He came upon Nevada suddenly. She was standing on the site of the old camp where he had stayed with Johnny Buffalo. Her back was toward him, and she was holding something in her two hands; something he had seen her extract from the thorny branches of a stunted mesquite bush. When his footsteps sounded close, she turned and looked at him dumbly, her eyes wide and dark. The thing she held in her hands was his pipe,--one that he had lost on that first trip into the country. Before his better judgment or his doubts could stop him, Rawley drew her into his arms and held her close while he kissed her. It was so good to see her again, to feel her nearness. But after one rapturous minute, she put away his arms and faced him calmly, though her breath was not quite even and her eyes would not meet his with the old frankness. “Your one eighth of Indian blood should have given you more reserve, Cousin Rawley,” she reproved him mockingly. “The Spanish of us must be watched. Well, I needn’t ask about your health; you haven’t been pining during your absence, that one could notice.” Rawley barely escaped forswearing both his Indian and his Spanish blood, but remembered his promise just in time. He did not believe that Nevada regretted his impulsiveness,--for you simply can’t fool a man under thirty when he kisses a girl. Nevada’s lips, he joyously remembered, had not been unresponsive. “Here’s your pipe,” she said lamely, when he only stood and looked at her. “I was just wondering whether it’s worth saving, or whether I’d better heave it into the river and see how far it would float.” Rawley did not believe that she intended to heave it anywhere, but he passed the point. “If cousins fell in love, they--would you consider the relationship any bar--” Nevada went white around the mouth. “I certainly should! You ought to be ashamed to ask a question like that. No man with any decency could think of such a thing.” “I’m decent,” Rawley contended, “and I thought of it.” But he did not pursue the subject further. Nevada had turned and was walking on toward the camp of Cramer, and Rawley could do nothing but follow. The path was too narrow to permit him to walk beside her, and a man feels a fool making love to a woman’s back. “Have you done anything further about the dam?” he asked, after a silence. “I believe the work is going ahead,” Nevada replied, keeping straight on. “You must have received my letter about it; or didn’t you?” “Yes, I received a letter about something of the sort.” “You didn’t answer it, did you? I never received any reply.”