Part 46

"You must not talk like that," she gently admonished him. "You're not to blame."

"Yes, I am. I should never have ventured into this man's country."

"I'm glad you did," she answered, as if she were comforting a child. "For if you hadn't I should never have known you."

"That would have been no loss--to you," he bitterly responded.

She unsaddled one pack-animal and spread some blankets on the grass. "Lie down and rest while I boil some coffee," she commanded; and he obeyed, too tired to make pretension toward assisting.

Lying so, feeling the magic of the sun, hearing the music of the water, and watching the girl, he regained a serener mood, and when she came back with his food he thanked her for it with a glance before which her eyes fell. "I don't see why you are so kind to me, I really believe you like to do things for me." Her head drooped to hide her face, and he went on: "Why do you care for me? Tell me!"

"I don't know," she murmured. Then she added, with a flash of bravery: "But I do."

"What a mystery it all is! You turn from a splendid fellow like Landon to a 'skate' like me. Landon worships you--you know that--don't you?"

"I know--he--" she ended, vaguely distressed.

"Did he ask you to marry him?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you? He's just the mate for you. He's a man of high character and education." She made no answer to this, and he went on: "Dear girl, I'm not worth your care--truly I'm not. I resented your engagement to Belden, for he was a brute; but Landon is different. He thinks the world of you. He'll go high in the service. I've never done anything in the world--I never shall. It will be better for you if I go--to-morrow."

She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek, then, putting her arm about his neck, drew him to her bosom and kissed him passionately. "You break my heart when you talk like that," she protested, with tears. "You mustn't say such gloomy things--I won't let you give up. You shall come right home with me, and I will nurse you till you are well. It was all my fault. If we had only stayed in camp at the lake daddy would have joined us that night, and if I had not loitered on the mountain yesterday Cliff would not have overtaken us. It's all my fault."

"I will not have it go that way," he said. "I've brought you only care and unhappiness thus far. I'm an alien--my ways are not your ways."

"I can change," she answered. "I hate my ways, and I like yours."

As they argued she felt no shame, and he voiced no resentment. She knew his mood. She understood his doubt, his depression. She pleaded as a man might have done, ready to prove her love, eager to restore his self-respect, while he remained both bitter and sadly contemptuous.

A cow-hand riding up the trail greeted Berrie respectfully, but a cynical smile broke out on his lips as he passed on. Another witness--another gossip.

She did not care. She had no further concern of the valley's comment. Her life's happiness hung on the drooping eyelashes of this wounded boy, and to win him back to cheerful acceptance of life was her only concern.

"I've never had any motives," he confessed. "I've always done what pleased me at the moment--or because it was easier to do as others were doing. I went to college that way. Truth is, I never had any surplus vitality, and my father never demanded anything of me. I haven't any motives now. A few days ago I was interested in forestry. At this time it all seems futile. What's the use of my trying to live?"

Part of all this despairing cry arose from weariness, and part from a luxurious desire to be comforted, for it was sweet to feel her sympathy. He even took a morbid pleasure in the distress of her eyes and lips while her rich voice murmured in soothing protest.

She, on her part, was frightened for him, and as she thought of the long ride still before them she wrung her hands. "Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she moaned.

Instantly smitten into shame, into manlier mood, he said: "Don't worry about me, please don't. I can ride. I'm feeling better. You must not weaken. Please forgive my selfish complaints. I'm done! You'll never hear it again. Come, let us go on. I can ride."

"If we can reach Miller's ranch--"

"I can ride to your ranch," he declared, and rose with such new-found resolution that she stared at him in wonder.

He was able to smile. "I've had my little crying spell. I've relieved my heart of its load. I didn't mean to agonize you. It was only a slump." He put his hand to his head. "I must be a comical figure. Wonder what that cowboy thought of me?"

His sudden reversal to cheer was a little alarming to her, but at length she perceived that he had in truth mastered his depression, and bringing up the horses she saddled them, and helped him to mount. "If you get tired or feel worse, tell me, and we'll go into camp," she urged as they were about to start.

"You keep going till I give the sign," he replied; and his voice was so firm and clear that her own sunny smile came back. "I don't know what to make of you," she said. "I reckon you must be a poet."

XIII