Where the Trail Divides

morning. Breakfast had long been over, but throughout the unplastered ranch house the suggestion of coffee and the tang of bacon still lingered. At home those

e made a hasty toilet, soliloquised an opinion of a dressing-room wi

ht before remained exactly as he had put it down. His cap and gloves were still beside it. Obviously there was no possibility of breakfast here, and he moved toward the adjoining room. On his way h

an old-fashioned castor, still remained. Moreover, from the third room, the kitchen, he could now hear sounds of life. The fire in a cook-stove was crackling cheerily. Above it, distinct through the thin partition, came the sound of a girlish voice singing. There was no apparent effort at time or at tune; it was uncultivated as the grass land all about; yet in its freshness and unconsciousness it was with

the previous night. Inevitably the preceding incident with his guide had produced a mental picture. It was with the expecta

ly interested. The owner thereof came forward, held out her hand. Two friendly brown eyes smiled up at him from the level of his shoulder. "I know without your introducing yourself that you're M

akably sought to be free, Clayton Craig retained that proffered hand. Against all the canons of good breeding he stared. Answe

yes fairly, with a return of his old confidence. "You had the

the slowly eaten meal finished, while Elizabeth Landor washed the dishes and put everything tidy and Craig from his seat on the bottom of an inverted basket reversed the position of entertainer, they laughed and chatted. And through it all, openly when possible, surreptitiously when it were wise, the man gave his companion inspection. And therein he at first but followed an instinct. Very, very human was Clayton Craig of Boston, Suffolk County, Massachusetts, and very, very good to look upon was brown-eyed, brown-skinned, brown-haired Elizabeth Landor. Neither had thought of evil, had other thought than the innocent pleasure of the moment that first morning while

n we ant

an unconscious blessing more potent than formula of clergy. She was looking out as she spoke, out over the level earth dazzling with its dancing heat waves, mysterious in its suggestion of unfathomable silence, of limitless distance. "It's

he was looking was very near; so near that he had leaned a trifle back the better to s

g away, you s

e an effort, the tiny ears were reddening. She was very hu

. "And to whom, please?

eathing could she prevent telling her secret, her happiness, this prairie gi

st night." To her at this time there was no need of antecedent. There was but o

d already passed; but still he did not speak. He was thinking of the night before, was the man, of that first look he had received-and of what had followed. His eyes were upon the girl, but it was of this he was thinking. Another minute passed. A big shaggy-haired collie, guardian of the dooryard, paused in his aimless wandering about the place to thrust a friendly muzzle into the stranger's hand; but even then he did not respond. For

all-Certainly you must be mistaken. I saw no one last night except Uncle Landor and an Indian cow-puncher with a comic opera

that came as easily as a prairie wind stirs the down of a milk-weed plant, Elizabet

he voiced. "How Landor is a

ch one recovers from hearing the unbelievable

respect. I never dreamed-Forgive me." He had drawn very near. "I w

girl's colour was normal again and

e he happened to be minus a collar and had a red

f you had been acquainted all your life as I have-" Against her will she w

the man was silent. Then abruptly,

away," he recalled. "Is i

" ten

t, please; I

not be in

ised, reproachfully.

ans

?" The voice was very low. I

told you," repressedly.

resumed the former position; the place from

solitary listener. "We'll have our ponies and ammunition and plenty to read. The cowboys laugh at How because ordinarily he never carries a gun; but he's a wonderful shot. We'll have game whenever we want it. We'll camp when we please and move on when we please." Again unconsciously she glanced at the listener to see the effect of her art. "We'll be together, Ho

its depths, "fine indeed. And if you want anything at any time you can g

e is the last ranch that way, to the west, until you get to the Hills. We probably won't see another h

then he shrugge

on me again, though," he added contritely. "I always do see the prosaic side of things." The smile vanished, and for the first time he looked away, absently, dreamily. As he looked his face altered, softened almost unbelievably. "It would be wonderful," he voiced slow

r had returned to the girl's

," said Craig. Warmer and warmer tinged the

"We always envy other people the things we haven

pleaded the gir

it's

sed land. Just this she was; and another, this man with her, her cousin by courtesy, was sad. Inevitably she

think it is," she halted;

made me." Craig laughed shortly,

d under a real shadow, it altered now under the cloud of another's unhappiness. But one suggestion presented itself

ove. Apparently h

on monotonously, "when

never do. No matter how well I become acquainted with women, we never vitally touch, never become necessa

ser to another in the darkness. One of her companion's hands lay listless on his k

love, my own happiness. I didn't mean to hurt you. I simply could

ot look at her. When he spoke again there was the

appy side; and I wish I were dead." A mist came into his eyes, a real mist. "The future looks so blank, so hopeless that it becomes a nightmare to me. Anything else would be pr

e, stood facing him. Tears that she could not prevent were in the brown eyes a

nce up. "What's the use of living, of doing anything,

Again she halted; the soft brown eyes glistening, the dainty oval chin trembling uncontrollably, her fingers locked tight. A moment she stood so, uncertain, helpless; then of a sudden the full horror of the possibility the other had suggested came over her, swept away the last barrier of reserve. Not the faintest sus

er between her own. It was not a suggestion she was combating now. It was a certainty. "Promise me you won't do this thing." She shook the

er realised before how useless. You didn't intend to do it, but you've ma

ted seconds; then, interrupting, something happened. There was not a cloud in the sky, nor the vestige of a cloud. The sun still shone bright as before; yet distinctly, undeniably, the man felt a gr

to someone it does really matter?" It was his turn to question, to wait breathlessly when no answer came. "Would you really care, you, if I were dead? Tell me, Bess, tell me, as though you were saying a prayer." One hand still retained its grip on her shoulder, but its mate loosened, instinctively sought that averted, trembl

eyes opening wider and wider, opening wonderingly, dazedly, as though the other had done what she feared-and of a sudden returned again to life; then in mocking, ironic reaction came tardy comprehension, and with the strength of a captured wild thing she drew back, broke free. A second longer she stood there, not her chin alone, b