"Yes," he whispered, "to remember you."

He seemed to see regret, astonishment, questioning, gentle reproof, even a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. But her expression changed instantly.

"I think you have something to remember me by; something you asked me for once, long ago. I sent it to you. You have never spoken of it--acknowledged it. I can't quite forgive that."

"Your glove. I know. I got it here." And he touched his breast. "I thought you would understand."

"I do. But, Collie, a girl always likes to be told that she is understood, even when she knows it."

"I was going to write about getting your glove, at the hospital. I guess I was too tired."

"At the hospital?"

"Yes. Red sent it to me. Brand gave it to him to give to me--that time."

"Oh!" And Louise felt like retracting a little; but sweetly perverse, she obeyed sheer instinct. "Collie, do you realize that I have already asked you to dismount? Shall I have to ask you again? Do you realize that I am standing while you are sitting your horse?"

"I am begging your pardon, Louise."

The girl nodded brightly, smiling as she noticed the little scar on his chin--a wound that she had made him blush for when she had admonished him for fighting with d.i.c.k Tenlow.

She watched the rise and fall of the muscles of his arm, beneath his flannel shirt, as he lighted his cigarette. How broad-chested and strong and wholesome he seemed in the morning sunlight! There was an untamed grace about his movements, his gestures, which, together with his absolute unconsciousness of self, pleased and attracted her.

"Yuma is a little wild, but she is a fine saddle-pony. I'm really jealous for Boyar's prestige."

"I was afraid for you to ride her," said Collie.

"She behaves beautifully."

"Would you take her as a kind of present from me?" he asked.

"Give Yuma to me? I thought you loved her?"

"I do. That's why I want you to have her."

"He would give you away," said Louise, stroking Yuma's neck. "Give you away just as you're learning to trust him and perhaps even like him a little--and he says he loves you! Let's run away from him, Hummingbird!"

"I think I could stand it if you would just be mean once," said Collie.

"Stand what, Collie?"

He had been watching her shapely hand and supple, rounded wrist as she stroked the pony's neck. Swiftly she turned from the horse and faced him. "What, Collie?" There was laughter in her eyes, a laughter that challenged more than his serious mood. Her lips were smiling. Her chin was tilted provokingly.

His eyes grew wide with unspoken love, unuttered longing. He delighted in the delicious curve of her cheek, and of her arm resting on the saddle. Her poise had an inexplicable suggestion of royal courage, as though she were battling for more than her lips could utter. In her absence he had adored her. Now he forgot all that he had meant to tell her in the sensuous delight of her mere presence. But even that was not enough. He dropped the pony's reins and strode toward her. Louise paled even as he drew near, but he saw nothing but her eyes and her lips, lips that curved wistfully, provoking tenderness and love. For an instant Louise held her heart aloof.

"Let me just worship you--a little while--a little while," he whispered.

"Only a little while?" she breathed; and the soft rose glowed in her cheeks.

"Just forever," he said.

And Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than the morning, Louise, his most gracious senorita, his Madonna of the Rose, lifted her arms to him. Her lips quivered like a child's, tremulous with longing to tell him silently, as his lips found hers, all that her heart was giving and all the wealth of love it yet should give.

Gently his hands clasped her golden head. His whole being thrilled as he touched her hair, her cheeks, her lips. "Oh, Collie! Collie! Love me always," she whispered. And she drew him down to her breast and caressed his cheek, sighing and murmuring little endearments and sweet, broken words of love.

Moonstone Canon, coldly beautiful, echoed the hoof-beats of the ponies as they walked homeward.

Louise turned in the saddle. "Collie," she said with an indescribable gesture of appeal, "you will always take care of me, won't you?"

"My Rose Girl! Why do you say that?"

"I was thinking of my father."

Louise saw his lips stiffen and his chin lift. "Louise, I had no right, just now,--I haven't any right--I'm poor. The claim wasn't ours."

"I didn't mean that," she said, smiling wistfully. "But you will always care for me, won't you? I don't care one bit about the claim. It has made trouble and sorrow enough. I can't remember my father. I can hardly think of him as my father. But it is horrible to think of his dying for water because he cared so much for gold."

"But how did you know?"

"I know," she answered gravely. "And I know that you are a very, very foolish boy, not to trust your friends more than you do. Did you suppose you would be happier or better in leaving Moonstone Rancho? Did you suppose I would be happier? Collie, you have so much to learn."

"I guess that's so," he sighed. Then his eyes brightened with his old-time mischief. "Couldn't you begin now to teach me a little--like back there in the canon?"

And being of a decisive habit of mind, he rode close to Louise and claimed immediate and delicious instruction.

"But how _did_ you know?" he asked again--"about the claim and your father and me?"

"A secret that I share with Overland," she replied.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?]

"So he told you! When? Not last night. He was asleep when I came away this morning."

"So he is here, then?"

"Louise, you're joking. Didn't Red talk to you?"

"No."

"And you know all about it already?" He looked at her curiously for a moment. "Did you know that I said I was going to leave the Moonstone?"

"Why?"

"For the same reason that I can't now--you. Red and Billy Winthrop and I don't own a cent's worth of the claim now. I don't even own what's in the bank. All I got is Yuma."

"You gave Yuma to me, Collie."