undisciplined simplicity of the child, which, when he had reached
manhood, had never been formalized by conventions. Something indefinite
had marked him until Louise had come, and now he was definite,
determined, alive with a new feeling which made his spirit sing--his
spirit and his lips; for, as he came from Nolan Doyle's ranch to the
Cross Trails, he kept humming to himself, between moments of silence in
which he visualized Louise in a hundred attitudes, as he had seen her.
There had come to him, without the asking even, that which Joel Mazarine,
had he been as rich as any man alive or dead, could not have bought.
That was why he hummed to himself in happiness.

Youth answering to youth had claimed its own; love springing from the
dawn, brave and bright-eyed, had waved its wand towards that good country
called Home. Never from the first had any thought come into the minds of
either of these two that was not linked with the idea of home. Nothing
of the jungle had been in their thoughts, though they had been tempted,
and love and the moment's despair had stung them to take revenge in each
other's arms; yet they had kept the narrow path. There was in their love
something primeval, that belonged to the beginning of the world.

Orlando had almost reached the Cross Trails before he saw Mazarine's
wagon standing in the way. At first he did not recognize the horses, and
he called to the driver sitting motionless to move aside. He thought it
to be some drunken ranchman.

Presently, however, coming nearer, he recognized the horses and the man.
Standing up, Orlando was about to call out again in peremptory tones,
when, suddenly, the spirit of death touched his senses, and his heart
stood still for an instant.