the goldpieces in an envelope from her pocket, stuffed it in the tin, bent downthe cover, and held it up. 

"This can will be packed on the top of the other provisions, and you canopen it and take the money out when you untie the horse. Then hurry onas fast as you can and get as far along the trail as possible to-nightbefore you camp. Do you understand?"

The Indian nodded once more, and Rosa felt that she had a confederateworthy of her need. 

She stayed a few minutes more, going carefully over her directions, telling the Indian to be sure his squaw was kind to the lady, and thaton no account he should let the lady get uneasy or have cause tocomplain of her treatment, or trouble would surely come to him. At lastshe felt sure she had made him understand, and she hurried away to slipinto her pretty white dress and rose-colored ribbons and ride to school. Before she left her room she glanced out of the window at the Indians, and saw them sitting motionless, like a group of bronze. Once the Indianstirred and, putting his hand in his bosom, drew forth the white lettershe had given him, gazed at it a moment, and hid it in his breast again. She nodded her satisfaction as she turned from the window. The nextthing was to get to school and play her own part in the Commencementexercises. 

The morning was bright, and the school-house was already filled tooverflowing when Rosa arrived. Her coming, as always, made a little stiramong admiring groups, for even those who feared her admired her fromafar. She fluttered into the school-house and up the aisle with the airof a princess who knew she had been waited for and was condescending tocome at all. 

Rosa was in everything--the drills, the march, the choruses, and thecrowning oration. She went through it all with the perfection of abright mind and an adaptable nature. One would never have dreamed, tolook at her pretty dimpling face and her sparkling eyes, what diabolicalthings were moving in her mind, nor how those eyes, lynx-soft withlurking sweetness and treachery, were watching all the time furtivelyfor the appearance of the old Indian. 

At last she saw him, standing in a group just outside the window nearthe platform, his tall form and stern countenance marking him among thecrowd of familiar faces. She was receiving her diploma from the hand ofMargaret when she caught his eye, and her hand trembled just a quiver asshe took the dainty roll tied with blue and white ribbons. That herecognized her she was sure; that he knew she did not wish him to makeknown his connection with her she felt equally convinced he understood. His eye had that comprehending look of withdrawal. She did not look updirectly at him again. Her eyes were daintily downward. Nevertheless, she missed not a turn of his head, not a glance from that stern eye, andshe knew the moment when he stood at the front door of the school-housewith the letter in his hand, stolid and indifferent, yet a great forceto be reckoned with. 

Some one looked at the letter, pointed to Margaret, called her, and shecame. Rosa was not far away all the time, talking with Jed; her eyesdowncast, her cheeks dimpling, missing nothing that could be heard orseen. 

Margaret read the letter. Rosa watched her, knew every curve of everyletter and syllable as she read, held her breath, and watched Margaret'sexpression. Did she suspect? No. A look of intense relief and pleasurehad come into her eyes. She was glad to have found a way to go. Sheturned to Mrs. Tanner. 

"What do you think of this, Mrs. Tanner? I'm to go with Mrs. Brownleighon a trip to Walpi. Isn't that delicious? I'm to start at once. Do yousuppose I could have a bite to eat? I won't need much. I'm too tired toeat and too anxious to be off. If you give me a cup of tea and asandwich I'll be all right. I've got things about ready to go, for Mrs. Brownleigh told me she would send some one for me. "

"H'm!" said Mrs. Tanner, disapprovingly. "Who you goin' with? Just_him_? I don't much like _his_ looks!"

She spoke in a low tone so the Indian would not hear, and it was almostin Rosa's very ear, who stood just behind. Rosa's heart stopped a beatand she frowned at the toe of her slipper. Was this common little Tannerwoman going to be the one to balk her plans?

Margaret raised her head now for her first good look at the Indian, andit must be admitted a chill came into her heart. Then, as if hecomprehended what was at stake, the Indian turned slightly and pointeddown the path toward the road. By common consent the few who werestanding about the door stepped back and made a vista for Margaret tosee the squaw sitting statue-like on her scraggy little pony, gazing offat the mountain in the distance, as if she were sitting for her picture, her solemn little papoose strapped to her back. 

Margaret's troubled eyes cleared. The family aspect made things allright again. "You see, he has his wife and child, " she said. "It's allright. Mrs. Brownleigh says she trusts him perfectly, and I'm to meetthem on the way. Read the letter. "

She thrust the letter into Mrs. Tanner's hand, and Rosa trembled for herscheme once more. Surely, surely Mrs. Tanner would not be able to detectthe forgery!

"H'm! Well, I s'pose it's all right if she says so, but I'm sure I don'trelish them pesky Injuns, and I don't think that squaw wife of his looksany great shakes, either. They look to me like they needed a good scrubwith Bristol brick. But then, if you're set on going, you'll go, 'course. I jest wish Bud hadn't 'a' gone home with that Jasper Kemp. Hemight 'a' gone along, an' then you'd 'a' had somebody to speak Englishto. "

"Yes, it would have been nice to have William along, " said Margaret;"but I think I'll be all right. Mrs. Brownleigh wouldn't send anybodythat wasn't nice. "

"H'm! I dun'no'! She's an awful crank. She just loves them Injuns, theysay. But I, fer one, draw the line at holdin' 'em in my lap. I don'tb'lieve in mixin' folks up that way. Preach to 'em if you like, but let'em keep their distance, I say. "

Margaret laughed and went off to pick up her things. Rosa stood smilingand talking to Jed until she saw Margaret and Mrs. Tanner go offtogether, the Indians riding slowly along behind. 

Rosa waited until the Indians had turned off the road down toward theTanners', and then she mounted her own pony and rode swiftly home. 

She rushed up to her room and took off her fine apparel, arrayingherself quickly in a plain little gown, and went down to prepare theprovisions. There was none too much time, and she must work rapidly. Itwas well for her plans that she was all-powerful with the servants andcould send them about at will to get them out of her way. She invented aduty for each now that would take them for a few minutes well out ofsight and sound; then she hurried together the provisions in a basket, making two trips to get them to the shelter where she had told theIndian he would find the horse tied. She had to make a third trip tobring the blankets and a few other things she knew would beindispensable, but the whole outfit was really but carelessly gottentogether, and it was just by chance that some things got in at all. 

It was not difficult to find the old cayuse she intended using for apack-horse. He was browsing around in the corral, and she soon had ahalter over his head, for she had been quite used to horses from herbabyhood. 

She packed the canned things, tinned meats, vegetables, and fruit into acouple of large sacks, adding some fodder for the horses, a box ofmatches, some corn bread, of which there was always plenty on hand inthe house, some salt pork, and a few tin dishes. These she slung packfashion over the old horse, fastened the sardine-tin containing the goldpieces where it would be easily found, tied the horse to a tree, andretired behind a shelter of sage-brush to watch. 

It was not long before the little caravan came, the Indians riding aheadsingle file, like two graven images, moving not a muscle of their faces, and Margaret a little way behind on her own pony, her face as happy andrelieved as if she were a child let out from a hard task to play. 

The Indian stopped beside the horse, a glitter of satisfaction in hiseyes as he saw that the little lady had fulfilled her part of thebargain. He indicated to the squaw and the lady that they might move ondown the trail, and he would catch up with them; and then dismounted, pouncing warily upon the sardine-tin at once. He looked furtively about, then took out the money and tested it with his teeth to make sure it wasgenuine. 

He grunted his further satisfaction, looked over the pack-horse, mademore secure the fastenings of the load, and, taking the halter, mountedand rode stolidly away toward the north. 

Rosa waited in her covert until they were far out of sight, then madeher way hurriedly back to the house and climbed to a window where shecould watch the trail for several miles. There, with a field-glass, shekept watch until the procession had filed across the plains, down into avalley, up over a hill, and dropped to a farther valley out of sight. She looked at the sun and drew a breath of satisfaction. She had done itat last! She had got Margaret away before Forsythe came! There was nolikelihood that the fraud would be discovered until her rival was farenough away to be safe. A kind of reaction came upon Rosa's overwroughtnerves. She laughed out harshly, and her voice had a cruel ring to it. Then she threw herself upon the bed and burst into a passionate fit ofweeping, and so, by and by, fell asleep. She dreamed that Margaret hadreturned like a shining, fiery angel, a two-edged sword in her hand andall the Wallis camp at her heels, with vengeance in their wake. Thathateful little boy, Bud Tanner, danced around and made faces at her, while Forsythe had forgotten her to gaze at Margaret's face. 

CHAPTER XXIX

To Margaret the day was very fair, and the omens all auspicious. Shecarried with her close to her heart two precious letters received thatmorning and scarcely glanced at as yet, one from Gardley and one fromher mother. She had had only time to open them and be sure that all waswell with her dear ones, and had left the rest to read on the way. 

She was dressed in the khaki riding-habit she always wore when she wenton horseback; and in the bag strapped on behind she carried a couple offresh white blouses, a thin, white dress, a little soft dark silk gownthat folded away almost into a cobweb, and a few other necessities. Shehad also slipped in a new book her mother had sent her, into which shehad had as yet no time to look, and her chessmen and board, besideswriting materials. She prided herself on having got so many necessariesinto so small a compass. She would need the extra clothing if she stayedat Ganado with the missionaries for a week on her return from the trip, and the book and chessmen would amuse them all by the way. She had heardBrownleigh say he loved to play chess. 

Margaret rode on the familiar trail, and for the first hour just letherself be glad that school was over and she could rest and have noresponsibility. The sun shimmered down brilliantly on the white, hotsand and gray-green of the greasewood and sage-brush. Tall spikes ofcactus like lonely spires shot up now and again to vary the scene. Itwas all familiar ground to Margaret around here, for she had taken manyrides with Gardley and Bud, and for the first part of the way every turnand bit of view was fraught with pleasant memories that brought a smileto her eyes as she recalled some quotation of Gardley's or some prank ofBud's. Here was where they first sighted the little cottontail the dayshe took her initial ride on her own pony. Off there was the mountainwhere they saw the sun drawing silver water above a frowning storm. Yonder was the group of cedars where they had stopped to eat their lunchonce, and this water-hole they were approaching was the one whereGardley had given her a drink from his hat. 

She was almost glad that Bud was not along, for she was too tired totalk and liked to be alone with her thoughts for this few minutes. PoorBud! He would be disappointed when he got back to find her gone, butthen he had expected she was going in a few days, anyway, and she hadpromised to take long rides with him when she returned. She had left alittle note for him, asking him to read a certain book in her bookcasewhile she was gone, and be ready to discuss it with her when she gotback, and Bud would be fascinated with it, she knew. Bud had been dearand faithful, and she would miss him, but just for this little whileshe was glad to have the great out-of-doors to herself. 

She was practically alone. The two sphinx-like figures riding ahead ofher made no sign, but stolidly rode on hour after hour, nor turned theirheads even to see if she were coming. She knew that Indians were thisway; still, as the time went by she began to feel an uneasy sense ofbeing alone in the universe with a couple of bronze statues. Even thepapoose had erased itself in sleep, and when it awoke partook so fullyof its racial peculiarities as to hold its little peace and make nofuss. Margaret began to feel the baby was hardly human, more like alittle brown doll set up in a missionary meeting to teach white childrenwhat a papoose was like. 

By and by she got out her letters and read them over carefully, dreamingand smiling over them, and getting precious bits by heart. Gardleyhinted that he might be able very soon to visit her parents, as itlooked as though he might have to make a trip on business in theirdirection before he could go further with what he was doing in his oldhome. He gave no hint of soon returning to the West. He said he wasawaiting the return of one man who might soon be coming from abroad. Margaret sighed and wondered how many weary months it would be beforeshe would see him. Perhaps, after all, she ought to have gone home andstayed them out with her mother and father. If the school-board could bemade to see that it would be better to have no summer session, perhapsshe would even yet go when she returned from the Brownleighs'. She wouldsee. She would decide nothing until she was rested. 

Suddenly she felt herself overwhelmingly weary, and wished that theIndians would stop and rest for a while; but when she stirred up hersleepy pony and spurred ahead to broach the matter to her guide he shookhis solemn head and pointed to the sun:

"No get Keams good time. No meet Aneshodi. "

"Aneshodi, " she knew, was the Indians' name for the missionary, and shesmiled her acquiescence. Of course they must meet the Brownleighs andnot detain them. What was it Hazel had said about having to hurry? Shesearched her pocket for the letter, and then remembered she had left itwith Mrs. Tanner. What a pity she had not brought it! Perhaps there wassome caution or advice in it that she had not taken note of. But thenthe Indian likely knew all about it, and she could trust to him. Sheglanced at his stolid face and wished she could make him smile. She casta sunny smile at him and said something pleasant about the beautifulday, but he only looked her through as if she were not there, and afterone or two more attempts she fell back and tried to talk to the squaw;but the squaw only looked stolid, too, and shook her head. She did notseem friendly. Margaret drew back into her old position and feasted hereyes upon the distant hills. 

