In spite of her promise Beulah was away beyond the time limit.  Beaudry became a little uneasy.  It was not possible, of course, that Meldrum could have escaped from the pit.  And yet—­

He called to her.  “Is every little thing all right, neighbor?”

“All right,” she answered.

A moment later she emerged from the aspens and came toward the camp.  She was panting a little, as if she had been running.

“Quite a hill,” he commented.

She gave him a quick glance.  There was in it shy curiosity, but her dark eyes held, too, an emotion more profound.

“Yes,” she said.  “It makes one breathe fast.”

Miss Rutherford had improved her time.  The disorderly locks had been hairpinned into place.  From her face all traces of the dried tears were washed.  Pit clay no longer stained the riding-skirt.

Sandwiches and coffee made their meal, but neither of them had ever more enjoyed eating.  Beulah was still ravenously hungry, though she restrained her appetite decorously.

“I forgot to tell you that I am lost,” he explained.  “Unless you can guide me out of this labyrinth of hills, we’ll starve to death.”

“I can take you straight to the park.”

“But we’re not going to the park.  Everybody is out looking for you.  We are to follow Del Oro down to the flats.  The trouble is that I’ve lost Del Oro,” he grinned.

“It is just over the hill.”

After refreshments he brought up his pinto horse and helped her to the saddle.  She achieved the mount very respectably.  With a confidential little laugh she took him into the secret of her success.

“I’ve been practicing with dad.  He has to help me up every time I go riding.”

They crossed to Del Oro in the dusk and followed the trail by the creek in the moonlight.  In the starlight night her dusky beauty set his pulses throbbing.  The sweet look of her dark-lashed eyes stirred strange chaos in him.  They talked little, for she, too, felt a delicious emotion singing in the currents of her blood.  When their shy eyes met, it was with a queer little thrill as if they had kissed each other.

It was late when they reached the flats.  There was no sign of Charlton’s party.

“The flats run for miles each way.  We might wander all night and not find them,” Beulah mentioned.

“Then we’ll camp right here and look for them in the morning,” decided Roy promptly.

Together they built a camp-fire.  Roy returned from picketing the horse to find her sitting on a blanket in the dancing light of the flickering flames.  Her happy, flushed face was like the promise of a summer day at dawn.

In that immensity of space, with night’s million candles far above them and the great hills at their backs, the walls that were between them seemed to vanish.

Their talk was intimate and natural.  It had the note of comradeship, took for granted sympathy and understanding.