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"Don't hold 'em so!" said Billy hoarsely "I can't stand to see 'e It was her rare, slow, unforgetable smile Porter sed audibly Cartwell at the piano drifted from a Mohave lament to La Palo sea, I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!' But e'er I set sail I went a fond leave to take Of Nina, ept as if her poor heart would break!"

The ht Rhoda's fancy at once, as Cartwell kneould She turned to the sinewy figure at the piano DeWitt holeso Indian seemed vitality itself

"Nina, if I should die and o'er ocean's foam Softly at dusk a fair dove should come, Open thy , Nina, for it would be My faithful soul co in Cartwell's voice stirred Rhoda as had his eyes For the first tinantly that it would be hard to be cut doith all her life unlived The arette

"I aet up with the rabbits, tomorrow," he said, "so I'll trot to bed now"

DeWitt, i Indian that fought down his aversion, said, "The music was bully, Cartwell!" but Cartwell only se in the voice and strolled to his own roo She had not, in her three nights in the desert country, become accustomed to the silence that is not the least of the desert's splendors It seemed to her that the na was embodied in this infinite silence So sleep would not come to her until dawn Then the stir of the wind in the trees, the bleat of sheep, the trill of -birds lulled her to sleep

As the brilliancy of the light in her roo notes of a whistled call Pure and liquidly sweet they persisted until there ca that she had experienced the day before She opened her eyes and finally, as the call continued, she crept languidly from her bed and peered from behind the -shade Cartwell, in his khaki suit, his handsoainst a peach-tree while he watched Rhoda's

"I wonder what he wakened ain, so I may as well dress and have breakfast"