"May I, Ma'am?" said Saterlee. She laughed at his embarrassment. And half-thrust the two great braids into the keeping of his strong left hand. A moment later Saterlee could no longer keep his footing. "Now, Ma'am," he said, "just let yourself go." And he swam to shallow water, not without great labor, towing Mrs. Kimbal by the hair. But here he picked her up in his arms, this time with no word spoken, and carried her ashore. Some moments passed. "Well," she said, laughing, "aren't you going to put me down?" "Oh!" said he, terribly confused, "I forgot. I was just casting an eye around for that horse. She's gone." "Never mind--we'll walk." "It'll be heavy going, wet as you are," said he. "I'll soon be dry in this air," she said. Saterlee managed to pull his boots on over his wet socks, and Mrs. Kimbal, having given him his wet coat from her neck, stooped and wrung as much water as she could from her clothes. It was now nearly dark, but they found the road and went on. "What time is it?" she asked. "My watch was in my vest," said Saterlee. "How far to Carcasonne House?" "'Bout thirty miles." She did not speak again for some time. "Well," she said, a little hardness in her voice, "you'll hardly be in time to steer your boy away from my girl." "No," said he, "I won't. An' you'll hardly be in time to steer your girl away from my boy." "Oh," she said, "you misconceive me entirely, Mr. Saterlee. As far as I'm concerned, my only regret _now_ is that I shan't be in time to dance at the wedding." "Ma'am?" he said, and there was something husky in his voice. V About midnight they saw a light, and, forsaking what they believed in hopeful moments to be the road, they made for it across country. Across open spaces of sand, into gullies and out of gullies, through stinging patches of yucca and prickly pear, through breast-high chaparral, meshed, knotted, and matted, like a clumsy weaving together of very tough ropes, some with thorns, and all with sharp points and elbows. They had long since dispensed with all conversation except what bore on their situation. Earlier in the night the darkness and the stars had wormed a story of divorce out of Mrs. Kimbal, and Saterlee had found himself longing to have the man at hand and by the throat. And she had prattled of her many failures on the stage and, latterly, of her more successful ventures, and of a baby boy that she had had, and how that while she was off playing "on the road" her husband had come in drunk and had given the baby the wrong medicine. And it was about then that she had left off conversing. For in joy it is hard enough to find the way in the dark, while for those in sorrow it is not often that it can be found at all.