Above, the tree-clad ridge rose against the sky.

It was too far from the great world of cities, some would have said, but Helen did not find it so.
With her books and her music, and the great out-of-doors; and with the companionship of her mate and the dreams they dreamed together, her woman heart was never lonely.
She lowered the book she was reading, and looked through the open window to the clock in the living-room.

A little while, and she would go down the hill to Stanford, for they loved to walk home together.

Then, before lifting the printed page again, she looked over the wide view of rugged mountain sides and towering peaks that every day held for her some new beauty.

She had resumed her reading when the sound of horses' feet attracted her attention.
Patches and Yavapai Joe were riding up the hill.
They stopped at the gate, and while Joe held Stranger's bridle rein, Patches came to Helen as she stood on the porch waiting to receive him.
"Surely you will stay for the night," she urged when they had exchanged greetings, and had talked for a little while.
"No," he answered quietly.