The road was growing unfamiliar now. They were crossing rough ridgeswith cliffs of red sandstone, and every step of the way was interesting. Yet Margaret felt more and more how much she wanted to lie down andsleep, and when at last in the dusk the Indians halted not far from alittle pool of rainwater and indicated that here they would camp forthe night, Margaret was too weary to question the decision. It had notoccurred to her that she would be on the way overnight before she mether friends. Her knowledge of the way, and of distances, was but vague. It is doubtful if she would have ventured had she known that she mustpass the night thus in the company of two strange savage creatures. Yet, now that she was here and it was inevitable, she would not shrink, butmake the best of it. She tried to be friendly once more, and offered tolook out for the baby while the squaw gathered wood and made a fire. TheIndian was off looking after the horses, evidently expecting his wife todo all the work. 

Margaret watched a few minutes, while pretending to play with the baby, who was both sleepy and hungry, yet held his emotions as stolidly as ifhe were a grown person. Then she decided to take a hand in the supper. She was hungry and could not bear that those dusky, dirty hands shouldset forth her food, so she went to work cheerfully, giving directions asif the Indian woman understood her, though she very soon discovered thatall her talk was as mere babbling to the other, and she might as wellhold her peace. The woman set a kettle of water over the fire, andMargaret forestalled her next movement by cutting some pork and puttingit to cook in a little skillet she found among the provisions. The womanwatched her solemnly, not seeming to care; and so, silently, each wentabout her own preparations. 

The supper was a silent affair, and when it was over the squaw handedMargaret a blanket. Suddenly she understood that this, and this alone, was to be her bed for the night. The earth was there for a mattress, and the sage-brush lent a partial shelter, the canopy of stars wasoverhead. 

A kind of panic took possession of her. She stared at the squaw andfound herself longing to cry out for help. It seemed as if she could notbear this awful silence of the mortals who were her only company. Yether common sense came to her aid, and she realized that there wasnothing for it but to make the best of things. So she took the blanketand, spreading it out, sat down upon it and wrapped it about hershoulders and feet. She would not lie down until she saw what the restdid. Somehow she shrank from asking the bronze man how to fold a blanketfor a bed on the ground. She tried to remember what Gardley had told herabout folding the blanket bed so as best to keep out snakes and ants. She shuddered at the thought of snakes. Would she dare call for helpfrom those stolid companions of hers if a snake should attempt to molesther in the night? And would she ever dare to go to sleep?

She remembered her first night in Arizona out among the stars, alone onthe water-tank, and her first frenzy of loneliness. Was this as bad? No, for these Indians were trustworthy and well known by her dear friends. It might be unpleasant, but this, too, would pass and the morrow wouldsoon be here. 

The dusk dropped down and the stars loomed out. All the world grewwonderful, like a blue jeweled dome of a palace with the lights turnedlow. The fire burned brightly as the man threw sticks upon it, and thetwo Indians moved stealthily about in the darkness, passing silhouettedbefore the fire this way and that, and then at last lying down wrappedin their blankets to sleep. 

It was very quiet about her. The air was so still she could hear thehobbled horses munching away in the distance, and moving now and thenwith the halting gait a hobble gives a horse. Off in the fartherdistance the blood-curdling howl of the coyotes rose, but Margaret wasused to them, and knew they would not come near a fire. 

She was growing very weary, and at last wrapped her blanket closer andlay down, her head pillowed on one corner of it. Committing herself toher Heavenly Father, and breathing a prayer for father, mother, andlover, she fell asleep. 

It was still almost dark when she awoke. For a moment she thought it wasstill night and the sunset was not gone yet, the clouds were so rosytinted. 

The squaw was standing by her, touching her shoulder roughly andgrunting something. She perceived, as she rubbed her eyes and tried tosummon back her senses, that she was expected to get up and eatbreakfast. There was a smell of pork and coffee in the air, and therewas scorched corn bread beside the fire on a pan. 

Margaret got up quickly and ran down to the water-hole to get somewater, dashing it in her face and over her arms and hands, the squawmeanwhile standing at a little distance, watching her curiously, as ifshe thought this some kind of an oblation paid to the white woman's godbefore she ate. Margaret pulled the hair-pins out of her hair, lettingit down and combing it with one of her side combs; twisted it up againin its soft, fluffy waves; straightened her collar, set on her hat, andwas ready for the day. The squaw looked at her with both awe andcontempt for a moment, then turned and stalked back to her papoose andbegan preparing it for the journey. 

Margaret made a hurried meal and was scarcely done before she found herguides were waiting like two pillars of the desert, but watching keenly, impatiently, her every mouthful, and anxious to be off. 

The sky was still pink-tinted with the semblance of a sunset, andMargaret felt, as she mounted her pony and followed her companions, asif the day was all turned upside down. She almost wondered whether shehadn't slept through a whole twenty-four hours, and it were not, afterall, evening again, till by and by the sun rose clear and the wonder ofthe cloud-tinting melted into day. 

The road lay through sage-brush and old barren cedar-trees, with rabbitsdarting now and then between the rocks. Suddenly from the top of alittle hill they came out to a spot where they could see far over thedesert. Forty miles away three square, flat hills, or mesas, looked likea gigantic train of cars, and the clear air gave everything a strangevastness. Farther on beyond the mesas dimly dawned the Black Mountains. One could even see the shadowed head of "Round Rock, " almost a hundredmiles away. Before them and around was a great plain of sage-brush, andhere and there was a small bush that the Indians call "the weed that wasnot scared. " Margaret had learned all these things during her winter inArizona, and keenly enjoyed the vast, splendid view spread before her. 

They passed several little mud-plastered hogans that Margaret knew forIndian dwellings. A fine band of ponies off in the distance made aninteresting spot on the landscape, and twice they passed bands of sheep. She had a feeling of great isolation from everything she had ever known, and seemed going farther and farther from life and all she loved. Onceshe ventured to ask the Indian what time he expected to meet herfriends, the missionaries, but he only shook his head and murmuredsomething unintelligible about "Keams" and pointed to the sun. Shedropped behind again, vaguely uneasy, she could not tell why. Thereseemed something so altogether sly and wary and unfriendly in the facesof the two that she almost wished she had not come. Yet the way wasbeautiful enough and nothing very unpleasant was happening to her. Onceshe dropped the envelope of her mother's letter and was about todismount and recover it. Then some strange impulse made her leave it onthe sand of the desert. What if they should be lost and that papershould guide them back? The notion stayed by her, and once in a whileshe dropped other bits of paper by the way. 

About noon the trail dropped off into a cañon, with high, yellow-rockwalls on either side, and stifling heat, so that she felt as if shecould scarcely stand it. She was glad when they emerged once more andclimbed to higher ground. The noon camp was a hasty affair, for theIndian seemed in a hurry. He scanned the horizon far and wide andseemed searching keenly for some one or something. Once they met alonely Indian, and he held a muttered conversation with him, pointingoff ahead and gesticulating angrily. But the words were unintelligibleto Margaret. Her feeling of uneasiness was growing, and yet she couldnot for the life of her tell why, and laid it down to her tired nerves. She was beginning to think she had been very foolish to start on such along trip before she had had a chance to get rested from her last daysof school. She longed to lie down under a tree and sleep for days. 

Toward night they sighted a great blue mesa about fifty miles south, andat sunset they could just see the San Francisco peaks more than ahundred and twenty-five miles away. Margaret, as she stopped her horseand gazed, felt a choking in her heart and throat and a great desire tocry. The glory and awe of the mountains, mingled with her own wearinessand nervous fear, were almost too much for her. She was glad to get downand eat a little supper and go to sleep again. As she fell asleep shecomforted herself with repeating over a few precious words from herBible:

 "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him and delivereth them. Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee because he trusteth in Thee. I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou Lord only makest me to dwell in safety.... "

The voice of the coyotes, now far, now near, boomed out on the night;great stars shot dartling pathways across the heavens; the fire snappedand crackled, died down and flickered feebly; but Margaret slept, tiredout, and dreamed the angels kept close vigil around her lowly couch. 

She did not know what time the stars disappeared and the rain began tofall. She was too tired to notice the drops that fell upon her face. Tootired to hear the coyotes coming nearer, nearer, yet in the morningthere lay one dead, stretched not thirty feet from where she lay. TheIndian had shot him through the heart. 

Somehow things looked very dismal that morning, in spite of thebrightness of the sun after the rain. She was stiff and sore with lyingin the dampness. Her hair was wet, her blanket was wet, and she wokewithout feeling rested. Almost the trip seemed more than she could bear. If she could have wished herself back that morning and have stayed atTanners' all summer she certainly would have done it rather than to bewhere and how she was. 

The Indians seemed excited--the man grim and forbidding, the womanappealing, frightened, anxious. They were near to Keams Cañon. "Aneshodi" would be somewhere about. The Indian hoped to be rid of hisburden then and travel on his interrupted journey. He was growingimpatient. He felt he had earned his money. 

But when they tried to go down Keam's Cañon they found the road allwashed away by flood, and must needs go a long way around. This made theIndian surly. His countenance was more forbidding than ever. Margaret, as she watched him with sinking heart, altered her ideas of the Indianas a whole to suit the situation. She had always felt pity for the poorIndian, whose land had been seized and whose kindred had beenslaughtered. But this Indian was not an object of pity. He was the mostdisagreeable, cruel-looking Indian Margaret had ever laid eyes on. Shehad felt it innately the first time she saw him, but now, as thesituation began to bring him out, she knew that she was dreadfullyafraid of him. She had a feeling that he might scalp her if he got tiredof her. She began to alter her opinion of Hazel Brownleigh's judgment asregarded Indians. She did not feel that she would ever send this Indianto any one for a guide and say he was perfectly trustworthy. He hadn'tdone anything very dreadful yet, but she felt he was going to. 

He had a number of angry confabs with his wife that morning. At least, he did the confabbing and the squaw protested. Margaret gathered after awhile that it was something about herself. The furtive, frightenedglances that the squaw cast in her direction sometimes, when the man wasnot looking, made her think so. She tried to say it was all imagination, and that her nerves were getting the upper hand of her, but in spite ofher she shuddered sometimes, just as she had done when Rosa looked ather. She decided that she must be going to have a fit of sickness, andthat just as soon as she got in the neighborhood of Mrs. Tanner's againshe would pack her trunk and go home to her mother. If she was going tobe sick she wanted her mother. 

About noon things came to a climax. They halted on the top of the mesa, and the Indians had another altercation, which ended in the mandescending the trail a fearfully steep way, down four hundred feet tothe trading-post in the cañon. Margaret looked down and gasped andthanked a kind Providence that had not made it necessary for her to makethat descent; but the squaw stood at the top with her baby and lookeddown in silent sorrow--agony perhaps would be a better name. Her facewas terrible to look upon. 

Margaret could not understand it, and she went to the woman and put herhand out sympathetically, asking, gently: "What is the matter, you poorlittle thing? Oh, what is it?"

Perhaps the woman understood the tenderness in the tone, for shesuddenly turned and rested her forehead against Margaret's shoulder, giving one great, gasping sob, then lifted her dry, miserable eyes tothe girl's face as if to thank her for her kindness. 

Margaret's heart was touched. She threw her arms around the poor womanand drew her, papoose and all, comfortingly toward her, patting hershoulder and saying gentle, soothing words as she would to a littlechild. And by and by the woman lifted her head again, the tears coursingdown her face, and tried to explain, muttering her queer gutturals andmaking eloquent gestures until Margaret felt she understood. Shegathered that the man had gone down to the trading-post to find the"Aneshodi, " and that the squaw feared that he would somehow procurefirewater either from the trader or from some Indian he might meet, andwould come back angrier than he had gone, and without his money. 

If Margaret also suspected that the Indian had desired to get rid of herby leaving her at that desolate little trading-station down in the cañonuntil such time as her friends should call for her, she resolutely putthe thought out of her mind and set herself to cheer the poor Indianwoman. 

She took a bright, soft, rosy silk tie from her own neck and knotted itabout the astonished woman's dusky throat, and then she put a silverdollar in her hand, and was thrilled with wonder to see what a changecame over the poor, dark face. It reminded her of Mom Wallis when shegot on her new bonnet, and once again she felt the thrill of knowing thewhole world kin. 

The squaw cheered up after a little, got sticks and made a fire, andtogether they had quite a pleasant meal. Margaret exerted herself tomake the poor woman laugh, and finally succeeded by dangling abright-red knight from her chessmen in front of the delighted baby'seyes till he gurgled out a real baby crow of joy. 

