“I’ve been with Genie. Desert man, her happiness frightens me. Oh, I love her! You tell me of your hard, lonely, terrible desert life. Why, your ears should ring with bells of joy forever. It is _you_ who have built her castle. What other deeds, like that, have you done--in those bitter years you tell of?” “Not many, Ruth--perhaps not one.” “I don’t believe you. I am learning you, desert man. And, oh, I wish you knew how it swells my heart to hear Genie tell of what you did for her. Every day she tells me something new.... Ah! and more--for to-day she said you would be leaving soon.” “Yes, Ruth--soon,” he said. “Back to the lonely land?” “Yes, back to the sage and sand and the big dark hills. Yes, it will be a lonely land,” he replied, sadly. “And you will wander down the trails until you meet some one--some woman or child or man--sick or miserable or lost--and then you will stop.” Adam had no answer. “The Indians called you Eagle,” she went on, and her tone startled him with its hint of remembered mockery. “You have the desert eye--you see so far.... But you don’t see _here_!... Why should you waste your splendid strength, your magnificent manhood, wandering over the desert _if_ it’s only for unhappy people? Desert man, you are great. But you could do more good here--you could find more misery here.... I know one whose heart is breaking. And you’ve never _seen_, for all your eagle eye!” “Listen, you morbid girl,” he returned, stung as with fire. “I am not great. I am lost. I go to the desert because it is home.... Don’t think of me! But look to yourself. Look into your heart. Fear it, Ruth Virey. You are a spoiled, dreamful, passionate child. But you have a mind and you have a will. You can conquer your unrest, your discontent. Revere the memory of your mother, but grieve no more. The past is dead. Learn to fight. You are no fighter. You are weak. You give in to loneliness, sadness, longing. Resolve to be a woman! You must live your life. Make it worth while. Every man, every woman, has a burden. Lift yours cheerfully and begin to climb.... Work for your grandfather. He needs your help. Love those with whom fate has placed you. And fight--fight the dark moods, the selfish thoughts, the hateful memories! Fight like a desert beast for your life. Work--work till you bruise those beautiful hands. Work with a hoe, if you can find nothing else. Love to see things grow green and flower and give fruit. Love the animals, the birds, and learn from them; love all nature, so that when you meet a man some day, _the_ man, you can love him. That is what it means to be a woman. You are a beautiful, sweet, useless, and petulant girl. But be so no more. Be a woman!” Pale and shocked, with brimming eyes and tremulous lips, she replied: “Stay--stay, desert man, and make me a woman!”