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mute　in　his　tracks。　　He　watched　her　disappear；　and　when　the　brown…and
…green　wall　of　forest　swallowed　the　slender　gray　form　he　fought　against
the　insistent　desire　to　follow　her；　and　fought　in　vain。



CHAPTER　II

But　Ellen　Jorth's　moccasined　feet　did　not　leave　a　distinguishable
trail　on　the　springy　pine　needle　covering　of　the　ground；　and　Jean
could　not　find　any　trace　of　her。

A　little　futile　searching　to　and　fro　cooled　his　impulse　and　called
pride　to　his　rescue。　　Returning　to　his　horse；　he　mounted；　rode　out
behind　the　pack　mule　to　start　it　along；　and　soon　felt　the　relief　of
decision　and　action。　　Clumps　of　small　pines　grew　thickly　in　spots
on　the　Rim；　making　it　necessary　for　him　to　skirt　them；　at　which
times　he　lost　sight　of　the　purple　basin。　　Every　time　he　came　back
to　an　opening　through　which　he　could　see　the　wild　ruggedness　and
colors　and　distances；　his　appreciation　of　their　nature　grew　on　him。
Arizona　from　Yuma　to　the　Little　Colorado　had　been　to　him　an　endless
waste　of　wind…scoured；　sun…blasted　barrenness。　　This　black…forested
rock…rimmed　land　of　untrodden　ways　was　a　world　that　in　itself　would
satisfy　him。　　Some　instinct　in　Jean　called　for　a　lonely；　wild　land；
into　the　fastnesses　of　which　he　could　roam　at　will　and　be　the　other
strange　self　that　he　had　always　yearned　to　be　but　had　never　been。

Every　few　moments　there　intruded　into　his　flowing　consciousness
the　flashing　face　of　Ellen　Jorth；　the　way　she　had　looked　at　him；
the　things　she　had　said。　　〃Reckon　I　was　a　fool；〃　he　soliloquized；
with　an　acute　sense　of　humiliation。　　〃She　never　saw　how　much　in
earnest　I　was。〃　　And　Jean　began　to　remember　the　circumstances　with
a　vividness　that　disturbed　and　perplexed　him。

The　accident　of　running　across　such　a　girl　in　that　lonely　place　might
be　out　of　the　ordinarybut　it　had　happened。　　Surprise　had　made　him　dull。
The　charm　of　her　appearance；　the　appeal　of　her　manner；　must　have　drawn
him　at　the　very　first；　but　he　had　not　recognized　that。　　Only　at　her
words；　〃Oh；　I've　been　kissed　before；〃　had　his　feelings　been　checked
in　their　heedless　progress。　　And　the　utterance　of　them　had　made　a
difference　he　now　sought　to　analyze。　　Some　personality　in　him；　some
voice；　some　idea　had　begun　to　defend　her　even　before　he　was　conscious
that　he　had　arraigned　her　before　the　bar　of　his　judgment。　　Such　defense
seemed　clamoring　in　him　now　and　he　forced　himself　to　listen。　　He　wanted；
in　his　hurt　pride；　to　justify　his　amazing　surrender　to　a　sweet　and
sentimental　impulse。

He　realized　now　that　at　first　glance　he　should　have　recognized　in　her
look；　her　poise；　her　voice　the　quality　he　called　thoroughbred。　　Ragged
and　stained　apparel　did　not　prove　her　of　a　common　sort。　　Jean　had　known
a　number　of　fine　and　wholesome　girls　of　good　family；　and　he　remembered
his　sister。　　This　Ellen　Jorth　was　that　kind　of　a　girl　irrespective　of
her　present　environment。　　Jean　championed　her　loyally；　even　after　he
had　gratified　his　selfish　pride。

