against the sky. Nothing competitive here, Fanny thought,
and took a deep breath. She thought of to-morrow's work,
with day after to-morrow's biting and snapping at its heels.

Clarence seemed to sense her thoughts. "Doesn't this make
you feel you want to get away from those damned bins that
you're forever feeding? I watched those boys for a minute,
the other day, outside your office. Jove!"

Fanny dug a heel into the sand, savagely. "Some days I feel
that I've got to walk out of the office, and down the
street, without a hat, and on, and on, walking and walking,
and running now and then, till I come to the horizon.
That's how I feel, some days."

"Then some day, Fanny, that feeling will get too strong for
you, and you'll do it. Now listen to me. Tuck this away in
your subconscious mind, and leave it there until you need
it. When that time comes get on a train for Denver. From
Denver take another to Estes Park. That's the Rocky
Mountains, and they're your destination, because that's
where the horizon lives and has its being. When you get
there ask for Heyl's place. They'll just hand you from one
to the other, gently, until you get there. I may be there,
but more likely I shan't. The key's in the mail box, tied
to a string. You'll find a fire already laid, in the
fireplace, with fat pine knots that will blaze up at the
touch of a match. My books are there, along the walls. The
bedding's in the cedar chest, and the lamps are filled.
There's tinned stuff in the pantry. And the mountains are