It was not the time to be squeamish--even under the glance of the loveliest eyes. Taking the robe from my shoulders, I spread it over the back of my horse; and employing a piece of the laryette as a surcingle, I bound it fast. Into the improvised saddle I mounted--the girl, from a rock, leaping upon the croup behind me. "You, Wolf!" cried she, apostrophising the dog; "you stay here by the game, and guard it from the _coyotes_. Remember! rascal! not a mouthful till I return. Now, stranger!" she continued, shifting closer to me, and clasping me round the waist, "I am ready. Give your steed to the road; and spare him not, as you value the lives of your comrades. Up the ravine lies our way. Ho! onward!" The brave horse needed no spur. He seemed to understand that speed was required of him; and, stretching at once into a gallop, carried us gaily up the gorge. CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE. A QUEER CONVERSATION. Is other days, and under other circumstances, the touch of that round arm, softly encircling my waist, might have caused the current of my veins to flow fast and fevered. Not so then. My blood was thin and chill. My soul recoiled from amatory emotions, or indulged in them only as a remembrance. Even in that hour of trial and temptation, my heart was true to thee, Lilian! Had it been _thy_ arm thus wound around my waist--had those eyes that glanced over my shoulder been blue, and the tresses that swept it gold--I might for the moment have forgotten the peril of my companions, and indulged only in the ecstasy of a selfish love. But not with her--that strange being with whom chance had brought me into such close companionship. For her I had no love-yearnings. Even under the entwining of that beautiful arm, my sense was as cold, as if I had been in the embrace of a statue. My thoughts were not there.