and uselessly abasing myself to her and making a fool of myself
generally.  But Smith!  Great God!  Smith!  Well, it will help to
cure me."

Mrs. Cameron stood by in miserable silence.

"Oh, Dr. Martin," at length she groaned tearfully, "I am so
disappointed.  I was so hoping, and I was sure it was all right--
and--and--oh, what does it mean?  Dear Dr. Martin, I cannot tell
you how I feel."

"Oh, hang it, Mrs. Cameron, don't pity me.  I'll get over it.  A
little surgical operation in the region of the pericardium is all,
that is required."

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, vaguely
listening to him and busy with her own thoughts the while.

"Talking about, madam?  Talking about?  I am talking about that
organ, the central organ of the vascular system of animals, a
hollow muscular structure that propels the blood by alternate
contractions and dilatations, which in the mammalian embryo first
appears as two tubes lying under the head and immediately behind
the first visceral arches, but gradually moves back and becomes
lodged in the thorax."

"Oh, do stop!  What nonsense are you talking now?" exclaimed Mrs.
Cameron, waking up as from a dream.  "No, don't go.  You must not
go."

"I am going, and I am going to leave this country," said the
doctor.  "I am going East.  No, this is no sudden resolve.  I have
thought of it for some time, and now I will go."

"Well, you must wait at least till Allan returns.  You must say
good-by to him."  She followed the doctor anxiously back to his
seat beside the Inspector.  "Here," she cried, "hold baby a minute.
There are some things I must attend to.  I would give him to the
Inspector, but he would not know how to handle him."

"God forbid!" ejaculated the Inspector firmly.

"But I tell you I must get home," said the doctor in helpless
wrath.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Cameron.  "Look out!  You are not
holding him properly.  There now, you have made him cry."

"Pinched him!" muttered the Inspector.  "I call that most unfair.
Mean advantage to take of the young person."

The doctor glowered at the Inspector and set himself with ready
skill to remedy the wrong he had wrought in the young person's
disposition while the mother, busying herself ostentatiously with
her domestic duties, finally disappeared around the house, making
for the bluff.  As soon as she was out of earshot she raised her
voice in song.

"I must give the fools warning, I suppose," she said to herself.
In the pauses of her singing, "Oh, what does she mean?  I could
just shake her.  I am so disappointed.  Smith!  Smith!  Well, Smith
is all right, but--oh, I must talk to her.  And yet, I am so angry--
yes, I am disgusted.  I was so sure that everything was all right.
Ah, there she is at last, and--well--thank goodness he is gone.

"Oh-h-h-h-O, Moira!" she cried.  "Now, I must keep my temper," she
added to herself.  "But I am so cross about this.  Oh-h-h-h-O,
Moira!"

"Oh-h-h-h-O!" called Moira in reply.

"She looks positively happy.  Ugh!  Disgusting!  And so lovely
too."

"Did you want me, Mandy?  I am so sorry I forgot all about the
tea."

"So I should suppose," snapped Mandy crossly.  "I saw you were too
deeply engaged to think."

"You saw?" exclaimed the girl, a startled dismay in her face.

"Yes, and I would suggest that you select a less conspicuous stage
for your next scene.  Certainly I got quite a shock.  If it had
been Raven, Moira, I could have stood it."

"Raven!  Raven!  Oh, stop!  Not a word, Mandy."  Her voice was
hushed and there was a look of pain in her eyes.

"But Smith!" went on Mandy relentlessly.  "I was too disgusted."

"Well, what is wrong with Mr. Smith?" inquired Moira, her chin
rising.

"Oh, there is nothing wrong with Smith," replied her sister-in-law
crossly, "but--well--kissing him, you know."

"Kissing him?" echoed Moira faintly.  "Kissing him?  I did not--"

"It looked to me uncommonly like it at any rate," said Mandy.  "You
surely don't deny that you were kissing him?"

"I was not.  I mean, it was Smith--perhaps--yes, I think Smith
did--"

"Well, it was a silly thing to do."