It　was　thencontending　with　an　intangible　and　stealing　glamour；
unreal　and　fanciful；　like　the　dream　of　a　forbidden　enchantmentthat
Jean　arrived　at　the　part　in　the　little　woodland　drama　where　he　had
kissed　Ellen　Jorth　and　had　been　unrebuked。　　Why　had　she　not　resented
his　action？　　Dispelled　was　the　illusion　he　had　been　dreamily　and　nobly
constructing。　　〃Oh；　I've　been　kissed　before！〃　　The　shock　to　him　now
exceeded　his　first　dismay。　　Half　bitterly　she　had　spoken；　and　wholly
scornful　of　herself；　or　of　him；　or　of　all　men。　　For　she　had　said　all
men　were　alike。　　Jean　chafed　under　the　smart　of　that；　a　taunt　every
decent　man　hated。　　Naturally　every　happy　and　healthy　young　man　would
want　to　kiss　such　red；　sweet　lips。　　But　if　those　lips　had　been　for
othersnever　for　him！　　Jean　reflected　that　not　since　childish　games
had　he　kissed　a　girluntil　this　brown…faced　Ellen　Jorth　came　his　way。
He　wondered　at　it。　　Moreover；　he　wondered　at　the　significance　he　placed
upon　it。　　After　all；　was　it　not　merely　an　accident？　　Why　should　he
remember？　　Why　should　he　ponder？　　What　was　the　faint；　deep；　growing
thrill　that　accompanied　some　of　his　thoughts？

Riding　along　with　busy　mind；　Jean　almost　crossed　a　well…beaten　trail；
leading　through　a　pine　thicket　and　down　over　the　Rim。　　Jean's　pack
mule　led　the　way　without　being　driven。　　And　when　Jean　reached　the
edge　of　the　bluff　one　look　down　was　enough　to　fetch　him　off　his　horse。
That　trail　was　steep；　narrow；　clogged　with　stones；　and　as　full　of
sharp　corners　as　a　crosscut　saw。　　Once　on　the　descent　with　a　packed
mule　and　a　spirited　horse；　Jean　had　no　time　for　mind　wanderings　and
very　little　for　occasional　glimpses　out　over　the　cedar　tops　to　the
vast　blue　hollow　asleep　under　a　westering　sun。

The　stones　rattled；　the　dust　rose；　the　cedar　twigs　snapped；　the　little
avalanches　of　red　earth　slid　down；　the　iron…shod　hoofs　rang　on　the　rocks。
This　slope　had　been　narrow　at　the　apex　in　the　Rim　where　the　trail　led
down　a　crack；　and　it　widened　in　fan　shape　as　Jean　descended。　　He
zigzagged　down　a　thousand　feet　before　the　slope　benched　into　dividing
ridges。　　Here　the　cedars　and　junipers　failed　and　pines　once　more　hid
the　sun。　　Deep　ravines　were　black　with　brush。　　From　somewhere　rose　a
roar　of　running　water；　most　pleasant　to　Jean's　ears。　　Fresh　deer　and
bear　tracks　covered　old　ones　made　in　the　trail。

Those　timbered　ridges　were　but　billows　of　that　tremendous　slope　that
now　sheered　above　Jean；　ending　in　a　magnificent　yellow　wall　of　rock；
greened　in　niches；　stained　by　weather　rust；　carved　and　cracked　and
caverned。　　As　Jean　descended　farther　the　hum　of　bees　made　melody；
the　roar　of　rapid　water　and　the　murmur　of　a　rising　breeze　filled
him　with　the　content　of　the　wild。　　Sheepmen　like　Colter　and　wild
girls　like　Ellen　Jorth　and　all　that　seemed　promising　or　menacing
in　his　father's　letter　could　never　change　the　Indian　in　Jean。　　So
he　thought。　　Hard　upon　that　conclusion　rushed　anotherone　which
troubled　with　its　stinging　revelation。　　Surely　these　influences
he　had　defied　were　just　the　ones　to　bring　out　in　him　the　Indian
he　had　sensed　but　had　never　known。　　The　eventful　day　had　brought
new　and　bitter　food　for　Jean　to　reflect　upon。

