Pagina 237 de 439

They did not speak again until they had passed from between the

chill walls to the warm sunshine of the valley beyond. Among the

rocks above the trail, she glimpsed some early anemones

blossoming bravely.

She drew up with a little cry of pleasure. "They're the first I

have seen. I must have them."

Fraser swung from the saddle, but he was not quick enough. She

reached them before he did, and after they had gathered them she

insisted upon sitting down again.

He had his suspicions, and voiced them. "I believe you got me off

just to make me sit down."

She laughed with deep delight. "I didn't, but since we are here

we shall." And she ended debate by sitting down tailor-fashion,

and beginning to arrange her little bouquet.

A meadow lark, troubadour of spring, trilled joyously somewhere

in the pines above. The man looked up, then down at the vivid

creature busy with her flowers at his feet. There was kinship

between the two. She, too, was athrob with the joy note of

spring.