"Silly!  If I want to kiss Mr. Smith, why is it anybody's business?"

"That's just it," said Mandy indignantly.  "Why should you want
to?"

"Well, that is my affair," said Moira in an angry tone, and with a
high head and lofty air she appeared in the doctor's presence.

But Dr. Martin was apparently oblivious of both her lofty air and
the angle of her chin.  He was struggling to suppress from
observation a tumult of mingled passions of jealousy, rage and
humiliation.  That this girl whom for four years he had loved with
the full strength of his intense nature should have given herself
to another was grief enough; but the fact that this other should
have been a man of Smith's caliber seemed to add insult to his
grief.  He felt that not only had she humiliated him but herself as
well.

"If she is the kind of girl that enjoys kissing Smith I don't want
her," he said to himself savagely, and then cursed himself that he
knew it was a lie.  For no matter how she should affront him or
humiliate herself he well knew he should take her gladly on his
bended knees from Smith's hands.  The cure somehow was not working,
but he would allow no one to suspect it.  His voice was even and
his manner cheerful as ever.  Only Mrs. Cameron, who held the key
to his heart, suspected the agony through which he was passing
during the tea-hour.  And it was to secure respite for him that the
tea was hurried and the doctor packed off to saddle Pepper and
round up the cows for the milking.

Pepper was by birth and breeding a cow-horse, and once set upon a
trail after a bunch of cows he could be trusted to round them up
with little or no aid from his rider.  Hence once astride Pepper
and Pepper with his nose pointed toward the ranging cows, the
doctor could allow his heart to roam at will.  And like a homing
pigeon, his heart, after some faint struggles in the grip of its
owner's will, made swift flight toward the far-away Highland glen
across the sea, the Cuagh Oir.

With deliberate purpose he set himself to live again the tender and
ineffaceable memories of that eventful visit to the glen when first
his eyes were filled with the vision of the girl with the sunny
hair and the sunny eyes who that day seemed to fill the very glen
and ever since that day his heart with glory.

With deliberate purpose, too, he set himself to recall the glen
itself, its lights and shadows, its purple hilltops, its emerald
loch far down at the bottom, the little clachan on the hillside and
up above it the old manor-house.  But ever and again his heart
would pause to catch anew some flitting glance of the brown eyes,
some turn of the golden head, some cadence of the soft Highland
voice, some fitful illusive sweetness of the smile upon the curving
lips, pause and return upon its tracks to feel anew that subtle
rapture of the first poignant thrill, lingering over each separate
memory as a drunkard lingers regretful over his last sweet drops of
wine.

Meantime Pepper's intelligent diligence had sent every cow home to
its milking, and so, making his way by a short cut that led along
the Big Horn River and round the poplar bluff, the doctor, suddenly
waking from his dream of the past, faced with a fresh and sharper
stab the reality of the present.  The suddenness and sharpness of
the pain made him pull his horse up short.

"I'll cut this country and go East," he said aloud, coming to a
conclusive decision upon a plan long considered, "I'll go in for
specializing.  I have done with all this nonsense."

He sat his horse looking eastward over the hills that rolled far
away to the horizon.  His eye wandered down the river gleaming now
like gold in the sunset glow.  He had learned to love this land of
great sunlit spaces and fresh blowing winds, but this evening its
very beauty appeared intolerable to him.  Ever since the death of
Raven upon that tragic night of the cattle-raid he had been
fighting his bitter loss and disappointment; with indifferent
success, it is true, but still not without the hope of attaining
final peace of soul.  This evening he knew that, while he lived in
this land, peace would never come to him, for his heart-wound never
would heal.

"I will go," he said again.  "I will say good-by to-night.  By
Jove!  I feel better already.  Come along, Pepper!  Wake up!"

Pepper woke up to some purpose and at a smart canter carried the
doctor on his way round the bluff toward a gate that opened into a
lane leading to the stables.  At the gate a figure started up
suddenly from the shadow of a poplar.  With a snort and in the
midst of his stride Pepper swung on his heels with such amazing
abruptness that his rider was flung from his saddle, fortunately
upon his feet.

