mane of the girl's horse; but he did not touch her hand. The lady of his
thoughts had sometimes let him hold her jewelled hand, and smiled with
drooping lashes when he fondled it; and, when she had tired of him, other
admirers might claim the same privilege. But this woman of the
wilderness--he would not even in his thoughts presume to touch her little
brown, firm hand. Somehow she had commanded his honor and respect from the
first minute, even before she shot the bird.

Once a bob-cat shot across their path but a few feet in front of them, and
later a kit-fox ran growling up with ruffled fur; but the girl's quick
shot soon put it to flight, and they passed on through the dawning morning
of the first real Sabbath day the girl had ever known.

"It is Sunday morning at home," said the man gravely as he watched the sun
lift its rosy head from the mist of mountain and valley outspread before
them. "Do you have such an institution out here?"

The girl grew white about the lips. "Awful things happen on Sunday," she
said with a shudder.

He felt a great pity rising in his heart for her, and strove to turn her
thoughts in other directions. Evidently there was a recent sorrow
connected with the Sabbath.

"You are tired," said he, "and the horses are tired. See! We ought to stop
and rest. The daylight has come, and nothing can hurt us. Here is a good
place, and sheltered. We can fasten the horses behind these bushes, and no
one will guess we are here."

She assented, and they dismounted. The man cut an opening into a clump of