last one, concerning Bess, seemed simply and naturally easy of
accomplishment. He would marry her. Suddenly, as from roots of

poisonous fire, flamed up the forgotten truth concerning her. It
seemed to wither and shrivel up all his joy on its hot, tearing

way to his heart. She had been Oldring's Masked Rider. To
Venters's question, "What were you to Oldring?" she had answered

with scarlet shame and drooping head.
"What do I care who she is or what she was!" he cried,

passionate" target="_blank" title="a.易动情的；易怒的">passionately. And he knew it was not his old self speaking. It
was this softer, gentler man who had awakened to new thoughts in

the quiet valley. Tenderness, masterful in him now, matched the
absence of joy and blunted the knife-edge of entering jealousy.

Strong and passionate" target="_blank" title="a.易动情的；易怒的">passionate effort of will, surprising to him, held
back the poison from piercing his soul.

"Wait!...Wait!" he cried, as if calling. His hand pressed his
breast, and he might have called to the pang there. "Wait! It's

all so strange--so wonderful. Anything can happen. Who am I to
judge her? I'll glory in my love for her. But I can't tell

it--can't give up to it."
Certainly he could not then decide her future. Marrying her was

impossible in Surprise Valley and in any village south of
Sterling. Even without the mask she had once worn she would

easily have been recognized as Oldring's Rider. No man who had
ever seen her would forget her, regardless of his ignorance as to

her sex. Then more poignant than all other argument was the fact
that he did not want to take her away from Surprise Valley. He

resisted all thought of that. He had brought her to the most
beautiful and wildest place of the uplands; he had saved her,

nursed her back to strength, watched her bloom as one of the
valley lilies; he knew her life there to be pure and sweet--she

belonged to him, and he loved her. Still these were not all the
reasons why he did not want to take her away. Where could they

go? He feared the rustlers--he feared the riders--he feared the
Mormons. And if he should ever succeed in getting Bess safely

away from these immediate perils, he feared the sharp eyes of
women and their tongues, the big outside world with its problems

of existence. He must wait to decide her future, which, after
all, was deciding his own. But between her future and his

something hung impending. Like Balancing Rock, which waited
darkly over the steep gorge, ready to close forever the outlet to

Deception Pass, that nameless thing, as certain yet intangible as
fate, must fall and close forever all doubts and fears of the

future.
"I've dreamed," muttered Venters, as he rose. "Well, why

not?...To dream is happiness! But let me just once see this
clearly wholly; then I can go on dreaming till the thing falls.

I've got to tell Jane Withersteen. I've dangerous trips to take.
I've work here to make comfort for this girl. She's mine. I'll

fight to keep her safe from that old life. I've already seen her
forget it. I love her. And if a beast ever rises in me I'll burn

my hand off before I lay it on her with shamefulintent. And, by
God! sooner or later I'll kill the man who hid her and kept her

in Deception Pass!"
As he spoke the west wind softly blew in his face. It seemed to

soothe his passion. That west wind was fresh, cool, fragrant, and
it carried a sweet, strange burden of far-off things--tidings of

life in other climes, of sunshine asleep on other walls--of other
places where reigned peace. It carried, too, sad truth of human

hearts and mystery--of promise and hope unquenchable. Surprise
Valley was only a little niche in the wide world whence blew that

burdened wind. Bess was only one of millions at the mercy of
unknown motive in nature and life. Content had come to Venters in

the valley; happiness had breathed in the slow, warm air; love as
bright as light had hovered over the walls and descended to him;

and now on the west wind came a whisper of the eternaltriumph of
faith over doubt.

"How much better I am for what has come to me!" he exclaimed.
"I'll let the future take care of itself. Whatever falls, I'll be

ready."
Venters retraced his steps along the terrace back to camp, and

found Bess in the old familiar seat, waiting and watching for his
return.

"I went off by myself to think a little," he explained.
"You never looked that way before. What--what is it? Won't you

tell me?"
"Well, Bess, the fact is I've been dreaming a lot. This valley

makes a fellow dream. So I forced myself to think. We can't live
this way much longer. Soon I'll simply have to go to Cottonwoods.

We need a whole pack train of supplies. I can get--"
"Can you go safely?" she interrupted.

"Why, I'm sure of it. I'll ride through the Pass at night. I
haven't any fear that Wrangle isn't where I left him. And once on

him--Bess, just wait till you see that horse!"
"Oh, I want to see him--to ride him. But--but, Bern, this is what

troubles me," she said. "Will--will you come back?"
"Give me four days. If I'm not back in four days you'll know I'm

dead. For that only shall keep me."
"Oh!"

"Bess, I'll come back. There's danger--I wouldn't lie to you--but
I can take care of myself."

"Bern, I'm sure--oh, I'm sure of it! All my life I've watched
hunted men. I can tell what's in them. And I believe you can ride

and shoot and see with any rider of the sage. It's not--not that
I--fear."

"Well, what is it, then?"
"Why--why--why should you come back at all?"

"I couldn't leave you here alone."
"You might change your mind when you get to the village--among

old friends--"
"I won't change my mind. As for old friends--" He uttered a

short, expressive laugh.
"Then--there--there must be a--a woman!" Dark red mantled the

clear tan of temple and cheek and neck. Her eyes were eyes of
shame, upheld a long moment by intense, straining search for the

verification of her fear. Suddenly they drooped, her head fell to
her knees, her hands flew to her hot cheeks.

"Bess--look here," said Venters, with a sharpness due to the
violence with which he checked his quick, surging emotion.

As if compelled against her will--answering to an irresistible
voice-- Bess raised her head, looked at him with sad, dark eyes,

and tried to whisper with tremulous lips.
"There's no woman," went on Venters, deliberatelyholding her

glance with his. "Nothing on earth, barring the chances of life,
can keep me away."

Her face flashed and flushed with the glow of a leaping joy; but
like the vanishing of a gleam it disappeared to leave her as he

had never beheld her.
"I am nothing--I am lost--I am nameless!"

"Do you want me to come back?" he asked, with sudden stern
coldness. "Maybe you want to go back to Oldring!"

That brought her erect, trembling and ashy pale, with dark, proud
eyes and mute lips refuting his insinuation.

"Bess, I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said that. But you
angered me. I intend to work--to make a home for you here--to be

a--a brother to you as long as ever you need me. And you must