"Confound you for a dumb-headed fool!  What are you up to anyway?"
he cried in a sudden rage, recognizing Smith, who stood beside the
trail in an abjectly apologetic attitude.

"Yes," cried another voice from the shadow.  "Is he not a fool?
You would think he ought to know Mr. Smith by this time.  But
Pepper is really very stupid."

The doctor stood speechless, surprise, disgust and rage struggling
for supremacy among his emotions.  He stood gazing stupidly from
one to the other, utterly at a loss for words.

"You see, Mr. Smith," began Moira somewhat lamely, "had something
to say to me and so we--and so we came--along to the gate."

"So I see," replied the doctor gruffly.

"You see Mr. Smith has come to mean a great deal to me--to us--"

"So I should imagine," replied the doctor.

"His self-sacrifice and courage during those terrible days we can
never forget."

"Exactly so--quite right," replied the doctor, standing stiffly
beside his horse's head.

"You do not know people all at once," continued Moira.

"Ah!  Not all at once," the doctor replied.

"But in times of danger and trouble one gets to know them quickly."

"Sure thing," said the doctor.

"And it takes times of danger to bring out the hero in a man."

"I should imagine so," replied the doctor with his eyes on Smith's
childlike and beaming face.

"And you see Mr. Smith was really our whole stay, and--and--we came
to rely upon him and we found him so steadfast."  In the face of
the doctor's stolid brevity Moira was finding conversation
difficult.

"Steadfast!" repeated the doctor.  "Exactly so," his eyes upon
Smith's wobbly legs.  "Mr. Smith I consider a very fortunate man.
I congratulate him on--"

"Oh, have you heard?  I did not know that--"

"Yes.  I mean--not exactly."

"Who told you?  Is it not splendid?" enthusiasm shining in her
eyes.

"Splendid!  Yes--that is, for him," replied the doctor without
emotion.  "I congratulate--"

"But how did you hear?"

"I did not exactly hear, but I had no difficulty in--ah--making the
discovery."

"Discovery?"

"Yes, discovery.  It was fairly plain; I might say it was the
feature of the view; in fact it stuck right out of the landscape--
hit you in the eye, so to speak."

"The landscape?  What can you mean?"

"Mean?  Simply that I am at a loss as to whether Mr. Smith is to be
congratulated more upon his exquisite taste or upon his extraordinary
good fortune."

"Good fortune, yes, is it not splendid?"

"Splendid is the exact word," said the doctor stiffly.

"And I am so glad."

"Yes, you certainly look happy," replied the doctor with a grim
attempt at a smile, and feeling as if more enthusiasm were demanded
from him.  "Let me offer you my congratulations and say good-by.  I
am leaving."

"You will be back soon, though?"

"Hardly.  I am leaving the West."

"Leaving the West?  Why?  What?  When?"

"To-night.  Now.  I must say good-by."

"To-night?  Now?"  Her voice sank almost to a whisper.  Her lips
were white and quivering.  "But do they know at the house?  Surely
this is sudden."

"Oh, no, not so sudden.  I have thought of it for some time;
indeed, I have made my plans."

"Oh--for some time?  You have made your plans?  But you never
hinted such a thing to--to any of us."

"Oh, well, I don't tell my plans to all the world," said the doctor
with a careless laugh.

The girl shrank from him as if he had cut her with his riding whip.
But, swiftly recovering herself, she cried with gay reproach:

"Why, Mr. Smith, we are losing all our friends at once.  It is
cruel of you and Dr. Martin to desert us at the same time.  Mr.
Smith, you know," she continued, turning to the doctor with an air
of exaggerated vivacity, "leaves for the East to-night too."

"Smith--leaving?"  The doctor gazed stupidly at that person.

"Yes, you know he has come into a big fortune and is going to be--"

"A fortune?"

"Yes, and he is going East to be married."

