Blood and desire would conquer every time; every mountaineer recognized
that!

And so things were seething under a surface of deadly calm, when
Truedale, believing that he had himself well in control, packed his
gunny sack and started forth for a long tramp. He had no particular
destination in mind--in fact, the soft, dreamy autumn day lulled him to
mental inertia--he simply went along, but he went as directly toward the
rhododendron slick as though he had long planned his actions. However,
it was late afternoon before he came upon Nella-Rose.

On the instant he realized that he had been searching for her all day.
His stern standards crumbled and became dry dust. One might as well
apply standards to flickering sunlight or to swirling trifles of
mountain mist as to Nella-Rose. She came upon him gaily; the dogs had
discovered her on one of their ventures and were now quietly
accompanying her.

"I--I've been looking for you--all day!" Truedale admitted, with truth
but indiscretion. And then he noted, as he had before, the strange
impression the girl gave of having been blown upon the scene. The
pretty, soft hair resting on the cheek in a bewildering curve; the
large, dreamy eyes and black lashes; the close clinging of her shabby
costume, as if wrapped about her slim body by the playful gale that had
wafted her along; all held part in the illusion.

"I had to--to lead Marg to Devil-may-come Hollow. She's hunting there
now!" Nella-Rose's white teeth showed in a mischievous smile. "We're
right safe with Marg down there, scurrying around. Come, I know a sunny
place--I want to tell you about Marg."