It was the middle of the afternoon before the Indian returned, sittingcrazily his struggling beast as he climbed the trail once more. Margaret, watching, caught her breath and prayed. Was this thetrustworthy man, this drunken, reeling creature, clubbing his horse andpouring forth a torrent of indistinguishable gutturals? It was evidentthat his wife's worst fears were verified. He had found the firewater. 

The frightened squaw set to work putting things together as fast as shecould. She well knew what to expect, and when the man reached the top ofthe mesa he found his party packed and mounted, waiting fearsomely totake the trail. 

Silently, timorously, they rode behind him, west across the great wideplain. 

In the distance gradually there appeared dim mesas like great fingersstretching out against the sky; miles away they seemed, and nothingintervening but a stretch of varying color where sage-brush melted intosand, and sage-brush and greasewood grew again, with tall cactusstartling here and there like bayonets at rest but bristling withmenace. 

The Indian had grown silent and sullen. His eyes were like deep fires ofburning volcanoes. One shrank from looking at them. His massive, cruelprofile stood out like bronze against the evening sky. It was growingnight again, and still they had not come to anywhere or anything, andstill her friends seemed just as far away. 

Since they had left the top of Keams Cañon Margaret had been sure allwas not right. Aside from the fact that the guide was drunk at present, she was convinced that there had been something wrong with him allalong. He did not act like the Indians around Ashland. He did not actlike a trusted guide that her friends would send for her. She wishedonce more that she had kept Hazel Brownleigh's letter. She wondered howher friends would find her if they came after her. It was then she beganin earnest to systematically plan to leave a trail behind her all therest of the way. If she had only done it thoroughly when she first beganto be uneasy. But now she was so far away, so many miles from anywhere!Oh, if she had not come at all!

And first she dropped her handkerchief, because she happened to have itin her hand--a dainty thing with lace on the edge and her name writtenin tiny script by her mother's careful hand on the narrow hem. And thenafter a little, as soon as she could scrawl it without being noticed, she wrote a note which she twisted around the neck of a red chessman, and left behind her. After that scraps of paper, as she could reach themout of the bag tied on behind her saddle; then a stocking, a bedroomslipper, more chessmen, and so, when they halted at dusk and prepared tostrike camp, she had quite a good little trail blazed behind her overthat wide, empty plain. She shuddered as she looked into the gatheringdarkness ahead, where those long, dark lines of mesas looked likebarriers in the way. Then, suddenly, the Indian pointed ahead to thefirst mesa and uttered one word--"Walpi!" So that was the Indian villageto which she was bound? What was before her on the morrow? After eatinga pretense of supper she lay down. The Indian had more firewater withhim. He drank, he uttered cruel gutturals at his squaw, and even kickedthe feet of the sleeping papoose as he passed by till it awoke and criedsharply, which made him more angry, so he struck the squaw. 

It seemed hours before all was quiet. Margaret's nerves were strained tosuch a pitch she scarcely dared to breathe, but at last, when the firehad almost died down, the man lay quiet, and she could relax and closeher eyes. 

Not to sleep. She must not go to sleep. The fire was almost gone and thecoyotes would be around. She must wake and watch!

That was the last thought she remembered--that and a prayer that theangels would keep watch once again. 

When she awoke it was broad daylight and far into the morning, for thesun was high overhead and the mesas in the distance were clear anddistinct against the sky. 

She sat up and looked about her, bewildered, not knowing at first whereshe was. It was so still and wide and lonely. 

She turned to find the Indians, but there was no trace of them anywhere. The fire lay smoldering in its place, a thin trickle of smoke curlingaway from a dying stick, but that was all. A tin cup half full of coffeewas beside the stick, and a piece of blackened corn bread. She turnedfrightened eyes to east, to west, to north, to south, but there was noone in sight, and out over the distant mesa there poised a great eaglealone in the vast sky keeping watch over the brilliant, silent waste. 

CHAPTER XXX

When Margaret was a very little girl her father and mother had left heralone for an hour with a stranger while they went out to make a call ina strange city through which they were passing on a summer trip. Thestranger was kind, and gave to the child a large green box of bits ofold black lace and purple ribbons to play with, but she turnedsorrowfully from the somber array of finery, which was the only thing inthe way of a plaything the woman had at hand, and stood looking drearilyout of the window on the strange, new town, a feeling of utterloneliness upon her. Her little heart was almost choked with theawfulness of the thought that she was a human atom drifted apart fromevery other atom she had ever known, that she had a personality and aresponsibility of her own, and that she must face this thought ofherself and her aloneness for evermore. It was the child's firstrealization that she was a separate being apart from her father andmother, and she was almost consumed with the terror of it. 

As she rose now from her bed on the ground and looked out across thatvast waste, in which the only other living creature was that sinister, watching eagle, the same feeling returned to her and made her tremblelike the little child who had turned from her box of ancient finery torealize her own little self and its terrible aloneness. 

For an instant even her realization of God, which had from earlychildhood been present with her, seemed to have departed. She could notgrasp anything save the vast empty silence that loomed about her soawfully. She was alone, and about as far from anywhere or anything asshe could possibly be in the State of Arizona. Would she ever get backto human habitations? Would her friends ever be able to find her?

Then her heart flew back to its habitual refuge, and she spoke aloud andsaid, "God is here!" and the thought seemed to comfort her. She lookedabout once more on the bright waste, and now it did not seem so dreary. 

"God is here!" she repeated, and tried to realize that this was a partof His habitation. She could not be lost where God was. He knew the wayout. She had only to trust. So she dropped upon her knees in the sandand prayed for trust and courage. 

When she rose again she walked steadily to a height a little above thecamp-fire, and, shading her eyes, looked carefully in every direction. No, there was not a sign of her recent companions. They must have stolenaway in the night quite soon after she fell asleep, and have gone fastand far, so that they were now beyond the reach of her eyes, and notanywhere was there sign of living thing, save that eagle still sweepingin great curves and poising again above the distant mesa. 

Where was her horse? Had the Indians taken that, too? She searched thevalley, but saw no horse at first. With sinking heart she went back towhere her things were and sat down by the dying fire to think, putting afew loose twigs and sticks together to keep the embers bright while shecould. She reflected that she had no matches, and this was probably thelast fire she would have until somebody came to her rescue or she gotsomewhere by herself. What was she to do? Stay right where she was orstart out on foot? And should she go backward or forward? Surely, surelythe Brownleighs would miss her pretty soon and send out a search-partyfor her. How could it be that they trusted an Indian who had done such acruel thing as to leave a woman unprotected in the desert? And yet, perhaps, they did not know his temptation to drink. Perhaps they hadthought he could not get any firewater. Perhaps he would return when hecame to himself and realized what he had done. 

And now she noticed what she had not seen at first--a small bottle ofwater on a stone beside the blackened bread. Realizing that she was veryhungry and that this was the only food at hand, she sat down beside thefire to eat the dry bread and drink the miserable coffee. She must havestrength to do whatever was before her. She tried not to think how hermother would feel if she never came back, how anxious they would be asthey waited day by day for her letters that did not come. She reflectedwith a sinking heart that she had, just before leaving, written a hastynote to her mother telling her not to expect anything for several days, perhaps even as much as two weeks, as she was going out of civilizationfor a little while. How had she unwittingly sealed her fate by that! Fornow not even by way of her alarmed home could help come to her. 

She put the last bit of hard corn bread in her pocket for a further timeof need, and began to look about her again. Then she spied with delighta moving object far below her in the valley, and decided it was a horse, perhaps her own. He was a mile away, at least, but he was there, and shecried out with sudden joy and relief. 

She went over to her blanket and bags, which had been beside her duringthe night, and stood a moment trying to think what to do. Should shecarry the things to the horse or risk leaving them here while she wentafter the horse and brought him to the things? No, that would not besafe. Some one might come along and take them, or she might not be ableto find her way back again in this strange, wild waste. Besides, shemight not get the horse, after all, and would lose everything. She mustcarry her things to the horse. She stooped to gather them up, andsomething bright beside her bag attracted her. It was the sun shining onthe silver dollar she had given to the Indian woman. A sudden rush oftears came to her eyes. The poor creature had tried to make all thereparation she could for thus hastily leaving the white woman in thedesert. She had given back the money--all she had that was valuable!Beside the dollar rippled a little chain of beads curiously wrought, aninanimate appeal for forgiveness and a grateful return for the kindnessshown her. Margaret smiled as she stooped again to pick up her things. There had been a heart, after all, behind that stolid countenance, andsome sense of righteousness and justice. Margaret decided that Indianswere not all treacherous. Poor woman! What a life was hers--to followher grim lord whither he would lead, even as her white sister mustsometimes, sorrowing, rebelling, crying out, but following! She wonderedif into the heart of this dark sister there ever crept any of therebellion which led some of her white sisters to cry aloud for "rights"and "emancipation. "

But it was all a passing thought to be remembered and turned over at amore propitious time. Margaret's whole thoughts now were bent on herpresent predicament. 

The packing was short work. She stuffed everything into the two bagsthat were usually hung across the horse, and settled them carefullyacross her shoulders. Then she rolled the blanket, took it in her arms, and started. It was a heavy burden to carry, but she could not make upher mind to part with any of her things until she had at least made aneffort to save them. If she should be left alone in the desert for thenight the blanket was indispensable, and her clothes would at least doto drop as a trail by which her friends might find her. She must carrythem as far as possible. So she started. 

It was already high day, and the sun was intolerably hot. Her heavyburden was not only cumbersome, but very warm, and she felt her strengthgoing from her as she went; but her nerve was up and her courage wasstrong. Moreover, she prayed as she walked, and she felt now thepresence of her Guide and was not afraid. As she walked she faced anumber of possibilities in the immediate future which were startling, and to say the least, undesirable. There were wild animals in this land, not so much in the daylight, but what of the night? She had heard that awoman was always safe in that wild Western land; but what of theprowling Indians? What of a possible exception to the Western rule ofchivalry toward a decent woman? One small piece of corn bread and lessthan a pint of water were small provision on which to withstand a siege. How far was it to anywhere?

It was then she remembered for the first time that one word--"Walpi!"uttered by the Indian as he came to a halt the night before and pointedfar to the mesa--"Walpi. " She lifted her eyes now and scanned the darkmesa. It loomed like a great battlement of rock against the sky. Couldit be possible there were people dwelling there? She had heard, ofcourse, about the curious Hopi villages, each village a gigantic houseof many rooms, called pueblos, built upon the lofty crags, sometimesfive or six hundred feet above the desert. 

Could it be that that great castle-looking outline against the skybefore her, standing out on the end of the mesa like a promontory abovethe sea, was Walpi? And if it was, how was she to get up there? The rockrose sheer and steep from the desert floor. The narrow neck of landbehind it looked like a slender thread. Her heart sank at thought oftrying to storm and enter, single-handed, such an impregnable fortress. And yet, if her friends were there, perhaps they would see her when shedrew near and come to show her the way. Strange that they should havegone on and left her with those treacherous Indians! Strange that theyshould have trusted them so, in the first place! Her own instincts hadbeen against trusting the man from the beginning. It must be confessedthat during her reflections at this point her opinion of the wisdom andjudgment of the Brownleighs was lowered several notches. Then she beganto berate herself for having so easily been satisfied about her escort. She should have read the letter more carefully. She should have askedthe Indians more questions. She should, perhaps, have asked JasperKemp's advice, or got him to talk to the Indian. She wished with all herheart for Bud, now. If Bud were along he would be saying some comicalboy-thing, and be finding a way out of the difficulty. Dear, faithfulBud!

The sun rose higher and the morning grew hotter. As she descended to thevalley her burdens grew intolerable, and several times she almost castthem aside. Once she lost sight of her pony among the sage-brush, and itwas two hours before she came to him and was able to capture him andstrap on her burdens. She was almost too exhausted to climb into thesaddle when all was ready; but she managed to mount at last and startedout toward the rugged crag ahead of her. 

The pony had a long, hot climb out of the valley to a hill where shecould see very far again, but still that vast emptiness reigned. Eventhe eagle had disappeared, and she fancied he must be resting like agreat emblem of freedom on one of the points of the castle-likebattlement against the sky. It seemed as if the end of the world hadcome, and she was the only one left in the universe, forgotten, ridingon her weary horse across an endless desert in search of a home shewould never see again. 

Below the hill there stretched a wide, white strip of sand, perhaps twomiles in extent, but shimmering in the sun and seeming to recede aheadof her as she advanced. Beyond was soft greenness--somethinggrowing--not near enough to be discerned as cornfields. The girl droopedher tired head upon her horse's mane and wept, her courage going fromher with her tears. In all that wide universe there seemed no way to go, and she was so very tired, hungry, hot, and discouraged! There wasalways that bit of bread in her pocket and that muddy-looking, warmwater for a last resort; but she must save them as long as possible, forthere was no telling how long it would be before she had more. 

