"That would have been no loss--to you," he bitterly responded. She unsaddled one pack-animal and spread some blankets on the grass. "Lie down and rest while I boil some coffee," she commanded; and he obeyed, too tired to make pretension toward assisting. Lying so, feeling the magic of the sun, hearing the music of the water, and watching the girl, he regained a serener mood, and when she came back with his food he thanked her for it with a glance before which her eyes fell. "I don't see why you are so kind to me, I really believe you _like_ to do things for me." Her head drooped to hide her face, and he went on: "Why do you care for me? Tell me!" "I don't know," she murmured. Then she added, with a flash of bravery: "But I do." "What a mystery it all is! You turn from a splendid fellow like Landon to a 'skate' like me. Landon worships you--you know that--don't you?" "I know--he--" she ended, vaguely distressed. "Did he ask you to marry him?" "Yes." "Why didn't you? He's just the mate for you. He's a man of high character and education." She made no answer to this, and he went on: "Dear girl, I'm not worth your care--truly I'm not. I resented your engagement to Belden, for he was a brute; but Landon is different. He thinks the world of you. He'll go high in the service. I've never done anything in the world--I never shall. It will be better for you if I go--to-morrow." She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, then, putting her arm about his neck, drew him to her bosom and kissed him passionately. "You break my heart when you talk like that," she protested, with tears. "You mustn't say such gloomy things--I won't let you give up. You shall come right home with me, and I will nurse you till you are well. It was all my fault. If we had only stayed in camp at the lake daddy would have joined us that night, and if I had not loitered on the mountain yesterday Cliff would not have overtaken us. It's all my fault." "I will not have it go that way," he said. "I've brought you only care and unhappiness thus far. I'm an alien--my ways are not your ways." "I can change," she answered. "I hate my ways, and I like yours." As they argued she felt no shame, and he voiced no resentment. She knew his mood. She understood his doubt, his depression. She pleaded as a man might have done, ready to prove her love, eager to restore his self-respect, while he remained both bitter and sadly contemptuous. A cow-hand riding up the trail greeted Berrie respectfully, but a cynical smile broke out on his lips as he passed on. Another witness--another gossip. She did not care. She had no further concern of the valley's comment. Her life's happiness hung on the drooping eyelashes of this wounded boy, and to win him back to cheerful acceptance of life was her only concern.