The girl, still lying on her bed of leaves and auto-robes, with the mutilated shawl drawn over her, looked up at him with an expression of trust and gratitude.

For a second, only one, something quick and vital gripped at the wanderer's heart--some vague, intangible longing for a home and a woman, a longing old as our race, deep-planted in the inmost citadel of every man's soul.

But, half-impatiently, he drove the thought away, dismissed it, and, smiling down at her with cheerful eyes and white, even teeth, said reassuringly: "Everything's all right now.

The first machine that passes, will take you to civilization." "And you ?" she asked.

"What of you, then ?" "Me?
Oh, I'll hike," he answered.