There was no trail now to follow. She had started from the spot whereshe had found the horse, and her inexperienced eyes could not havesearched out a trail if she had tried. She was going toward that distantcastle on the crag as to a goal, but when she reached it, if she everdid, would she find anything there but crags and lonesomeness and theeagle?

Drying her tears at last, she started the horse on down the hill, andperhaps her tears blinded her, or because she was dizzy with hunger andthe long stretch of anxiety and fatigue she was not looking closely. There was a steep place, a sharp falling away of the ground unexpectedlyas they emerged from a thicket of sage-brush, and the horse plungedseveral feet down, striking sharply on some loose rocks, and slipping tohis knees; snorting, scrambling, making brave effort, but slipping, halfrolling, at last he was brought down with his frightened rider, and layupon his side with her foot under him and a sensation like a red-hotknife running through her ankle. 

Margaret caught her breath in quick gasps as they fell, lifting a prayerin her heart for help. Then came the crash and the sharp pain, and witha quick conviction that all was over she dropped back unconscious on thesand, a blessed oblivion of darkness rushing over her. 

When she came to herself once more the hot sun was pouring down upon herunprotected face, and she was conscious of intense pain and suffering inevery part of her body. She opened her eyes wildly and looked around. There was sage-brush up above, waving over the crag down which they hadfallen, its gray-greenness shimmering hotly in the sun; the sky wasmercilessly blue without a cloud. The great beast, heavy and quivering, lay solidly against her, half pinning her to earth, and the helplessnessof her position was like an awful nightmare from which she felt shemight waken if she could only cry out. But when at last she raised hervoice its empty echo frightened her, and there, above her, withwide-spread wings, circling for an instant, then poised in motionlesssurvey of her, with cruel eyes upon her, loomed that eagle--so large, sofearful, so suggestive in its curious stare, the monarch of the desertcome to see who had invaded his precincts and fallen into one of hissnares. 

With sudden frenzy burning in her veins Margaret struggled and tried toget free, but she could only move the slightest bit each time, and everymotion was an agony to the hurt ankle. 

It seemed hours before she writhed herself free from that great, motionless horse, whose labored breath only showed that he was stillalive. Something terrible must have happened to the horse or he wouldhave tried to rise, for she had coaxed, patted, cajoled, tried in everyway to rouse him. When at last she crawled free from the hot, horriblebody and crept with pained progress around in front of him, she saw thatboth his forelegs lay limp and helpless. He must have broken them infalling. Poor fellow! He, too, was suffering and she had nothing to givehim! There was nothing she could do for him!

Then she thought of the bottle of water, but, searching for it, foundthat her good intention of dividing it with him was useless, for thebottle was broken and the water already soaked into the sand. Only adamp spot on the saddle-bag showed where it had departed. 

Then indeed did Margaret sink down in the sand in despair and begin topray as she had never prayed before. 

CHAPTER XXXI

The morning after Margaret's departure Rosa awoke with no feelings ofself-reproach, but rather a great exultation at the way in which she hadbeen able to get rid of her rival. 

She lay for a few minutes thinking of Forsythe, and trying to decidewhat she would wear when she went forth to meet him, for she wanted tocharm him as she had never charmed any one before. 

She spent some time arraying herself in different costumes, but at lastdecided on her Commencement gown of fine white organdie, hand-embroidered and frilled with filmy lace, the product of a famoushouse of gowns in the Eastern city where she had attended school for awhile and acquired expensive tastes. 

Daintily slippered, beribboned with coral-silk girdle, and with a rosefrom the vine over her window in her hair, she sallied forth at last tothe trysting-place. 

Forsythe was a whole hour late, as became a languid gentleman who hadtraveled the day before and idled at his sister's house over a latebreakfast until nearly noon. Already his fluttering fancy was apatheticabout Rosa, and he wondered, as he rode along, what had become of theinteresting young teacher who had charmed him for more than a passingmoment. Would he dare to call upon her, now that Gardley was out of theway? Was she still in Ashland or had she gone home for vacation? He mustask Rosa about her. 

Then he came in sight of Rosa sitting picturesquely in the shade of anold cedar, reading poetry, a little lady in the wilderness, and heforgot everything else in his delight over the change in her. For Rosahad changed. There was no mistake about it. She had bloomed out intomaturity in those few short months of his absence. Her soft figure hadrounded and developed, her bewitching curls were put up on her head, with only a stray tendril here and there to emphasize a dainty ear orcall attention to a smooth, round neck; and when she raised her lovelyhead and lifted limpid eyes to his there was about her a demureness, acoolness and charm that he had fancied only ladies of the city couldattain. Oh, Rosa knew her charms, and had practised many a day beforeher mirror till she had appraised the value of every curving eyelash, every hidden dimple, every cupid's curve of lip. Rosa had watched welland learned from all with whom she had come in contact. No woman's guilewas left untried by her. 

And Rosa was very sweet and charming. She knew just when to lift upinnocent eyes of wonder; when to not understand suggestions; when toexclaim softly with delight or shrink with shyness that nevertheless didnot repulse. 

Forsythe studied her with wonder and delight. No maiden of the city hadever charmed him more, and withal she seemed so innocent and young, soaltogether pliable in his hands. His pulses beat high, his heart wasinflamed, and passion came and sat within his handsome eyes. 

It was easy to persuade her, after her first seemingly shy reserve wasovercome, and before an hour was passed she had promised to go away withhim. He had very little money, but what of that? When he spoke of thatfeature Rosa declared she could easily get some. Her father gave herfree access to his safe, and kept her plentifully supplied for thehousehold use. It was nothing to her--a passing incident. What should itmatter whose money took them on their way?

When she went demurely back to the ranch a little before sunset shethought she was very happy, poor little silly sinner! She met her fatherwith her most alluring but most furtive smile. She was charming atsupper, and blushed as her mother used to do when he praised her newgown and told her how well she looked in it. But she professed to beweary yet from the last days of school--to have a headache--and so shewent early to her room and asked that the servants keep the house quietin the morning, that she might sleep late and get really rested. Herfather kissed her tenderly and thought what a dear child she was andwhat a comfort to his ripening years; and the house settled down intoquiet. 

Rosa packed a bag with some of her most elaborate garments, arrayedherself in a charming little outfit of silk for the journey, dropped herbaggage out of the window; and when the moon rose and the household werequietly sleeping she paid a visit to her father's safe, and then stoleforth, taking her shadowy way to the trail by a winding route known wellto herself and secure from the watch of vigilant servants who were everon the lookout for cattle thieves. 

Thus she left her father's house and went forth to put her trust in aman whose promises were as ropes of sand and whose fancy was like a waveof the sea, tossed to and fro by every breath that blew. Long ere thesun rose the next morning the guarded, beloved child was as far from hersafe home and her father's sheltering love as if alone she had startedfor the mouth of the bottomless pit. Two days later, while Margaret layunconscious beneath the sage-brush, with a hovering eagle for watch, Rosa in the streets of a great city suddenly realized that she was morealone in the universe than ever she could have been in a wide desert, and her plight was far worse than the girl's with whose fate she had solightly played. 

Quite early on the morning after Rosa left, while the household wasstill keeping quiet for the supposed sleeper, Gardley rode into theinclosure about the house and asked for Rogers. 

Gardley had been traveling night and day to get back. Matters hadsuddenly arranged themselves so that he could finish up his business athis old home and go on to see Margaret's father and mother, and he hadmade his visit there and hurried back to Arizona, hoping to reachAshland in time for Commencement. A delay on account of a washout on theroad had brought him back two days late for Commencement. He had riddento camp from a junction forty miles away to get there the sooner, andthis morning had ridden straight to the Tanners' to surprise Margaret. It was, therefore, a deep disappointment to find her gone and only Mrs. Tanner's voluble explanations for comfort. Mrs. Tanner exhausted hervocabulary in trying to describe the "Injuns, " her own feeling ofprotest against them, and Mrs. Brownleigh's foolishness in making somuch of them; and then she bustled in to the old pine desk in thedining-room and produced the letter that had started Margaret off assoon as commencement was over. 

Gardley took the letter eagerly, as though it were something to connecthim with Margaret, and read it through carefully to make sure just howmatters stood. He had looked troubled when Mrs. Tanner told how tiredMargaret was, and how worried she seemed about her school and glad toget away from it all; and he agreed that the trip was probably a goodthing. 

"I wish Bud could have gone along, though, " he said, thoughtfully, as heturned away from the door. "I don't like her to go with just Indians, though I suppose it is all right. You say he had his wife and childalong? Of course Mrs. Brownleigh wouldn't send anybody that wasn'tperfectly all right. Well, I suppose the trip will be a rest for her. I'm sorry I didn't get home a few days sooner. I might have looked outfor her myself. "

He rode away from the Tanners', promising to return later with a gift hehad brought for Bud that he wanted to present himself, and Mrs. Tannerbustled back to her work again. 

"Well, I'm glad he's got home, anyway, " she remarked, aloud, to herselfas she hung her dish-cloth tidily over the upturned dish-pan and took upher broom. "I 'ain't felt noways easy 'bout her sence she left, though Ido suppose there ain't any sense to it. But I'm _glad he's back_!"

Meantime Gardley was riding toward Rogers's ranch, meditating whether heshould venture to follow the expedition and enjoy at least the returntrip with Margaret, or whether he ought to remain patiently until shecame back and go to work at once. There was nothing really importantdemanding his attention immediately, for Rogers had arranged to keep thepresent overseer of affairs until he was ready to undertake the work. Hewas on his way now to report on a small business matter which he hadbeen attending to in New York for Rogers. When that was over he would befree to do as he pleased for a few days more if he liked, and thetemptation was great to go at once to Margaret. 

As he stood waiting beside his horse in front of the house while theservant went to call Rogers, he looked about with delight on the beautyof the day. How glad he was to be back in Arizona again! Was it thecharm of the place or because Margaret was there, he wondered, that hefelt so happy? By all means he must follow her. Why should he not?

He looked at the clambering rose-vine that covered one end of the house, and noticed how it crept close to the window casement and caressed thewhite curtain as it blew. Margaret must have such a vine at her windowin the house he would build for her. It might be but a modest house thathe could give her now, but it should have a rose-vine just like that;and he would train it round her window where she could smell thefragrance from it every morning when she awoke, and where it wouldbreathe upon her as she slept. 

Margaret! How impatient he was to see her again! To look upon her dearface and know that she was his! That her father and mother had beensatisfied about him and sent their blessing, and he might tell her so. It was wonderful! His heart thrilled with the thought of it. Of coursehe would go to her at once. He would start as soon as Rogers was throughwith him. He would go to Ganado. No, Keams. Which was it? He drew theletter out of his pocket and read it again, then replaced it. 

The fluttering curtain up at the window blew out and in, and when itblew out again it brought with it a flurry of papers like white leaves. The curtain had knocked over a paper-weight or vase or something thatheld them and set the papers free. The breeze caught them and flung themabout erratically, tossing one almost at his feet. He stooped to pick itup, thinking it might be of value to some one, and caught the name"Margaret" and "Dear Margaret" written several times on the sheet, with"Walpi, Walpi, Walpi, " filling the lower half of the page, as if someone had been practising it. 

And because these two words were just now keenly in his mind he reachedfor the second paper just a foot or two away and found more sentencesand words. A third paper contained an exact reproduction of the letterwhich Mrs. Tanner had given him purporting to come from Mrs. Brownleighto Margaret. What could it possibly mean?

In great astonishment he pulled out the other letter and compared them. They were almost identical save for a word here and there crossed outand rewritten. He stood looking mutely at the papers and then up at thewindow, as though an explanation might somehow be wafted down to him, not knowing what to think, his mind filled with vague alarm. 

Just at that moment the servant appeared. 

"Mr. Rogers says would you mind coming down to the corral. Miss Rosa hasa headache, and we're keeping the house still for her to sleep. That'sher window up there--" And he indicated the rose-bowered window with thefluttering curtain. 

Dazed and half suspicious of something, Gardley folded the two letterstogether and crushed them into his pocket, wondering what he ought to doabout it. The thought of it troubled him so that he only half gaveattention to the business in hand; but he gave his report and handedover certain documents. He was thinking that perhaps he ought to seeMiss Rosa and find out what she knew of Margaret's going and ask how shecame in possession of this other letter. 

"Now, " said Rogers, as the matter was concluded, "I owe you some money. If you'll just step up to the house with me I'll give it to you. I'dlike to settle matters up at once. "

"Oh, let it go till I come again, " said Gardley, impatient to be off. Hewanted to get by himself and think out a solution of the two letters. Hewas more than uneasy about Margaret without being able to give anysuitable explanation of why he should be. His main desire now was toride to Ganado and find out if the missionaries had left home, which waythey had gone, and whether they had met Margaret as planned. 

