fluttering about her conceitedly in its new golden corselet.

Meanwhile the guide marched on stolidly with Ruth's reins thrown loosely
over the crook of his elbow. In his summer courses up and down the
mountain, the man, with his four languages, had probably assisted dumbly
at much fugitive love-making and many a conjugal passage-at-arms. He
took slight note of the conversation between the two young folks; he was
clearly more interested in a strip of black cloud that had come within
the half hour and hung itself over the Aiguille du Dru.

The foot-path and the bridle-road from Chamouni unite at the Caillet, a
spring of fresh water halfway up the mountain. There the riders
dismounted and rested five or six minutes at a rude hut perched like a
brown bird under the cliff.

"I've the fancy to go on foot the rest of the distance," Lynde remarked,
as he assisted Ruth into the saddle again.

"Then I'll let you lead the mule, if you will," said Ruth. "I'm not the
least afraid."

"That is an excellent idea! Why did you not think of it sooner? I shall
expect a buonamano, like a real guide, you know."

"I will give it you in advance," she said gayly, reaching forward and
pretending to hold a coin between her thumb and finger.

Lynde caught her hand and retained it an instant, but did not dare to
press it. He was in mortal fear of a thing which he could have crushed
like a flower in his palm.