"Why, Homer," exclaimed Curtis, stopping in astonishment at the door, "what are you doing?" Homer lifted a dismal face. "I'm packing up. I'm going away." "Why, lad, what's the matter? I thought--" Curtis stopped, hesitating and embarrassed. Homer energetically jammed some books into a corner of the trunk, and from its depths took up the unfinished sentence. "Yes; so did I. That is--I hoped. But it wasn't so. She--she says she's never going to leave her father--that he needs her--that she's always going to stay with him." "Yes," said Curtis, lamely; "I know she's very devoted to him." He stopped; Homer went on with his packing. "I--I suppose, lad," the elder brother stumbled on, in kindly tone, "it hurts now, but--you'll get over it after a while." There was silence again while Homer threw a litter of neckties, collars, and handkerchiefs into his trunk. "I'd like you to stay here all Summer with me," Conrad went on presently, "but if you think you'd be more comfortable somewhere else, it's all right. I understand." Homer looked up. "I'm going to Denver. I've got a classmate up there whose father I know will give me a job till college opens next Fall." Curtis walked out into the corral and leaned upon the gate. Would there be a chance for him, then? Likely not, for she had surely shown more favor to his brother than to him. But he would try. His heart rose at the possibility. Yes, he would try. He looked at his brown, sinewy hands and thought of Lucy's little white ones lying in them. "Thank God, they're free from blood!" he said to himself with solemn gladness. Then the crimson dyed his face. Even if Lucy cared for him, which he hardly dared to hope, would she marry a man who had so long guided his life by such purposes as he had cherished? "But I'll tell her," he thought with grim determination, "just how bloody-minded I've been. It will likely spoil my chance--if I have any--but she must first know just what I am. I'll tell her all about it, without giving a hint of who the man is that I've followed. And after that--well, I'll feel that I've been square about it, anyway." The sun was setting, and the whole sky was ablaze with its glory. The fleecy white clouds of two hours before, which had mounted higher and multiplied themselves many times, had become mountains of glowing color, masses of sea-shell tints, wide expanses of pink and pearly gray, hearts and beckoning hands of flame. Curtis gazed at the glowing kaleidoscope of the heavens, feeling its gorgeous beauty mingle with the thankfulness that filled his heart. It was good to be done with all those old ideas and feelings and to have come out of it without ruining anybody else's life. Through the crimson and purple lights and shadows that enveloped the plain he saw Gonzalez galloping up the road, a fine, graceful, centaur-like figure.