"I'm going back now," she said, after a little pause. "I came for a walk to get a breath of fresh air. It isn't often I'm down in the gulch--it's not an inviting place. Are you leaving work now?" "Yes," Bob answered; "but I'll wait awhile till you've gone. You'd not like to be seen walking with me." He spoke quite simply, and scarcely understood why she pouted her pretty lips--putting it down as meaning that _that_ she certainly would not like to do. He stood looking at her, then suddenly she turned away. He watched her, hoping that perhaps she would turn her head; but she did not. She went slowly, though, and suddenly sat down on an earth-heap. He wondered why she was resting. He went to her. She was holding one foot as though it pained her, but her eyes laughed round at him and her cheeks were as red as a rose. "Is anything the matter?" he asked. "No," she answered, while her lips twitched amusedly; "at least, nothing much: I've sprained my ankle. I shall have to stop here till it is better." "Can't you walk?" he said, looking troubled. "No," she answered, shortly. He stood by her side, scarcely knowing what to do. He could have taken her up in his arms and carried her as easily as though she had been a baby. The very thought of holding her so made him tremble; but, then, she would never let him. "I wish Steve were here," he said. "Why?" sharply. "What could Steve do that you cannot?" "Steve could help you; you wouldn't mind him, he's clean." "Steve couldn't carry me." "No, that's true. Steve's but a weakly chap, but"--loyally--"he's clean!" "Go and fetch someone to help me." "And leave you here alone? Not I." He looked down upon her, at her lovely hair, at her laughing eyes; then he looked at her white dress. "Will it wash?" he asked, touching it. "Oh, yes." "Then let me carry you." Her eyes sought the ground, the smile round her lips grew merrier; she began pushing the loose stones about with her fingers. "May I?" he said, eagerly. She looked up with defiant eyes. "Well, I suppose I must get home," she answered. He waited for no more, but caught her up in his arms and held her closely clasped. For a moment he paused while he battled with, and conquered, an inclination to stoop and kiss her, then, turning his face from hers, he swung away towards the huts. She smiled to herself, and laid her head down upon his shoulder; she could feel the mad beating of his heart, and it made her own beat faster. "Bob," she said. "Yes," he answered, keeping his face steadily turned away. "Look at me," she said, authoritatively, "Why do you look away?" "Am I so ugly?" He turned slowly, looking down upon her face, at her lips, scarce an inch from his. "So beautiful," he said; "so beautiful. It is best that I do not look at you." "Am I heavy, Bob?" [Illustration: "AM I HEAVY?"] "Heavy? No!" "Put me down if I tire you." "Tire me!" "You've turned your face away again." "I must." "Why, Bob?"