The　trail　landed　him　in　the　bowlder…strewn　bed　of　a　wide　canyon；
where　the　huge　trees　stretched　a　canopy　of　foliage　which　denied　the
sunlight；　and　where　a　beautiful　brook　rushed　and　foamed。　　Here　at　last
Jean　tasted　water　that　rivaled　his　Oregon　springs。　　〃Ah；〃　he　cried；
〃that　sure　is　good！〃　　Dark　and　shaded　and　ferny　and　mossy　was　this
streamway；　and　everywhere　were　tracks　of　game；　from　the　giant　spread
of　a　grizzly　bear　to　the　tiny；　birdlike　imprints　of　a　squirrel。　　Jean
heard　familiar　sounds　of　deer　crackling　the　dead　twigs；　and　the　chatter
of　squirrels　was　incessant。　　This　fragrant；　cool　retreat　under　the　Rim
brought　back　to　him　the　dim　recesses　of　Oregon　forests。　　After　all；
Jean　felt　that　he　would　not　miss　anything　that　he　had　loved　in　the
Cascades。　　But　what　was　the　vague　sense　of　all　not　being　well　with
himthe　essence　of　a　faint　regretthe　insistence　of　a　hovering
shadow？　　And　then　flashed　again；　etched　more　vividly　by　the　repetition
in　memory；　a　picture　of　eyes；　of　lipsof　something　he　had　to　forget。

Wild　and　broken　as　this　rolling　Basin　floor　had　appeared　from　the　Rim；
the　reality　of　traveling　over　it　made　that　first　impression　a　deceit
of　distance。　　Down　here　all　was　on　a　big；　rough；　broken　scale。　　Jean
did　not　find　even　a　few　rods　of　level　ground。　　Bowlders　as　huge　as
houses　obstructed　the　stream　bed；　spruce　trees　eight　feet　thick　tried
to　lord　it　over　the　brawny　pines；　the　ravine　was　a　veritable　canyon
from　which　occasional　glimpses　through　the　foliage　showed　the　Rim
as　a　lofty　red…tipped　mountain　peak。

Jean's　pack　mule　became　frightened　at　scent　of　a　bear　or　lion　and　ran
off　down　the　rough　trail；　imperiling　Jean's　outfit。　　It　was　not　an
easy　task　to　head　him　off　nor；　when　that　was　accomplished；　to　keep
him　to　a　trot。　　But　his　fright　and　succeeding　skittishness　at　least
made　for　fast　traveling。　　Jean　calculated　that　he　covered　ten　miles
under　the　Rim　before　the　character　of　ground　and　forest　began　to　change。

The　trail　had　turned　southeast。　　Instead　of　gorge　after　gorge；
red…walled　and　choked　with　forest；　there　began　to　be　rolling　ridges；
some　high；　others　were　knolls；　and　a　thick　cedar　growth　made　up　for
a　falling　off　of　pine。　　The　spruce　had　long　disappeared。　　Juniper
thickets　gave　way　more　and　more　to　the　beautiful　manzanita；　and　soon
on　the　south　slopes　appeared　cactus　and　a　scrubby　live　oak。　　But　for
the　well…broken　trail；　Jean　would　have　fared　ill　through　this　tough
brush。

Jean　espied　several　deer；　and　again　a　coyote；　and　what　he　took　to　be
a　small　herd　of　wild　horses。　　No　more　turkey　tracks　showed　in　the　dusty
patches。　　He　crossed　a　number　of　tiny　brooklets；　and　at　length　came　to
a　place　where　the　trail　ended　or　merged　in　a　rough　road　that　showed
evidence　of　considerable　travel。　　Horses；　sheep；　and　cattle　had　passed
along　there　that　day。　　This　road　turned　southward；　and　Jean　began　to
have　pleasurable　expectations。

The　road；　like　the　trail；　led　down　grade；　but　no　longer　at　such　steep
angles；　and　was　bordered　by　cedar　and　pinyon；　jack…pine　and　juniper；
mescal　and　manzanita。　　Quite