He heard Constance in the other room, breathing heavily, and wondered whether she was sick. He watched the clock now as a man who waits for the death knell. Time seemed to go slowly, he thought. He would call his sister when the clock reached a quarter of. Yes, and together they would watch, watch, watch. He dozed off to sleep. Suddenly he awoke with a start. He had slept the old year out, was his first thought. Then he looked at the clock. No, not quite. He rubbed his eyes. And then he listened. Had he heard someone, or something? "Of course not," he muttered half aloud. "This game is telling on me," and he raised his hand and grasped his head. And still he felt something had happened. He arose and walked back and forth across the room, and then sat down again. As he did so, his eyes saw the clock. It was now eleven thirty-five. CHAPTER THIRTEEN _Into the Infinite Long Ago_ "That is the Ponca, dear," said Sidney, taking her hand, as they walked up the road. "But you did not call it that in your story, Sidney," said Mildred, squeezing his hand fondly. "I have never been on its banks. When are you going to take me there?" she now said poutingly. He placed his free hand under her chin, and dared her to look into his face with such a frown. She failed, and laughed instead. "But I want to go," she cried, swinging the hand she held back and forth. "Won't you take me soon--take me today?" she begged. He drew her to him, placed his arms about her, and kissed her fondly. A moment later they walked down the wide road. "And this is the _Rosebud Country_," she said, allowing her eyes to stretch over a land to which she saw no end. "Yes, this is the _Rosebud Country_," he said contentedly. She regarded him a moment closely, before she spoke. In that look, she appeared to see him as she had never seen him before. This man was her husband, and he had spent the prime years of his life in this land to the northwest. He loved it, and now she would love it, because he did. In the years gone by he had hoped--he had built his hopes here, and into that life had come another. After that things had been different. Yes, things had been different, and that was why she was here. But she was happy. Yes, she was happy. He was too, so that made her more happy. "See those rocks on yonder hill?" she heard him say, and she allowed her eyes to follow the direction of his finger. "Yes, and oh Sidney, I gaze each day at them, and at the smaller one just this side of it. Tell me of them, and of the little one, too." And as they strolled together down this prairie road to the valley of the Ponca, Sidney Wyeth, her husband, told her the story of the two hills.