She lowered the book she was reading, and looked through the open window to the clock in the living-room.  A little while, and she would go down the hill to Stanford, for they loved to walk home together.  Then, before lifting the printed page again, she looked over the wide view of rugged mountain sides and towering peaks that every day held for her some new beauty.  She had resumed her reading when the sound of horses’ feet attracted her attention.

Patches and Yavapai Joe were riding up the hill.

They stopped at the gate, and while Joe held Stranger’s bridle rein, Patches came to Helen as she stood on the porch waiting to receive him.

“Surely you will stay for the night,” she urged when they had exchanged greetings, and had talked for a little while.

“No,” he answered quietly.  “I just came this way to say good-by; I stopped for a few minutes with Stan at the office.  He said I would find you here.”

“But where are you going?” she asked.

Smiling he waved his hand toward the mountain ridge above.  “Just over the sky line, Helen.”

“But, Larry, you will come again?  You won’t let us lose you altogether?”

“Perhaps—­some day,” he said.

“And who is that with you?”

“Just a friend who cares to go with me.  Stan will tell you.”

“Oh, Larry, Larry!  What a man you are!” she cried proudly, as he stood before her holding out his hand.

“If you think so, Helen, I am glad,” he answered, and turned away.

So she watched him go.  Sitting there at home, she watched him ride up the winding road.  Now he was in full view on some rocky shoulder of the mountain—­now some turn carried him behind a rocky point—­again she glimpsed him through the trees—­again he was lost to her in the shadows.  At last, for a moment, he stood out boldly against the wide-arched sky—­and then he had passed from sight—­over the sky line, as he had said.

THE END