"No, step right up to the house with me, " insisted Rogers. "It won'ttake long, and I have the money in my safe. "

Gardley saw that the quickest way was to please Rogers, and he did notwish to arouse any questions, because he supposed, of course, his alarmwas mere foolishness. So they went together into Rogers's privateoffice, where his desk and safe were the principal furniture, and whereno servants ventured to come without orders. 

Rogers shoved a chair for Gardley and went over to his safe, turning thelittle nickel knob this way and that with the skill of one longaccustomed, and in a moment the thick door swung open and Rogers drewout a japanned cash-box and unlocked it. But when he threw the coverback he uttered an exclamation of angry surprise. The box was empty!

CHAPTER XXXII

Mr. Rogers strode to the door, forgetful of his sleeping daughteroverhead, and thundered out his call for James. The servant appeared atonce, but he knew nothing about the safe, and had not been in the officethat morning. Other servants were summoned and put through a rigidexamination. Then Rogers turned to the woman who had answered the doorfor Gardley and sent her up to call Rosa. 

But the woman returned presently with word that Miss Rosa was not in herroom, and there was no sign that her bed had been slept in during thenight. The woman's face was sullen. She did not like Rosa, but wasafraid of her. This to her was only another of Miss Rosa's pranks, andvery likely her doting father would manage to blame the servants withthe affair. 

Mr. Rogers's face grew stern. His eyes flashed angrily as he turned andstrode up the stairs to his daughter's room, but when he came down againhe was holding a note in his trembling hand and his face was ashenwhite. 

"Read that, Gardley, " he said, thrusting the note into Gardley's handsand motioning at the same time for the servants to go away. 

Gardley took the note, yet even as he read he noticed that the paperwas the same as those he carried in his pocket. There was a peculiarwatermark that made it noticeable. 

The note was a flippant little affair from Rosa, telling her father shehad gone away to be married and that she would let him know where shewas as soon as they were located. She added that he had forced her tothis step by being so severe with her and not allowing her lover to cometo see her. If he had been reasonable she would have stayed at home andlet him give her a grand wedding; but as it was she had only this way ofseeking her happiness. She added that she knew he would forgive her, andshe hoped he would come to see that her way had been best, and Forsythewas all that he could desire as a son-in-law. 

Gardley uttered an exclamation of dismay as he read, and, looking up, found the miserable eyes of the stricken father upon him. For the momenthis own alarm concerning Margaret and his perplexity about the letterswas forgotten in the grief of the man who had been his friend. 

"When did she go?" asked Gardley, quickly looking up. 

"She took supper with me and then went to her room, complaining of aheadache, " said the father, his voice showing his utter hopelessness. "She may have gone early in the evening, perhaps, for we all turned inabout nine o'clock to keep the house quiet on her account. "

"Have you any idea which way they went, east or west?" Gardley was thekeen adviser in a crisis now, his every sense on the alert. 

The old man shook his head. "It is too late now, " he said, still in thatcolorless voice. "They will have reached the railroad somewhere. Theywill have been married by this time. See, it is after ten o'clock!"

"Yes, if he marries her, " said Gardley, fiercely. He had no faith inForsythe. 

"You think--you don't think he would _dare_!" The old man straightenedup and fairly blazed in his righteous wrath. 

"I think he would dare anything if he thought he would not be caught. Heis a coward, of course. "

"What can we do?"

"Telegraph to detectives at all points where they would be likely toarrive and have them shadowed. Come, we will ride to the station atonce; but, first, could I go up in her room and look around? There mightbe some clue. "

"Certainly, " said Rogers, pointing hopelessly up the stairs; "the firstdoor to the left. But you'll find nothing. I looked everywhere. Shewouldn't have left a clue. While you're up there I'll interview theservants. Then we'll go. "

As he went up-stairs Gardley was wondering whether he ought to tellRogers of the circumstance of the two letters. What possible connectioncould there be between Margaret Earle's trip to Walpi with theBrownleighs and Rosa Rogers's elopement? When you come to think of it, what possible explanation was there for a copy of Mrs. Brownleigh'sletter to blow out of Rosa Rogers's bedroom window? How could it havegot there?

Rosa's room was in beautiful order, the roses nodding in at the window, the curtain blowing back and forth in the breeze and rippling open theleaves of a tiny Testament lying on her desk, as if it had been recentlyread. There was nothing to show that the owner of the room had taken ahasty flight. On the desk lay several sheets of note-paper with thepeculiar watermark. These caught his attention, and he took them up andcompared them with the papers in his pocket. It was a strange thing thatthat letter which had sent Margaret off into the wilderness with anunknown Indian should be written on the same kind of paper as this; andyet, perhaps, it was not so strange, after all. It probably was the onlynote-paper to be had in that region, and must all have been purchased atthe same place. 

The rippling leaves of the Testament fluttered open at the fly-leaf andrevealed Rosa's name and a date with Mrs. Brownleigh's name writtenbelow, and Gardley took it up, startled again to find Hazel Brownleighmixed up with the Rogers. He had not known that they had anything to dowith each other. And yet, of course, they would, being the missionariesof the region. 

The almost empty waste-basket next caught his eye, and here again wereseveral sheets of paper written over with words and phrases, words whichat once he recognized as part of the letter Mrs. Tanner had given him. He emptied the waste-basket out on the desk, thinking perhaps theremight be something there that would give a clue to where the elopers hadgone; but there was not much else in it except a little yellowed notewith the signature "Hazel Brownleigh" at the bottom. He glanced throughthe brief note, gathered its purport, and then spread it outdeliberately on the desk and compared the writing with the others, awild fear clutching at his heart. Yet he could not in any way explainwhy he was so uneasy. What possible reason could Rosa Rogers have forforging a letter to Margaret from Hazel Brownleigh?

Suddenly Rogers stood behind him looking over his shoulder. "What is it, Gardley? What have you found? Any clue?"

"No clue, " said Gardley, uneasily, "but something strange I cannotunderstand. I don't suppose it can possibly have anything to do withyour daughter, and yet it seems almost uncanny. This morning I stoppedat the Tanners' to let Miss Earle know I had returned, and was told shehad gone yesterday with a couple of Indians as guide to meet theBrownleighs at Keams or somewhere near there, and take a trip with themto Walpi to see the Hopi Indians. Mrs. Tanner gave me this letter fromMrs. Brownleigh, which Miss Earle had left behind. But when I reachedhere and was waiting for you some papers blew out of your daughter'swindow. When I picked them up I was startled to find that one of themwas an exact copy of the letter I had in my pocket. See! Here they are!I don't suppose there is anything to it, but in spite of me I am atrifle uneasy about Miss Earle. I just can't understand how that copy ofthe letter came to be here. "

Rogers was leaning over, looking at the papers. "What's this?" he asked, picking up the note that came with the Testament. He read each papercarefully, took in the little Testament with its fluttering fly-leafand inscription, studied the pages of words and alphabet, then suddenlyturned away and groaned, hiding his face in his hands. 

"What is it?" asked Gardley, awed with the awful sorrow in the strongman's attitude. 

"My poor baby!" groaned the father. "My poor little baby girl! I'vealways been afraid of that fatal gift of hers. Gardley, she could copyany handwriting in the world perfectly. She could write my name so itcould not be told from my own signature. She's evidently written thatletter. Why, I don't know, unless she wanted to get Miss Earle out ofthe way so it would be easier for her to carry out her plans. "

"It can't be!" said Gardley, shaking his head. "I can't see what herobject would be. Besides, where would she find the Indians? Mrs. Tannersaw the Indians. They came to the school after her with the letter, andwaited for her. Mrs. Tanner saw them ride off together. "

"There were a couple of strange Indians here yesterday, beggingsomething to eat, " said Rogers, settling down on a chair and resting hishead against the desk as if he had suddenly lost the strength to stand. 

"This won't do!" said Gardley. "We've got to get down to thetelegraph-office, you and I. Now try to brace up. Are the horses ready?Then we'll go right away. "

"You better question the servants about those Indians first, " saidRogers; and Gardley, as he hurried down the stairs, heard groan aftergroan from Rosa's room, where her father lingered in agony. 

Gardley got all the information he could about the Indians, and then thetwo men started away on a gallop to the station. As they passed theTanner house Gardley drew rein to call to Bud, who hurried out joyfullyto greet his friend, his face lighting with pleasure. 

"Bill, get on your horse in double-quick time and beat it out to campfor me, will you?" said Gardley, as he reached down and gripped Bud'srough young paw. "Tell Jasper Kemp to come back with you and meet me atthe station as quick as he can. Tell him to have the men where he cansignal them. We may have to hustle out on a long hunt; and, Bill, keepyour head steady and get back yourself right away. Perhaps I'll want youto help me. I'm a little anxious about Miss Earle, but you needn't tellanybody that but old Jasper. Tell him to hurry for all he's worth. "

Bud, with his eyes large with loyalty and trouble, noddedunderstandingly, returned the grip of the young man's hand with a clumsysqueeze, and sprang away to get his horse and do Gardley's bidding. Gardley knew he would ride as for his life, now that he knew Margaret'ssafety was at stake. 

Then Gardley rode on to the station and was indefatigable for two hourshunting out addresses, writing telegrams, and calling up long-distancetelephones. 

When all had been done that was possible Rogers turned a haggard face tothe young man. "I've been thinking, Gardley, that rash little girl ofmine may have got Miss Earle into some kind of a dangerous position. You ought to look after her. What can we do?"

"I'm going to, sir, " said Gardley, "just as soon as I've done everythingI can for you. I've already sent for Jasper Kemp, and we'll make a planbetween us and find out if Miss Earle is all right. Can you spare Jasperor will you need him?"

"By all means! Take all the men you need. I sha'n't rest easy till Iknow Miss Earle is safe. "

He sank down on a truck that stood on the station platform, hisshoulders slumping, his whole attitude as of one who was fatallystricken. It came over Gardley how suddenly old he looked, and haggardand gray! What a thing for the selfish child to have done to her father!Poor, silly child, whose fate with Forsythe would in all probability beanything but enviable!

But there was no time for sorrowful reflections. Jasper Kemp, stern, alert, anxious, came riding furiously down the street, Bud keeping evenpace with him. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

While Gardley briefly told his tale to Jasper Kemp, and the Scotchmanwas hastily scanning the papers with his keen, bright eyes, Bud stoodfrowning and listening intently. 

"Gee!" he burst forth. "That girl's a mess! 'Course she did it! Yououghta seen what all she didn't do the last six weeks of school. MissMar'get got so she shivered every time that girl came near her or lookedat her. She sure had her goat! Some nights after school, when shethought she's all alone, she just cried, she did. Why, Rosa had everyone of those guys in the back seat acting like the devil, and nobodyknew what was the matter. She wrote things on the blackboard right inthe questions, so's it looked like Miss Mar'get's writing; fiercethings, sometimes; and Miss Mar'get didn't know who did it. And she wasas jealous as a cat of Miss Mar'get. You all know what a case she had onthat guy from over by the fort; and she didn't like to have him evenlook at Miss Mar'get. Well, she didn't forget how he went away thatnight of the play. I caught her looking at her like she would like tomurder her. _Good night!_ Some look! The guy had a case on Miss Mar'get, all right, too, only she was onto him and wouldn't look at him nor lethim spoon nor nothing. But Rosa saw it all, and she just hated MissMar'get. Then once Miss Mar'get stopped her from going out to meet thatguy, too. Oh, she hated her, all right! And you can bet she wrote theletter! Sure she did! She wanted to get her away when that guy cameback. He was back yesterday. I saw him over by the run on that trailthat crosses the trail to the old cabin. He didn't see me. I got my eyeon him first, and I chucked behind some sage-brush, but he was here, allright, and he didn't mean any good. I follahed him awhile till hestopped and fixed up a place to camp. I guess he must 'a' stayed outlast night--"

A heavy hand was suddenly laid from behind on Bud's shoulder, and Rogersstood over him, his dark eyes on fire, his lips trembling. 

"Boy, can you show me where that was?" he asked, and there was anintensity in his voice that showed Bud that something serious was thematter. Boylike he dropped his eyes indifferently before this greatemotion. 

"Sure!"

"Best take Long Bill with you, Mr. Rogers, " advised Jasper Kemp, keenlyalive to the whole situation. "I reckon we'll all have to work together. My men ain't far off, " and he lifted his whistle to his lips and blewthe signal blasts. "The Kid here 'll want to ride to Keams to see if thelady is all safe and has met her friends. I reckon mebbe I better gostraight to Ganado and find out if them mission folks really gotstarted, and put 'em wise to what's been going on. They'll mebbe knowwho them Injuns was. I have my suspicions they weren't any friendlies. I didn't like that Injun the minute I set eyes on him hanging round theschool-house, but I wouldn't have stirred a step toward camp if I'd 'a'suspected he was come fur the lady. 'Spose you take Bud and Long Billand go find that camping-place and see if you find any trail showingwhich way they took. If you do, you fire three shots, and the men 'll bewith you. If you want the Kid, fire four shots. He can't be so fur awayby that time that he can't hear. He's got to get provisioned 'fore hestarts. Lead him out, Bud. We 'ain't got no time to lose. "

Bud gave one despairing look at Gardley and turned to obey. 

