The color came into the man’s face.  Somehow this girl put him in a very bad light.  He couldn’t shoot; and, if he couldn’t pray, what would she think of him?

“Why, I think I could manage to say it with help,” he answered uneasily.  “But what if that man should suddenly appear on the scene?”

“You don’t think the prayer is any good, or you wouldn’t say that.”  She said it sadly, hopelessly.

“O, why, certainly,” he said, “only I thought there might be some better time to try it; but, if you say so, we’ll stop right here.”  He sprang to the ground, and offered to assist her; but she was beside him before he could get around his horse’s head.

Down she dropped, and clasped her hands as a little child might have done, and closed her eyes.

“Our Father,” she repeated slowly, precisely, as if every word belonged to a charm and must be repeated just right or it would not work.  The man’s mumbling words halted after hers.  He was reflecting upon the curious tableau they would make to the chance passer-by on the desert if there were any passers-by.  It was strange, this aloneness.  There was a wideness here that made praying seem more natural than it would have been at home in the open country.

The prayer, by reason of the unaccustomed lips, went slowly; but, when it was finished, the girl sprang to her saddle again with a businesslike expression.

“I feel better,” she said with a winning smile.  “Don’t you?  Don’t you think He heard?”

“Who heard?”

“Why, ‘our Father.’”

“O, certainly!  That is, I’ve always been taught to suppose He did.  I haven’t much experimental knowledge in this line, but I dare say it’ll do some good some where.  Now do you suppose we could get some of that very sparkling water?  I feel exceedingly thirsty.”

They spurred their horses, and were soon beside the stream, refreshing themselves.

“Did you ride all night?” asked the girl.

“Pretty much,” answered the man.  “I stopped once to rest a few minutes; but a sound in the distance stirred me up again, and I was afraid to lose my chance of catching you, lest I should be hopelessly lost.  You see, I went out with a party hunting, and I sulked behind.  They went off up a steep climb, and I said I’d wander around below till they got back, or perhaps ride back to camp; but, when I tried to find the camp, it wasn’t where I had left it.”

“Well, you’ve got to lie down and sleep awhile,” said the girl decidedly.  “You can’t keep going like that.  It’ll kill you.  You lie down, and I’ll watch, and get dinner.  I’m going to cook that bird.”

He demurred, but in the end she had her way; for he was exceedingly weary, and she saw it.  So he let her spread the old coat down for him while he gathered some wood for a fire, and then he lay down and watched her simple preparations for the meal.  Before he knew it he was asleep.