In the belt of timber, where the trail to the ranch branches off, they met the shepherd on his way to the house for an evening visit.  The old man paused only long enough to greet them, and pushed on up the hill, for he saw by their faces that the time was come.

Sammy had grown very quiet when they rounded the shoulder of Dewey, and they went in silence down to the cabin on the southern slope of the mountain.  The girl asked Young Matt to wait for her at the gate, and, going to the house, she entered alone.

A short time she remained in the familiar rooms, then, slipping out through the rear door, ran through the woods to the little glen back of the house.  Dropping beside the mound she buried her face in the cool grass, as she whispered, “Oh, Daddy, Daddy Jim!  I wish you were here to-night; this night that means so much to me.  Do you know how happy I am, Daddy?  Do you know, I wonder?” The twilight deepened, “I must go now, Daddy; I must go to him.  You told me you would trust me anywhere with him.  He is waiting for me, now; but I wish—­oh, I wish that you were here to-night, Daddy Jim!”

Quickly she made her way back to the cabin, passed through the house, and rejoined Young Matt.  The two returned silently up the mountain side, to the higher levels, where the light still lingered, though the sun was down.  At the Lookout they stopped.

“We’ll wait for the moon, here,” she said; and so seated on a big rock, they watched the last of the evening go out from the west.  From forest depth and mountain side came the myriad voices of Nature’s chorus, blending softly in the evening hymn; and, rising clear above the low breathed tones, yet in perfect harmony, came a whip-poor-will’s plaintive call floating up from the darkness below; the sweet cooing of a wood-dove in a tree on the ridge, and the chirping of a cricket in a nearby crevice of the ledge.  Like shadowy spirits, the bats flitted here and there in the gathering gloom.  The two on the mountain’s shoulder felt themselves alone above it all; above it all, yet still a part of all.

Then the moon looked over the mountain behind them turning Mutton Hollow into a wondrous sea of misty light out of which the higher hills lifted their heads like fairy islands.  The girl spoke, “Come, Matt; we must go now.  Help me down.”

He slipped from his seat and stood beside the rock with uplifted arms.  Sammy leaned forward and placed her hands upon his shoulders.  He felt her breath upon his forehead.  The next instant he held her close.

So they went home along the trail that is nobody knows how old, and the narrow path that was made by those who walked one before the other, they found wide enough for two.

Dad Howitt, returning to the ranch, saw them coming so in the moonlight, and slipped aside from the path into the deeper shadows.  As they passed, the old shepherd, scholar and poet stood with bowed, uncovered head.  When they were gone and their low voices were no longer heard, he said aloud, “What God hath joined; what God hath joined.”