"That's all right, Bud, " said Gardley, with an understanding glance. "You tell Mr. Rogers all you know and show him the place, and then whenLong Bill comes you can take the cross-cut to the Long Trail and go withme. I'll just stop at the house as I go by and tell your mother I needyou. "

Bud gave one radiant, grateful look and sprang upon his horse, andRogers had hard work to keep up with him at first, till Bud gotinterested in giving him a detailed account of Forsythe's looks andacts. 

In less than an hour the relief expedition had started. Before night hadfallen Jasper Kemp, riding hard, arrived at the mission, told his story, procured a fresh horse, and after a couple of hours, rest started withBrownleigh and his wife for Keams Cañon. 

Gardley and Bud, riding for all they were worth, said little by the way. Now and then the boy stole glances at the man's face, and the deadweight of sorrow settled like lead, the heavier, upon his heart. Toowell he knew the dangers of the desert. He could almost read Gardley'sfears in the white, drawn look about his lips, the ashen circles underhis eyes, the tense, strained pose of his whole figure. Gardley's mindwas urging ahead of his steed, and his body could not relax. He wasanxious to go a little faster, yet his judgment knew it would not do, for his horse would play out before he could get another. They ate theircorn bread in the saddle, and only turned aside from the trail once todrink at a water-hole and fill their cans. They rode late into thenight, with only the stars and their wits to guide them. When theystopped to rest they did not wait to make a fire, but hobbled the horseswhere they might feed, and, rolling quickly in their blankets, lay downupon the ground. 

Bud, with the fatigue of healthy youth, would have slept till morning inspite of his fears, but Gardley woke him in a couple of hours, made himdrink some water and eat a bite of food, and they went on their wayagain. When morning broke they were almost to the entrance of KeamsCañon and both looked haggard and worn. Bud seemed to have aged in thenight, and Gardley looked at him almost tenderly. 

"Are you all in, kid?" he asked. 

"Naw!" answered Bud, promptly, with an assumed cheerfulness. "Feelinglike a four-year-old. Get on to that sky? Guess we're going to have someday! Pretty as a red wagon!"

Gardley smiled sadly. What would that day bring forth for the two whowent in search of her they loved? His great anxiety was to get to KeamsCañon and inquire. They would surely know at the trading-post whetherthe missionary and his party had gone that way. 

The road was still almost impassable from the flood; the two dauntlessriders picked their way slowly down the trail to the post. 

But the trader could tell them nothing comforting. The missionary hadnot been that way in two months, and there had been no party and no ladythere that week. A single strange Indian had come down the trail abovethe day before, stayed awhile, picked a quarrel with some men who werethere, and then ridden back up the steep trail again. He might have hada party with him up on the mesa, waiting. He had said something abouthis squaw. The trader admitted that he might have been drunk, but hefrowned as he spoke of him. He called him a "bad Indian. " Somethingunpleasant had evidently happened. 

The trader gave them a good, hot dinner, of which they stood sorely inneed, and because they realized that they must keep up their strengththey took the time to eat it. Then, procuring fresh horses, they climbedthe steep trail in the direction the trader said the Indian had taken. It was a slender clue, but it was all they had, and they must follow it. And now the travelers were very silent, as if they felt they weredrawing near to some knowledge that would settle the question for themone way or the other. As they reached the top at last, where they couldsee out across the plain, each drew a long breath like a gasp andlooked about, half fearing what he might see. 

Yes, there was the sign of a recent camp-fire, and a few tin cans andbits of refuse, nothing more. Gardley got down and searched carefully. Bud even crept about upon his hands and knees, but a single tiny bluebead like a grain of sand was all that rewarded his efforts. Some Indianhad doubtless camped here. That was all the evidence. Standing thus inhopeless uncertainty what to do next, they suddenly heard voices. Something familiar once or twice made Gardley lift his whistle and blowa blast. Instantly a silvery answer came ringing from the mesa a mile orso away and woke the echoes in the cañon. Jasper Kemp and his party hadtaken the longer way around instead of going down the cañon, and werejust arriving at the spot where Margaret and the squaw had waited twodays before for their drunken guide. But Jasper Kemp's whistle rang outagain, and he shot three times into the air, their signal to wait forsome important news. 

Breathlessly and in silence the two waited till the coming of the restof the party, and cast themselves down on the ground, feeling the suddenneed of support. Now that there was a possibility of some news, theyfelt hardly able to bear it, and the waiting for it was intolerable, tosuch a point of anxious tension were they strained. 

But when the party from Ganado came in sight their faces wore nobrightness of good news. Their greetings were quiet, sad, anxious, andJasper Kemp held out to Gardley an envelope. It was the one fromMargaret's mother's letter that she had dropped upon the trail. 

"We found it on the way from Ganado, just as we entered SteamboatCañon, " explained Jasper. 

"And didn't you search for a trail off in any other direction?" askedGardley, almost sharply. "They have not been here. At least only oneIndian has been down to the trader's. "

"There was no other trail. We looked, " said Jasper, sadly. "There was acamp-fire twice, and signs of a camp. We felt sure they had come thisway. "

Gardley shook his head and a look of abject despair came over his face. "There is no sign here, " he said. "They must have gone some other way. Perhaps the Indian has carried her off. Are the other men following?"

"No, Rogers sent them in the other direction after his girl. They foundthe camp all right. Bud tell you? We made sure we had found our trailand would not need them. "

Gardley dropped his head and almost groaned. 

Meanwhile the missionary had been riding around in radiating circlesfrom the dead camp-fire, searching every step of the way; and Bud, taking his cue from him, looked off toward the mesa a minute, thenstruck out in a straight line for it and rode off like mad. Suddenlythere was heard a shout loud and long, and Bud came riding back, wavingsomething small and white above his head. 

They gathered in a little knot, waiting for the boy, not speaking; andwhen he halted in their midst he fluttered down the handkerchief toGardley. 

"It's hers, all right. Gotter name all written out on the edge!" hedeclared, radiantly. 

The sky grew brighter to them all now. Eagerly Gardley sprang into hissaddle, no longer weary, but alert and eager for the trail. 

"You folks better go down to the trader's and get some dinner. You'llneed it! Bud and I'll go on. Mrs. Brownleigh looks all in. "

"No, " declared Hazel, decidedly. "We'll just snatch a bite here andfollow you at once. I couldn't enjoy a dinner till I know she is safe. "And so, though both Jasper Kemp and her husband urged her otherwise, shewould take a hasty meal by the way and hurry on. 

But Bud and Gardley waited not for others. They plunged wildly ahead. 

It seemed a long way to the eager hunters, from the place where Bud hadfound the handkerchief to the little note twisted around the redchessman. It was perhaps nearly a mile, and both the riders had searchedin all directions for some time before Gardley spied it. Eagerly heseized upon the note, recognizing the little red manikin with which hehad whiled away an hour with Margaret during one of her visits at thecamp. 

The note was written large and clear upon a sheet of writing-paper:

"I am Margaret Earle, school-teacher at Ashland. I am supposed to betraveling to Walpi, by way of Keams, to meet Mr. And Mrs. Brownleigh ofGanado. I am with an Indian, his squaw and papoose. The Indian said hewas sent to guide me, but he is drunk now and I am frightened. He hasacted strangely all the way. I do not know where I am. Please come andhelp me. "

Bud, sitting anxious like a statue upon his horse, read Gardley's faceas Gardley read the note. Then Gardley read it aloud to Bud, and beforethe last word was fairly out of his mouth both man and boy started as ifthey had heard Margaret's beloved voice calling them. It was not longbefore Bud found another scrap of paper a half-mile farther on, and thenanother and another, scattered at great distances along the way. Theonly way they had of being sure she had dropped them was that theyseemed to be the same kind of paper as that upon which the note waswritten. 

How that note with its brave, frightened appeal wrung the heart ofGardley as he thought of Margaret, unprotected, in terror and perhaps inperil, riding on she knew not where. What trials and fears had she notalready passed through! What might she not be experiencing even nowwhile he searched for her?

It was perhaps two hours before he found the little white stockingdropped where the trail divided, showing which way she had taken. Gardley folded it reverently and put it in his pocket. An hour later Budpounced upon the bedroom slipper and carried it gleefully to Gardley;and so by slow degrees, finding here and there a chessman or more paper, they came at last to the camp where the Indians had abandoned theirtrust and fled, leaving Margaret alone in the wilderness. 

It was then that Gardley searched in vain for any further clue, and, riding wide in every direction, stopped and called her name again andagain, while the sun grew lower and lower and shadows crept inlurking-places waiting for the swift-coming night. It was then that Bud, flying frantically from one spot to another, got down upon his kneesbehind a sage-bush when Gardley was not looking and mumbled a rough, hasty prayer for help. He felt like the old woman who, on being toldthat nothing but God could save the ship, exclaimed, "And has it come tothat?" Bud had felt all his life that there was a remote time in everylife when one might need to believe in prayer. The time had come forBud. 

 * * * * *

Margaret, on her knees in the sand of the desert praying for help, remembered the promise, "Before they call I will answer, and while theyare yet speaking I will hear, " and knew not that her deliverers were onthe way. 

The sun had been hot as it beat down upon the whiteness of the sand, andthe girl had crept under a sage-bush for shelter from it. The pain inher ankle was sickening. She had removed her shoe and bound the ankleabout with a handkerchief soaked with half of her bottle of witch-hazel, and so, lying quiet, had fallen asleep, too exhausted with pain andanxiety to stay awake any longer. 

When she awoke again the softness of evening was hovering overeverything, and she started up and listened. Surely, surely, she hadheard a voice calling her! She sat up sharply and listened. Ah! There itwas again, a faint echo in the distance. Was it a voice, or was it onlyher dreams mingling with her fancies?

Travelers in deserts, she had read, took all sorts of fancies, sawmirages, heard sounds that were not. But she had not been out longenough to have caught such a desert fever. Perhaps she was going to besick. Still that faint echo made her heart beat wildly. She draggedherself to her knees, then to her feet, standing painfully with theweight on her well foot. 

The suffering horse turned his anguished eyes and whinnied. Her heartached for him, yet there was no way she could assuage his pain or puthim out of his misery. But she must make sure if she had heard a voice. Could she possibly scale that rock down which she and her horse hadfallen? For then she might look out farther and see if there were anyone in sight. 

Painfully she crawled and crept, up and up, inch by inch, until at lastshe gained the little height and could look afar. 

There was no living thing in sight. The air was very clear. The eaglehad found his evening rest somewhere in a quiet crag. The long cornwaved on the distant plain, and all was deathly still once more. Therewas a hint of coming sunset in the sky. Her heart sank, and she wasabout to give up hope entirely, when, rich and clear, there it cameagain! A voice in the wilderness calling her name: "Margaret! Margaret!"

The tears rushed to her eyes and crowded in her throat. She could notanswer, she was so overwhelmed; and though she tried twice to call out, she could make no sound. But the call kept coming again and again:"Margaret! Margaret!" and it was Gardley's voice. Impossible! ForGardley was far away and could not know her need. Yet it was his voice. Had she died, or was she in delirium that she seemed to hear him callingher name?

But the call came clearer now: "Margaret! Margaret! I am coming!" andlike a flash her mind went back to the first night in Arizona when sheheard him singing, "From the Desert I Come to Thee!"

Now she struggled to her feet again and shouted, inarticulately andgladly through her tears. She could see him. It was Gardley. He wasriding fast toward her, and he shot three shots into the air above himas he rode, and three shrill blasts of his whistle rang out on the stillevening air. 

She tore the scarf from her neck that she had tied about it to keep thesun from blistering her, and waved it wildly in the air now, shouting inhappy, choking sobs. 

And so he came to her across the desert!

He sprang down before the horse had fairly reached her side, and, rushing to her, took her in his arms. 

"Margaret! My darling! I have found you at last!"

She swayed and would have fallen but for his arms, and then he saw herwhite face and knew she must be suffering. 

"You are hurt!" he cried. "Oh, what have they done to you?" And he laidher gently down upon the sand and dropped on his knees beside her. 

"Oh no, " she gasped, joyously, with white lips. "I'm all right now. Only my ankle hurts a little. We had a fall, the horse and I. Oh, go tohim at once and put him out of his pain. I'm sure his legs are broken. "

For answer Gardley put the whistle to his lips and blew a blast. Hewould not leave her for an instant. He was not sure yet that she was notmore hurt than she had said. He set about discovering at once, for hehad brought with him supplies for all emergencies. 

