"Leave! Going! Where to?" she asked, and her voice trembled in spite of herself. She clasped her hands tightly, and he could see the flash of the ring he had given her. She had put it on with the Indian dress. "That does not matter much, does it?" he returned; "but somewhere, far enough up the lake not to trouble you again while you stay. Come." She walked beside him without another word; words seemed so useless. She had said words over and over again to herself all that day--words of his wrong to her in not telling her of that other woman, words of reproach, bitter and keen; yet none of her reasoning kept her from wanting to touch his hand as he walked beside her. But she did not. Even when they reached the level by the springs, she only looked her farewell to him, but did not speak. "Good-by," he said, in a voice that was not like Dan's voice. She merely bowed her head, and walked away toward the tent where she heard Mrs. Huzzard laughing. She halted near the cabin, and then hurried on, dreading to enter it yet, lest she should meet the man she was trying to avoid. Overton watched her until she reached the tent. The moon had just escaped the horizon, and threw its soft misty light over all the place. He pulled his hat low over his eyes, and, turning, took the opposite direction. Only a few minutes elapsed when Lyster remembered he had promised Dan to look after Harris, and rose to go to the cabin. "I will go, too," said 'Tana, filled with nervous dread lest he encounter some one on her threshold, though she had all reason to expect that her disguised visitor had come and gone ere that. "Well, well, 'Tana, you are a restless mortal," said Mrs. Huzzard. "You've only just come, and now you must be off again. What did you do that you wanted to be all alone for this evening? Read verses, I'll go bail." "No, I didn't read verses," answered 'Tana. "But you needn't go along to the cabin." "Well, I will then. You are not fit to sleep alone. And, if it wasn't for the beastly snakes!--" "We will go and see Harris," said the girl, and so they entered his cabin, where he sat alone with a bright light burning. Some newspapers, brought by the captain, were spread before him on a rough reading stand rigged up by one of the miners. He looked pale and tired, as though the effort of perusing them had been rather too much for him. Listen as she might, the girl could hear never a sound from her own cabin. She stood by the blanket door, connecting the two rooms, but not a breath came to her. She sighed with relief at the certainty that he had come and gone. She would never see him again. "Shall I light your lamp?" asked Lyster; and, scarce waiting for a reply, he drew back the blanket and entered the darkness of the other cabin. Two of the miners came to the door just then, detailed to look after Harris for the night. One was the good-natured, talkative Emmons.