Here she paused, her heart too full to go on. Neither spoke, and when they had reached the foot of the hill and the long, level stretch of road lay before them, the horses started into a swift pace across the plain. On, on they went, gradually slowing into a steady, swinging gait. Both horses were single-footers, and they moved along without any apparent effort. How delightful it was! How Bess enjoyed every moment! The brisk morning air painted her cheeks rosily and filled her large, brown eyes with sparkling excitement. Occasionally a little cry of keenest pleasure escaped Bess’ lips. Henry West was apparently oblivious to all about him; his eyes were looking straight ahead and his lips were closed firmly, as if with an effort to restrain his thoughts. All his life he had thought of the day and dreamed of the time when his ideal might be by his side. On his lonely rides across the plains or hills in quest of cattle or looking after his horses, his heart and soul had been filled with thoughts of Her. Never had he found her among the girls of his own people. Never had he seen her in all his years at school and college, although many who were fair and sweet would gladly have accepted his attentions. Always a welcome guest at the homes of his acquaintances, entertained and feted until he had become surfeited with it all, his heart was still an empty void, and his soul still longed for her of whom he dreamed. Last night she came! The moment he heard her voice he knew it! The instant he saw her eyes, her face, her hair, her form, he felt like crying out in his exquisite pain of unbearable joy, “At last you have come; you for whom I have hoped, longed, sought, waited through all the ages of time! Oh, my love, my life! And yet I can not, dare not even presume to touch your hand! Oh, the irony of fate! You are so fair, so white—I, O God! I am but an Indian! They say we know how to hate! We know, too, how to love; but how much, how hopelessly, I never knew till now! And yet”—a swift thought came—“and yet—my mother! How I love her! What an honor to be my mother’s son!” Bess stole a shy glance at the set face of her companion and wondered what he could be pondering so deeply. He had not spoken for a long time, and she half feared to break the silence. Miles passed under the horses’ hoofs, and yet he was silent. Suddenly he looked at her with self-reproach. “Pardon me, Miss Fletcher, but you certainly must be getting tired.” He hastily leaped from his horse, throwing the reins over the beautiful creature’s head. Eagle shook himself as if glad to be relieved of his burden. West came to Bess’ side and assisted her to dismount. He had anticipated that her knees would not sustain her weight, and clasped her in his arms to keep her from falling. Immediately the horses, with reins trailing on the ground, began munching the soft green grass, slowly picking here and there.