Late in the afternoon, as the ruddy sun split its last flame in the ragged notch of the western wall, Bess walked with Venters along the eastern terrace, up the long, weathered slope, under the great stone bridge. They entered the narrow gorge to climb around the fence long before built there by Venters. Farther than this she had never been. Twilight had already fallen in the gorge. It brightened to waning shadow in the wider ascent. He showed her Balancing Rock, of which he had often told her, and explained its sinister leaning over the outlet. Shuddering, she looked down the long, pale incline with its closed-in, toppling walls. “What an awful trail! Did you carry me up here?” “I did, surely,” replied he. “It frightens me, somehow. Yet I never was afraid of trails. I’d ride anywhere a horse could go, and climb where he couldn’t. But there’s something fearful here. I feel as—as if the place was watching me.” “Look at this rock. It’s balanced here—balanced perfectly. You know I told you the cliff-dwellers cut the rock, and why. But they’re gone and the rock waits. Can’t you see—feel how it waits here? I moved it once, and I’ll never dare again. A strong heave would start it. Then it would fall and bang, and smash that crag, and jar the walls, and close forever the outlet to Deception Pass!” “Ah! When you come back I’ll steal up here and push and push with all my might to roll the rock and close forever the outlet to the Pass!” She said it lightly, but in the undercurrent of her voice was a heavier note, a ring deeper than any ever given mere play of words. “Bess!... You can’t dare me! Wait till I come back with supplies—then roll the stone.” “I—was—in—fun.” Her voice now throbbed low. “Always you must be free to go when you will. Go now... this place presses on me—stifles me.” “I’m going—but you had something to tell me?” “Yes.... Will you—come back?” “I’ll come if I live.” “But—but you mightn’t come?” “That’s possible, of course. It’ll take a good deal to kill me. A man couldn’t have a faster horse or keener dog. And, Bess, I’ve guns, and I’ll use them if I’m pushed. But don’t worry.” “I’ve faith in you. I’ll not worry until after four days. Only—because you mightn’t come—I _must_ tell you—” She lost her voice. Her pale face, her great, glowing, earnest eyes, seemed to stand alone out of the gloom of the gorge. The dog whined, breaking the silence. “I _must_ tell you—because you mightn’t come back,” she whispered. “You _must_ know what—what I think of your goodness—of you. Always I’ve been tongue-tied. I seemed not to be grateful. It was deep in my heart. Even now—if I were other than I am—I couldn’t tell you. But I’m nothing—only a rustler’s girl—nameless—infamous. You’ve saved me—and I’m—I’m yours to do with as you like.... With all my heart and soul—I love you!” CHAPTER XV. SHADOWS ON THE SAGE-SLOPE