interrupted the girl impatiently.

"We ARE going forward," said Low imperturbably; "but I wanted to tell
you, as we were speaking on THAT subject" (Nellie looked at her watch),
"I've been offered the place of botanist and naturalist in Professor
Grant's survey of Mount Shasta, and if I take it--why, when I come back,
darling--well--"

"But you're not going just yet," broke in Nellie, with a new expression
in her face.

"No."

"Then we need not talk of it now," she said, with animation.

Her sudden vivacity relieved him. "I see what's the matter," he said
gently, looking down at her feet; "these little shoes were not made to
keep step with a moccasin. We must try another way." He stooped as if
to secure the erring buskin, but suddenly lifted her like a child to his
shoulder. "There," he continued, placing her arm round his neck, "you
are clear of the ferns and brambles now, and we can go on. Are you
comfortable?" He looked up, read her answer in her burning eyes and
the warm lips pressed to his forehead at the roots of his straight dark
hair, and again moved onward as in a mesmeric dream. But he did not
swerve from his direct course, and with a final dash through the
undergrowth parted the leafy curtain before the spring.

At first the young girl was dazzled by the strong light that came from a
rent in the interwoven arches of the wood. The breach had been caused by
the huge bulk of one of the great giants that had half fallen, and was