It was Bud who came riding madly across the mesa in answer to the call, reaching Gardley before any one else. Bud with his eyes shining, hischeeks blazing with excitement, his hair wildly flying in the breeze, his young, boyish face suddenly grown old with lines of anxiety. But youwouldn't have known from his greeting that it was anything more than apleasure excursion he had been on the past two days. 

"Good work, Kid! Whatcha want me t' do?"

It was Bud who arranged the camp and went back to tell the otherdetachments that Margaret was found; Bud who led the pack-horse up, unpacked the provisions, and gathered wood to start a fire. Bud waseverywhere, with a smudged face, a weary, gray look around his eyes, andhis hair sticking "seven ways for Sunday. " Yet once, when his labors ledhim near to where Margaret lay weak and happy on a couch of blankets, hegave her an unwonted pat on her shoulder and said in a low tone: "Hello, Gang! See you kept your nerve with you!" and then he gave her a grin allacross his dirty, tired face, and moved away as if he were half ashamedof his emotion. But it was Bud again who came and talked with her todivert her so that she wouldn't notice when they shot her horse. Hetalked loudly about a coyote they shot the night before, and acottontail they saw at Keams, and when he saw that she understood whatthe shot meant, and there were tears in her eyes, he gave her hand arough, bear squeeze and said, gruffly: "You should worry! He's betteroff now!" And when Gardley came back he took himself thoughtfully to adistance and busied himself opening tins of meat and soup. 

In another hour the Brownleighs arrived, having heard the signals, andthey had a supper around the camp-fire, everybody so rejoiced that therewere still quivers in their voices; and when any one laughed it soundedlike the echo of a sob, so great had been the strain of their anxiety. 

Gardley, sitting beside Margaret in the starlight afterward, her hand inhis, listened to the story of her journey, the strong, tender pressureof his fingers telling her how deeply it affected him to know the perilthrough which she had passed. Later, when the others were telling gaystories about the fire, and Bud lying full length in their midst hadfallen fast asleep, these two, a little apart from the rest, weremurmuring their innermost thoughts in low tones to each other, andrejoicing that they were together once more. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

They talked it over the next morning at breakfast as they sat around thefire. Jasper Kemp thought he ought to get right back to attend tothings. Mr. Rogers was all broken up, and might even need him to searchfor Rosa if they had not found out her whereabouts yet. He and FiddlingBoss, who had come along, would start back at once. They had had a goodnight's rest and had found their dear lady. What more did they need?Besides, there were not provisions for an indefinite stay for such alarge party, and there were none too many sources of supply in thisregion. 

The missionary thought that, now he was here, he ought to go on toWalpi. It was not more than two hours' ride there, and Hazel could staywith the camp while Margaret's ankle had a chance to rest and let theswelling subside under treatment. 

Margaret, however, rebelled. She did not wish to be an invalid, and wasvery sure she could ride without injury to her ankle. She wanted to seeWalpi and the queer Hopi Indians, now she was so near. So a compromisewas agreed upon. They would all wait in camp a couple of days, and thenif Margaret felt well enough they would go on, visit the Hopis, and sogo home together. 

Bud pleaded to be allowed to stay with them, and Jasper Kemp promised tomake it all right with his parents. 

So for two whole, long, lovely days the little party of five camped onthe mesa and enjoyed sweet converse. It is safe to say that never in allBud's life will he forget or get away from the influences of that day insuch company. 

Gardley and the missionary proved to be the best of physicians, andMargaret's ankle improved hourly under their united treatment ofcompresses, lotions, and rest. About noon on Saturday they broke camp, mounted their horses, and rode away across the stretch of white sand, through tall cornfields growing right up out of the sand, closer andcloser to the great mesa with the castle-like pueblos five hundred feetabove them on the top. It seemed to Margaret like suddenly being droppedinto Egypt or the Holy Land, or some of the Babylonian excavations, socurious and primitive and altogether different from anything else shehad ever seen did it all appear. She listened, fascinated, whileBrownleigh told about this strange Hopi land, the strangest spot inAmerica. Spanish explorers found them away back years before thePilgrims landed, and called the country Tuscayan. They built their homesup high for protection from their enemies. They lived on the corn, pumpkins, peaches, and melons which they raised in the valley, plantingthe seeds with their hands. It is supposed they got their seeds firstfrom the Spaniards years ago. They make pottery, cloth, and baskets, andare a busy people. 

There are seven villages built on three mesas in the northern desert. One of the largest, Orabi, has a thousand inhabitants. Walpi numbersabout two hundred and thirty people, all living in this one greatbuilding of many rooms. They are divided into brotherhoods, orphratries, and each brotherhood has several large families. They areruled by a speaker chief and a war chief elected by a council of clanelders. 

Margaret learned with wonder that all the water these people used had tobe carried by the women in jars on their backs five hundred feet up thesteep trail. 

Presently, as they drew nearer, a curious man with his hair "banged"like a child's, and garments much like those usually worn byscarecrows--a shapeless kind of shirt and trousers--appeared along thesteep and showed them the way up. Margaret and the missionary's wifeexclaimed in horror over the little children playing along the very edgeof the cliffs above as carelessly as birds in trees. 

High up on the mesa at last, how strange and weird it seemed! Far belowthe yellow sand of the valley; fifteen miles away a second mesastretching dark; to the southwest, a hundred miles distant, the dimoutlines of the San Francisco peaks. Some little children on burroscrossing the sand below looked as if they were part of a curiousmoving-picture, not as if they were little living beings taking life asseriously as other children do. The great, wide desert stretching far!The bare, solid rocks beneath their feet! The curious houses behindthem! It all seemed unreal to Margaret, like a great picture-bookspread out for her to see. She turned from gazing and found Gardley'seyes upon her adoringly, a tender understanding of her mood in hisglance. She thrilled with pleasure to be here with him; a soft flushspread over her cheeks and a light came into her eyes. 

They found the Indians preparing for one of their most famousceremonies, the snake dance, which was to take place in a few days. Foralmost a week the snake priests had been busy hunting rattlesnakes, building altars, drawing figures in the sand, and singing weird songs. On the ninth day the snakes are washed in a pool and driven near a pileof sand. The priests, arrayed in paint, feathers, and charms, come outin line and, taking the live snakes in their mouths, parade up and downthe rocks, while the people crowd the roofs and terraces of the pueblosto watch. There are helpers to whip the snakes and keep them frombiting, and catchers to see that none get away. In a little while thepriests take the snakes down on the desert and set them free, sendingthem north, south, east, and west, where it is supposed they will takethe people's prayers for rain to the water serpent in the underworld, who is in some way connected with the god of the rain-clouds. 

It was a strange experience, that night in Walpi: the primitiveaccommodations; the picturesque, uncivilized people; the shy glancesfrom dark, eager eyes. To watch two girls grinding corn between twostones, and a little farther off their mother rolling out her dough withan ear of corn, and cooking over an open fire, her pot slung from acrude crane over the blaze--it was all too unreal to be true. 

But the most interesting thing about it was to watch the "Aneshodi"going about among them, his face alight with warm, human love; hishearty laugh ringing out in a joke that the Hopis seemed to understand, making himself one with them. It came to Margaret suddenly to rememberthe pompous little figure of the Rev. Frederick West, and to fancy himgoing about among these people and trying to do them good. Before sheknew what she was doing she laughed aloud at the thought. Then, ofcourse, she had to explain to Bud and Gardley, who looked at herinquiringly. 

"Aw! Gee! _Him?_ _He_ wasn't a minister! He was a _mistake_! Fergit him, the poor simp!" growled Bud, sympathetically. Then his eyes softened ashe watched Brownleigh playing with three little Indian maids, having afine romp. "Gee! he certainly is a peach, isn't he?" he murmured, hiswhole face kindling appreciatively. "Gee! I bet that kid never forgetsthat!"

The Sunday was a wonderful day, when the missionary gathered the peopletogether and spoke to them in simple words of God--their god who madethe sky, the stars, the mountains, and the sun, whom they call bydifferent names, but whom He called God. He spoke of the Book of Heaventhat told about God and His great love for men, so great that He sentHis son to save them from their sin. It was not a long sermon, but avery beautiful one; and, listening to the simple, wonderful words oflife that fell from the missionary's earnest lips and were translated byhis faithful Indian interpreter, who always went with him on hisexpeditions, watching the faces of the dark, strange people as theytook in the marvelous meaning, the little company of visitors wasstrangely moved. Even Bud, awed beyond his wont, said, shyly, toMargaret:

"Gee! It's something fierce not to be born a Christian and know allthat, ain't it?"

Margaret and Gardley walked a little way down the narrow path that ledout over the neck of rock less than a rod wide that connects the greatpromontory with the mesa. The sun was setting in majesty over thedesert, and the scene was one of breathless beauty. One might fancy itmight look so to stand on the hills of God and look out over creationwhen all things have been made new. 

They stood for a while in silence. Then Margaret looked down at thenarrow path worn more than a foot deep in the solid rock by the tengenerations of feet that had been passing over it. 

"Just think, " she said, "of all the feet, little and big, that havewalked here in all the years, and of all the souls that have stood andlooked out over this wonderful sight! It must be that somehow in spiteof their darkness they have reached out to the God who made this, andhave found a way to His heart. They couldn't look at this and not feelHim, could they? It seems to me that perhaps some of those poorcreatures who have stood here and reached up blindly after the Creatorof their souls have, perhaps, been as pleasing to Him as those who haveknown about Him from childhood. "

Gardley was used to her talking this way. He had not been in her Sundaymeetings for nothing. He understood and sympathized, and now his handreached softly for hers and held it tenderly. After a moment of silencehe said:

"I surely think if God could reach and find me in the desert of my life, He must have found them. I sometimes think I was a greater heathen thanall these, because I knew and would not see. "

Margaret nestled her hand in his and looked up joyfully into his face. "I'm so glad you know Him now!" she murmured, happily. 

They stood for some time looking out over the changing scene, till thecrimson faded into rose, the silver into gray; till the stars bloomedout one by one, and down in the valley across the desert a lighttwinkled faintly here and there from the camps of the Hopi shepherds. 

They started home at daybreak the next morning, the whole company ofIndians standing on the rocks to send them royally on their way, pressing simple, homely gifts upon them and begging them to return soonagain and tell the blessed story. 

A wonderful ride they had back to Ganado, where Gardley left Margaretfor a short visit, promising to return for her in a few days when shewas rested, and hastened back to Ashland to his work; for his soul washappy now and at ease, and he felt he must get to work at once. Rogerswould need him. Poor Rogers! Had he found his daughter yet? Poor, sillychild-prodigal!

But when Gardley reached Ashland he found among his mail awaiting him atelegram. His uncle was dead, and the fortune which he had been broughtup to believe was his, and which he had idly tossed away in a moment ofrecklessness, had been restored to him by the uncle's last will, madesince Gardley's recent visit home. The fortune was his again!

Gardley sat in his office on the Rogers ranch and stared hard at theadobe wall opposite his desk. That fortune would be great! He could dosuch wonderful things for Margaret now. They could work out their dreamstogether for the people they loved. He could see the shadows of thosedreams--a beautiful home for Margaret out on the trail she loved, wherewildness and beauty and the mountain she called hers were not far away;horses in plenty and a luxurious car when they wanted to take a trip;journeys East as often as they wished; some of the ideal appliances forthe school that Margaret loved; a church for the missionary andconvenient halls where he could speak at his outlying districts; a tripto the city for Mom Wallis, where she might see a real picture-gallery, her one expressed desire this side of heaven, now that she had taken toreading Browning and had some of it explained to her. Oh, and a lot ofwonderful things! These all hung in the dream-picture before Gardley'seyes as he sat at his desk with that bit of yellow paper in his hand. 

He thought of what that money had represented to him in the past. Reckless days and nights of folly as a boy and young man at college;ruthless waste of time, money, youth; shriveling of soul, till Margaretcame and found and rescued him! How wonderful that he had been rescued!That he had come to his senses at last, and was here in a man'sposition, doing a man's work in the world! Now, with all that money, there was no need for him to work and earn more. He could live idly allhis days and just have a good time--make others happy, too. But still hewould not have this exhilarating feeling that he was supplying his ownand Margaret's necessities by the labor of hand and brain. The littletelegram in his hand seemed somehow to be trying to snatch from him allthis material prosperity that was the symbol of that spiritualregeneration which had become so dear to him. 

He put his head down on his clasped hands upon the desk then and prayed. Perhaps it was the first great prayer of his life. 

