At the point to which we were trending, the first slope of the mountain was not distant more than half a mile. The path was clear, and we were soon there. I felt like uttering my thanks again, but such words seemed so futile that I remained silent. "Keep to the southwest," said Miss Hetherill. "Don't forget that. Watch the sun to-morrow, and remember always to travel to the southwest. If you do that you will reach the settlements before your food is exhausted." "Good-by, Miss Hetherill," I said. "Good-by," said she. She was standing before me, and she looked so fair in the moonlight that I stooped down suddenly and kissed her. I do not know why I did it, I had known her only a day or so, but I had no apologies to make then, and I will make none now. She stared at me a moment, her face quite red. Then, without speaking, she turned and walked swiftly toward Fort Defiance, while I slowly climbed the first slopes of the mountains. CHAPTER IV. AMONG THE PEAKS. Some yards up I came to a ledge, upon which I sat and took another look at Fort Defiance. I saw a light figure cross the drawbridge, and then up went the bridge itself. I resumed my journey, half walking, half climbing, and a half-hour later, when I looked back again, I was much astonished to see lights blazing at every window of Fort Defiance. I watched for some minutes, but I was too far away to see figures moving or anything else that would tell me the cause of the lights. Convinced that it was no time for idle curiosity about illuminations, I turned my face toward the southwest, determined to carry out my instructions. Yet I saw readily that my problem was not yet wholly solved. I had escaped from the fort, but I had not escaped from the mountains, which at that hour looked very dark, very bleak, and very lonely. I picked out a large clear star burning in the southwest just above the tip of the highest peak, and made it my guide. It was rough travelling, but the night was cold, and my limbs had been stiffening in confinement. The sharp air and the exercise were a tonic to me. The blood ran freely through my veins, and I felt strong and buoyant. I resolved to walk all night, a resolution born partly of necessity, for I could not lie down and sleep without finding every joint stiffened in the morning by cold. With my eyes fixed on my star, I tramped steadily to the southwest. It was not an especially dark night, but I kept as closely as I could to the valleys or rifts, and the up-lift of the peaks above me hid half the skies. I am not superstitious, and I think I possess at least average courage, but the silence and solemnity of the mountains awed me and made me lonely and afraid. I seemed to be alone in the universe, save for the misty peaks, which nodded to each other and never noticed me. It may be flattering to one's vanity to feel that he is the only man in the world, but it soon grows tiresome. I longed for company, a chum, somebody to talk to me.