Ellen colored and turned away, ostensibly for more water. The young soldier again seemed to sink into a faint and again she bathed and soothed his lips and head with the cool water, using her own modest apron to lay across his head as a bandage. Without opening his eyes, the young man faintly gasped: "Will you tell me where I am and what has happened?" "Indeed, sir, I do not know. I found you lying here when I came along the path, and have done what I could to help you to recover." Ellen asked no questions of the young man, her native modesty closing her lips; yet she was deeply anxious to know what had caused the singular accident. "Be good enough to hold my arm up, so the blood may not surge so painfully in the wound, will you?" Ellen obediently held up his arm, resting his elbow on her own knee to give it a firmer support. "The last I remember," whispered the young man, "two horsemen were coming towards me, and one seemed to threaten me with an open knife or dagger. I threw up my hand to ward the blow from my heart, and I knew no more." This peculiar story seemed to imply to Ellen's mind that some of her own people had noted the young man, and had tried either to kill or maim him. But she said nothing. Presently the girl grew brave enough to look at the handsome face beside her, as the eyes now remained closed, and the stranger seemed too exhausted to talk more. How fine and silky was the dark mustache which drooped charmingly over the well-cut mouth. The lips were very full; the chin was not so handsome and well-cut as the mouth; but the nose was fine, and the nostrils were delicate and arching; while the whole face was the handsomest she had ever seen, excepting that always handsomest of soldiers, Captain Van Arden. A vague wonder possessed her, why it was that her own boy friends and lovers were never so brilliant, so stately and so fine-featured as were the few strangers she had seen. Were the "gentiles" all thus fascinating and charming in every way? Why must "Mormons" be always plain and uninteresting? "Do you think you could help me off these beastly bushes?" asked the young man. "They make a very uncomfortable resting place." Ellen hurriedly sought a place where she dragged away a few loose dried sticks and other debris, and then with all the strength she could muster, she half dragged, half assisted the stranger to the soft earthy couch under the willow and cottonwood trees. The light of the afternoon sun fell in dancing glints and shadows on Ellen's brown tresses. The flowers on her hair gave her the look of a woodland sprite, which the dun-colored gown she wore, plain of skirt, but trimmed with ripples and ruffles of cunning device about the arms and shoulders, only increased. The flying draperies caught and flecked the sun and shadows of the cottonwood shade above them, making her resemble indeed a leaf-clothed maid, the occasional sunbeams deepening her eyes to their richest shade of chestnut brown.