Two Horns and Crane's Voice came rattling along soon after Curtis stopped for noon at their first camping-place, and in a few minutes lunch was ready. Conversation still lagged in spite of inspiriting coffee, and the women lay out on their rugs and blankets, resting their aching bones, while the men smoked and speculated on the outcome of the whole Indian question. The teams were put to the wagons as soon as their oats were eaten and the homeward drive begun, brisk and business-like, and for some mysterious reason Curtis recovered his usual cheerful tone. It was mid-afternoon when the agency was sighted, and the five-o'clock bell had just rung as they drove slowly and with no appearance of haste into the yard. Wilson came out to meet them. "How-de-do? You made a short trip." "How are things?" inquired Curtis. "Nothing doing--all quiet," replied the clerk, but Curtis detected something yet untold in the quiver of his clerk's eyelid. "Well, I'm glad we got in." Supper was eaten with little ceremony and very languid conversation, and the artists at once sought their rooms to rest. The Parkers were too tired to be nervous, and Curtis was absorbed with some private problem. As Lawson and Elsie walked across the square in the twilight he announced, meditatively: "I'm going to be more and more impatient--that is now certain." "Osborne, don't! Please don't take that tone; I don't like it." "Why not, dear?" he asked, tenderly. "Because--because--" She turned in a swift, overmastering impulse. "Because if you do, I must give you back your ring." She wrung it from her finger. "I think I must, anyhow." As she crowded the gem into his lax hand he said: "Why, what does this mean, Elsie Bee Bee?" His voice expressed pain and bewilderment. "I don't know _what_ it means yet, only I feel that it isn't right now to wear it. I told you when you put it on that it implied no promise on my part." "I know it, and it doesn't imply any now." "Yes, it does. Your whole attitude towards me implies an absolute engagement, and I can't rest under that. Take back your ring till I can receive it as other girls do--as a binding promise. You _must_ do this or I will hate you!" she added, with a sudden fury. "Why, certainly, dearest--only I don't see what has produced this change in you." "I have not changed--you have changed." He laughed at this. "The woman's last word! Well, I admit it. I have come to love you as a man loves the woman he wishes to make his wife. I'm going to care a great deal, Elsie Bee Bee, if you do not come to me some time." "Don't say that!" she cried, and there was an imploring accent in her voice. "Don't you see I must not wear your ring till I promise all you ask?" They walked on in silence to the door. As they stood there he said: "I feel as though I were about to say good-bye to you forever, and it makes my heart ache."