"Going EAST to be married?"

"Yes, and I was--"

"Going EAST?" exclaimed the doctor.  "I don't understand.  I
thought you--"

"Oh, yes, his young lady is awaiting him in the East.  And he is
going to spend his money in such a splendid way."

"Going EAST?" echoed the doctor, as if he could not fix the idea
with sufficient firmness in his brain to grasp it fully.

"Yes, I have just told you so," replied the girl.

"Married?" shouted the doctor, suddenly rushing at Smith and
gripping him by both arms.  "Smith, you shy dog--you lucky dog! Let
me wish you joy, old man.  By Jove!  You deserve your luck, every
bit of it.  Say, that's fine.  Ha! ha!  Jeerupiter!  Smith, you are
a good one and a sly one.  Shake again, old man.  Say, by Jove!
What a sell--I mean what a joke!  Look here, Smith, old chap, would
you mind taking Pepper home?  I am rather tired--riding, I mean--
beastly wild cows--no end of a run after them.  See you down at the
house later.  No, no, don't wait, don't mind me.  I am all right,
fit as a fiddle--no, not a bit tired--I mean I am tired riding.
Yes, rather stiff--about the knees, you know.  Oh, it's all right.
Up you get, old man--there you are!  So, Smith, you are going to be
married, eh?  Lucky dog!  Tell 'em I am--tell 'em we are coming.
My horse?  Oh, well, never mind my horse till I come myself.  So
long, old chap!  Ha! ha! old man, good-by.  Great Caesar!  What a
sell!  Say, let's sit down, Moira," he said, suddenly growing quiet
and turning to the girl, "till I get my wind.  Fine chap that
Smith.  Legs a bit wobbly, but don't care if he had a hundred of
'em and all wobbly.  He's all right.  Oh, my soul!  What an ass!
What an adjectival, hyphenated jackass!  Don't look at me that way
or I shall climb a tree and yell.  I'm not mad, I assure you.  I
was on the verge of it a few moments ago, but it is gone.  I am
sane, sane as an old maid.  Oh, my God!"  He covered his face with
his hands and sat utterly still for some moments.

"Dr. Martin, what is the matter?" exclaimed the girl.  "You terrify
me."

"No wonder.  I terrify myself.  How could I have stood it."

"What is the matter?  What is it?"

"Why, Moira, I thought you were going to marry that idiot."

"Idiot?" exclaimed the girl, drawing herself up.  "Idiot?  Mr.
Smith?  I am not going to marry him, Dr. Martin, but he is an
honorable fellow and a friend of mine, a dear friend of mine."

"So he is, so he is, a splendid fellow, the finest ever, but thank
God you are not going to marry him!"

"Why, what is wrong with--"

"Why?  Why?  God help me!  Why?  Only because, Moira, I love you."
He threw himself upon his knees beside her.  "Don't, don't for
God's sake get away!  Give me a chance to speak!"  He caught her
hand in both of his.  "I have just been through hell.  Don't send
me there again.  Let me tell you.  Ever since that minute when I
saw you in the glen I have loved you.  In my thoughts by day and in
my dreams by night you have been, and this day when I thought I had
lost you I knew that I loved you ten thousand times more than
ever."  He was kissing her hand passionately, while she sat with
head turned away.  "Tell me, Moira, if I may love you?  And is it
any use?  And do you think you could love me even a little bit?  I
am not worthy to touch you.  Tell me."  Still she sat silent.  He
waited a few moments, his face growing gray.  "Tell me," he said at
length in a broken, husky voice.  "I will try to bear it."

She turned her face toward him.  The sunny eyes were full of tears.

"And you were going away from me?" she breathed, leaning toward
him.

"Sweetheart!" he cried, putting his arms around her and drawing her
to him, "tell me to stay."

"Stay," she whispered, "or take me too."

The sun had long since disappeared behind the big purple mountains
and even the warm afterglow in the eastern sky had faded into a
pearly opalescent gray when the two reached the edge of the bluff
nearest the house.