"O God, let me be strong enough to stand this that has come upon me. Help me to be a man in spite of money! Don't let me lose my manhood andmy right to work. Help me to use the money in the right way and not todwarf myself, nor spoil our lives with it. " It was a great prayer for aman such as Gardley had been, and the answer came swiftly in hisconviction. 

He lifted up his head with purpose in his expression, and, folding thetelegram, put it safely back into his pocket. He would not tell Margaretof it--not just yet. He would think it out--just the right way--and hedid not believe he meant to give up his position with Rogers. He hadaccepted it for a year in good faith, and it was his business to fulfilthe contract. Meantime, this money would perhaps make possible hismarriage with Margaret sooner than he had hoped. 

Five minutes later Rogers telephoned to the office. 

"I've decided to take that shipment of cattle and try that new stock, provided you will go out and look at them and see that everything isall O. K. I couldn't go myself now. Don't feel like going anywhere, youknow. You wouldn't need to go for a couple of weeks. I've just had aletter from the man, and he says he won't be ready sooner. Say, whydon't you and Miss Earle get married and make this a wedding-trip? Shecould go to the Pacific coast with you. It would be a nice trip. Then Icould spare you for a month or six weeks when you got back if you wantedto take her East for a little visit. "

Why not? Gardley stumbled out his thanks and hung up the receiver, hisface full of the light of a great joy. How were the blessings pouringdown upon his head these days? Was it a sign that God was pleased withhis action in making good what he could where he had failed? And Rogers!How kind he was! Poor Rogers, with his broken heart and his strickenhome! For Rosa had come home again a sadder, wiser child; and her fatherseemed crushed with the disgrace of it all. 

Gardley went to Margaret that very afternoon. He told her only that hehad had some money left him by his uncle, which would make it possiblefor him to marry at once and keep her comfortably now. He was to be sentto California on a business trip. Would she be married and go with him?

Margaret studied the telegram in wonder. She had never asked Gardleymuch about his circumstances. The telegram merely stated that hisuncle's estate was left to him. To her simple mind an estate might be afew hundred dollars, enough to furnish a plain little home; and her facelighted with joy over it. She asked no questions, and Gardley said nomore about the money. He had forgotten that question, comparatively, inthe greater possibility of joy. 

Would she be married in ten days and go with him?

Her eyes met his with an answering joy, and yet he could see that therewas a trouble hiding somewhere. He presently saw what it was withoutneeding to be told. Her father and mother! Of course, they would bedisappointed! They would want her to be married at home!

"But Rogers said we could go and visit them for several weeks on ourreturn, " he said; and Margaret's face lighted up. 

"Oh, that would be beautiful, " she said, wistfully; "and perhaps theywon't mind so much--though I always expected father would marry me if Iwas ever married; still, if we can go home so soon and for so long--andMr. Brownleigh would be next best, of course. "

"But, of course, your father must marry you, " said Gardley, determinedly. "Perhaps we could persuade him to come, and your mother, too. "

"Oh no, they couldn't possibly, " said Margaret, quickly, a shade ofsadness in her eyes. "You know it costs a lot to come out here, andministers are never rich. "

It was then that Gardley's eyes lighted with joy. His money could takethis bugbear away, at least. However, he said nothing about the money. 

"Suppose we write to your father and mother and put the matter beforethem. See what they say. We'll send the letters to-night. You writeyour mother and I'll write your father. "

Margaret agreed and sat down at once to write her letter, while Gardley, on the other side of the room, wrote his, scratching away contentedlywith his fountain-pen and looking furtively now and then toward thebowed head over at the desk. 

Gardley did not read his letter to Margaret. She wondered a little atthis, but did not ask, and the letters were mailed, withspecial-delivery stamps on them. Gardley awaited their replies withgreat impatience. 

He filled in the days of waiting with business. There were letters towrite connected with his fortune, and there were arrangements to be madefor his trip. But the thing that occupied the most of his time andthought was the purchase and refitting of a roomy old ranch-house in acharming location, not more than three miles from Ashland, on the roadto the camp. 

It had been vacant for a couple of years past, the owner having goneabroad permanently and the place having been offered for sale. Margarethad often admired it in her trips to and from the camp, and Gardleythought of it at once when it became possible for him to think ofpurchasing a home in the West. 

There was a great stone fireplace, and the beams of the ceilings andpillars of the porch and wide, hospitable rooms were of tree-trunks withthe bark on them. With a little work it could be made roughly butartistically habitable. Gardley had it cleaned up, not disturbing thetangle of vines and shrubbery that had had their way since the lastowner had left them and which had made a perfect screen from the roadfor the house. 

Behind this screen the men worked--most of them the men from thebunk-house, whom Gardley took into his confidence. 

The floors were carefully scrubbed under the direction of Mom Wallis, and the windows made shining. Then the men spent a day bringing greatloads of tree-boughs and filling the place with green fragrance, untilthe big living-room looked like a woodland bower. Gardley made a raidupon some Indian friends of his and came back with several fine Navajorugs and blankets, which he spread about the room luxuriously on thefloor and over the rude benches which the men had constructed. Theypiled the fireplace with big logs, and Gardley took over some of his ownpersonal possessions that he had brought back from the East with him togive the place a livable look. Then he stood back satisfied. The placewas fit to bring his bride and her friends to. Not that it was as itshould be. That would be for Margaret to do, but it would serve as atemporary stopping-place if there came need. If no need came, why, theplace was there, anyway, hers and his. A tender light grew in his eyesas he looked it over in the dying light of the afternoon. Then he wentout and rode swiftly to the telegraph-office and found these twotelegrams, according to the request in his own letter to Mr. Earle. 

Gardley's telegram read:

 Congratulations. Will come as you desire. We await your advice. Have written. --FATHER. 

He saddled his horse and hurried to Margaret with hers, and togetherthey read:

 Dear child! So glad for you. Of course you will go. I am sending you some things. Don't take a thought for us. We shall look forward to your visit. Our love to you both. --MOTHER. 

Margaret, folded in her lover's arms, cried out her sorrow and her joy, and lifted up her face with happiness. Then Gardley, with great joy, thought of the surprise he had in store for her and laid his faceagainst hers to hide the telltale smile in his eyes. 

For Gardley, in his letter to his future father-in-law, had written ofhis newly inherited fortune, and had not only inclosed a check for agood sum to cover all extra expense of the journey, but had said that aprivate car would be at their disposal, not only for themselves, but forany of Margaret's friends and relatives whom they might choose toinvite. As he had written this letter he was filled with deepthanksgiving that it was in his power to do this thing for his deargirl-bride. 

The morning after the telegrams arrived Gardley spent several hourswriting telegrams and receiving them from a big department store in thenearest great city, and before noon a big shipment of goods was on itsway to Ashland. Beds, bureaus, wash-stands, chairs, tables, dishes, kitchen utensils, and all kinds of bedding, even to sheets andpillow-cases, he ordered with lavish hand. After all, he must furnishthe house himself, and let Margaret weed it out or give it awayafterward, if she did not like it. He was going to have a house partyand he must be ready. When all was done and he was just about to mounthis horse again he turned back and sent another message, ordering apiano. 

"Why, it's _great_!" he said to himself, as he rode back to his office. "It's simply great to be able to do things just when I need them! Inever knew what fun money was before. But then I never had Margaret tospend it for, and she's worth the whole of it at once!"

The next thing he ordered was a great easy carriage with plenty of roomto convey Mother Earle and her friends from the train to the house. 

The days went by rapidly enough, and Margaret was so busy that she hadlittle time to wonder and worry why her mother did not write her thelong, loving, motherly good-by letter to her little girlhood that shehad expected to get. Not until three days before the wedding did it comeover her that she had had but three brief, scrappy letters from hermother, and they not a whole page apiece. What could be the matter withmother? She was almost on the point of panic when Gardley came andbundled her on to her horse for a ride. 

Strangely enough, he directed their way through Ashland and down to thestation, and it was just about the time of the arrival of the eveningtrain. 

Gardley excused himself for a moment, saying something about an errand, and went into the station. Margaret sat on her horse, watching theoncoming train, the great connecting link between East and West, andwondered if it would bring a letter from mother. 

The train rushed to a halt, and behold some passengers were getting offfrom a private car! Margaret watched them idly, thinking more about anexpected letter than about the people. Then suddenly she awoke to thefact that Gardley was greeting them. Who could they be?

There were five of them, and one of them looked like Jane! Dear Jane!She had forgotten to write her about this hurried wedding. How differentit all was going to be from what she and Jane had planned for each otherin their dear old school-day dreams! And that young man that Gardley wasshaking hands with now looked like Cousin Dick! She hadn't seen him forthree years, but he must look like that now; and the younger girl besidehim might be Cousin Emily! But, oh, who were the others? _Father!_ AndMOTHER!

Margaret sprang from her horse with a bound and rushed into her mother'sarms. The interested passengers craned their necks and looked their fillwith smiles of appreciation as the train took up its way again, havingdropped the private car on the side track. 

Dick and Emily rode the ponies to the house, while Margaret nestled inthe back seat of the carriage between her father and mother, and Janegot acquainted with Gardley in the front seat of the carriage. Margaretnever even noticed where they were going until the carriage turned inand stopped before the door of the new house, and Mrs. Tanner, furtivelycasting behind her the checked apron she had worn, came out to shakehands with the company and tell them supper was all ready, before shewent back to her deserted boarding-house. Even Bud was going to stay atthe new house that night, in some cooked-up capacity or other, and allthe men from the bunk-house were hiding out among the trees to seeMargaret's father and mother and shake hands if the opportunity offered. 

The wonder and delight of Margaret when she saw the house inside andknew that it was hers, the tears she shed and smiles that grew almostinto hysterics when she saw some of the incongruous furnishings, are allpast describing. Margaret was too happy to think. She rushed from oneroom to another. She hugged her mother and linked her arm in herfather's for a walk across the long piazza; she talked to Emily and Dickand Jane; and then rushed out to find Gardley and thank him again. Andall this time she could not understand how Gardley had done it, for shehad not yet comprehended his fortune. 

Gardley had asked his sisters to come to the wedding, not much expectingthey would accept, but they had telegraphed at the last minute theywould be there. They arrived an hour or so before the ceremony; gushedover Margaret; told Gardley she was a "sweet thing"; said the house was"dandy for a house party if one had plenty of servants, but they shouldthink it would be dull in winter"; gave Margaret a diamond sunburst pin, a string of pearls, and an emerald bracelet set in diamond chips; anddeparted immediately after the ceremony. They had thought they were thechief guests, but the relief that overspread the faces of those guestswho were best beloved by both bride and groom was at once visible ontheir departure. Jasper Kemp drew a long breath and declared to LongBill that he was glad the air was growing pure again. Then all those oldfriends from the bunk-house filed in to the great tables heavily loadedwith good things, the abundant gift of the neighborhood, and sat down tothe wedding supper, heartily glad that the "city lady and her gals"--asMom Wallis called them in a suppressed whisper--had chosen not to stayover a train. 

The wedding had been in the school-house, embowered in foliage and allthe flowers the land afforded, decorated by the loving hands ofMargaret's pupils, old and young. She was attended by the entire schoolmarching double file before her, strewing flowers in her way. Themissionary's wife played the wedding-march, and the missionary assistedthe bride's father with the ceremony. Margaret's dress was a simplewhite muslin, with a little real lace and embroidery handed down fromformer generations, the whole called into being by Margaret's mother. Even Gardley's sisters had said it was "perfectly dear. " The wholeneighborhood was at the wedding. 

And when the bountiful wedding-supper was eaten the entire company offavored guests stood about the new piano and sang "Blest Be the Tie thatBinds"--with Margaret playing for them. 

Then there was a little hurry at the last, Margaret getting into thepretty traveling dress and hat her mother had brought, and kissing hermother good-by--though happily not for long this time. 

Mother and father and the rest of the home party were to wait untilmorning, and the missionary and his wife were to stay with them thatnight and see them to their car the next day. 

So, waving and throwing kisses back to the others, they rode away to thestation, Bud pridefully driving the team from the front seat. 

Gardley had arranged for a private apartment on the train, and nothingcould have been more luxurious in traveling than the place where he ledhis bride. Bud, scuttling behind with a suit-case, looked around himwith all his eyes before he said a hurried good-by, and murmured underhis breath: "Gee! Wisht I was goin' all the way!"

Bud hustled off as the train got under way, and Margaret and Gardleywent out to the observation platform to wave a last farewell. 

The few little blurring lights of Ashland died soon in the distance, andthe desert took on its vast wideness beneath a starry dome; but off inthe East a purple shadow loomed, mighty and majestic, and rising slowlyover its crest a great silver disk appeared, brightening as it came andpouring a silver mist over the purple peak. 

"My mountain!" said Margaret, softly. 

And Gardley, drawing her close to him, stooped to lay his lips uponhers. 

"My darling!" he answered. 

THE END