From the singing, it was evident that the men were approaching the Clayton camp. In a moment more, they were there. Would they be seated? John Clayton had asked. So, around the camp fire they grouped, their faces and forms indistinct in the flickering light. They made a weird and picturesque group against the darkness of the night. "An' phwat do yez think now of a round-up?" asked Mike Maloney, of night school celebrity. Mike had been the star pupil in arithmetic. "Splendid!" said Esther, with contagious enthusiasm. "To see that host of cattle approach, the ropes swinging, the horses rearing and plunging, and the magnificent setting of the mountains at sunset,--why, it was glorious!" The men grinned their delight. Bill Weeks then grew eloquent about cattle. "We come across a herd o' antelopes to-day," interrupted another. Bill Weeks returned again to his favorite theme. Cattle were his life. In the midst of a dissertation on their good points, he was again interrupted with: "Oh, cut that out! Ye kin talk cattle any old day. We wants ter hear Miss Bright sing." "Yes, sing," all clamored. "_Do_ sing!" "What shall I sing?" "'Oft in the Stilly Night,'" one suggested. But they were not satisfied with one song, and called loudly for another. Then she sang, "Flee as a bird to Your Mountain." Esther Bright, as she stood and sang that night, was a picture one could never forget. Then around the crackling fire, story after story was told. The fire burned low. The dome above sparkled with myriads of stars. At last the cowboys rose, and returned to their camp. "Now we'll heap up the fire for the night, Kenneth," said John Clayton, "and arrange our shakedowns." "'Shakedowns,' John?" said his wife. "You don't call a blanket and cushion on a mesa a shakedown, do you?" "Why not?" Then the two men withdrew to the farther side of the fire. The women crawled into their blankets, and soon felt the warmth of the still heated earth upon which they lay. "Good night!" called the men's voices, and "Good night!" returned the women. Then silence brooded over the camp. For the first time in her life, Esther was bedded on the ground. Her face was turned upward, her eyes, fixed upon the starry deeps. Hour after hour went by. The regular breathing of her fellow-travelers assured her that all were asleep. She could not sleep. The marvelous scene above her grew upon her. She lay still, looking, looking into the infinite, that infinite around her, above her, beyond and beyond forever, who knows whither? The air, at first dark about her, grew into a weird, wonderful light. The dome grew vaster and vaster; and, with the marvelous expansion, she began to realize stars. They seemed to move from their solid ebon background, and to float in space.