"Oh!  The milking!" cried Moira aghast, as she came in sight of the
house.

"Great Caesar!  I was going to help," exclaimed the doctor.

"Too bad," said the girl penitently.  "But, of course, there's
Smith."

"Why, certainly there's Smith.  What a God-send that chap is.  He
is always on the spot.  But Cameron is home.  I see his horse.  Let
us go in and face the music."

They found an excited group standing in the kitchen, Mandy with a
letter in her hand.

"Oh, here you are at last!" she cried.  "Where have you--"  She
glanced at Moira's face and then at the doctor's and stopped
abruptly.

"Hello, what's up?" cried the doctor.

"We have got a letter--such a letter!" cried Mandy.  "Read it.
Read it aloud, Doctor."  She thrust the letter into his hand.  The
doctor cleared his throat, struck an attitude, and read aloud:


"My dear Cameron:

"It gives me great pleasure to say for the officers of the Police
Force in the South West district and for myself that we greatly
appreciate the distinguished services you rendered during the past
six months in your patrol of the Sun Dance Trail.  It was a work of
difficulty and danger and one of the highest importance to the
country.  I feel sure it will gratify you to know that the attention
of the Government has been specially called to the creditable manner
in which you have performed your duty, and I have no doubt that the
Government will suitably express its appreciation of your services
in due time.  But, as you are aware, in the Force to which we have
the honor to belong, we do not look for recognition, preferring to
find a sufficient reward in duty done.

"Permit me also to say that we recognize and appreciate the spirit
of devotion showed by Mrs. Cameron during these trying months in so
cheerfully and loyally giving you up to this service.

"May I add that in this rebellion to my mind the most critical
factor was the attitude of the great Blackfeet Confederacy.  Every
possible effort was made by the half-breeds and Northern Indians to
seduce Crowfoot and his people from their loyalty, and their most
able and unscrupulous agent in this attempt was the Sioux Indian
known among us as The Copperhead.  That he failed utterly in his
schemes and that Crowfoot remained loyal I believe is due to the
splendid work of the officers and members of our Force in the South
West district, but especially to your splendid services as the
Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail."


"And signed by the big Chief himself, the Commissioner," cried Dr.
Martin.  "What do you think of that, Baby?" he continued, catching
the baby from its mother's arms.  "What do you think of your
daddy?"  The doctor pirouetted round the room with the baby in his
arms, that young person regarding the whole performance apparently
with grave and profound satisfaction.

"Your horse is ready," said Smith, coming in at the door.

"Your horse?" cried Cameron.

"Oh--I forgot," said the doctor.  "Ah--I don't think I want him
to-night, Smith."

"You are not going to-night, then?" inquired Mandy in delighted
surprise.

"No--I--in fact, I believe I have changed my mind about that.  I
have, been--ah--persuaded to remain."

"Oh, I see," cried Mandy in supreme delight.  Then turning swiftly
upon her sister-in-law who stood beside the doctor, her face in a
radiant glow, she added, "Then what did you mean by--by--what we
saw this afternoon?"

A deeper red dyed the girl's cheeks.

"What are you talking about?" cried Dr. Martin.  "Oh, that kissing
Smith business."

"I couldn't just help it!" burst out Moira.  "He was so happy."

"Going to be married, you know," interjected the doctor.

"And so--so--"

"Just so," cried the doctor.  "Oh, pshaw! that's all right!  I'd
kiss Smith myself.  I feel like doing it this blessed minute.
Where is he?  Smith!  Where are you?"  But Smith had escaped.
"Smith's all right, I say, and so are we, eh, Moira?"  He slipped
his arm round the blushing girl.

"Oh, I am so glad," cried Mandy, beaming upon them.  "And you are
not going East after all?"

"East?  Not I!  The West for me.  I am going to stay right in it--
with the Inspector here--and with you, Mrs. Cameron--and with my
sweetheart--and yes, certainly with the Patrol of the Sun Dance
Trail."

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