As the girl caught sight of him, there beside the spring, she waved her hand in greeting.  And the man, as he waved his answer, and watched her riding toward him, felt a thrill of gladness that she had come.  The strong, true friendship that began with their very first meeting, when she had been so frankly interested in the tenderfoot, and so kindly helpful, and which had developed so steadily through the year, gave him, now, a feeling of comfort and relief.  Wearied and worn by his disappointment and by his struggle with himself, with the cherished hope that had enabled him to choose and endure the hard life of the range brought to a sudden end, with his life itself made so empty and futile, he welcomed his woman friend with a warmth and gladness that brought a flush of pleasure to Kitty’s cheek.

For Kitty, too, had just passed through a humiliating and disappointing experience.  In her troubled frame of mind, and in her perplexed and confused questioning, the young woman was as glad for the companionship of Patches as he was glad to welcome her.  She felt a curious sense of relief and safety in his presence—­somewhat as one, who, walking over uncertain bogs or treacherous quicksands, finds, all at once, the solid ground.

“I saw you go past the house,” she said, when she reached the spring where he stood awaiting her, “and I decided right then that I would go along with you to Granite Basin and visit my friends the Mannings.  They told me that I might come this week, and I think they have had quite enough honeymooning, anyway.  You know where they are camped, do you?”

“Yes,” he answered.  “I saw them yesterday.  But, come!  Get down and cool off a bit.  You’ve been riding some, haven’t you?”

“I wanted to catch you as soon as I could,” she laughed, as she sprang lightly to the ground.  “And you see you gained a good start while I was getting Midnight saddled.  What a pretty spot!  I must have a drink of that water this minute.”

“Sorry I have no cup,” he said, and then he laughed with the pleasure of good comradeship as she answered: 

“You forget that I was born to the customs of this country.”  And, throwing aside her broad hat, she went down on the ground to drink from the spring, even as he had done.

As the man watched her, a sudden thought flashed into his mind—­a thought so startling, so unexpected, that he was for the moment bewildered.

“Talk about the nectar of the gods!” cried Kitty with a deep breath of satisfaction, as she lifted her smiling face from the bright water to look up at him.  And then she drank again.

“And now, if you please, sir, you may bring me some of that water-cress; we’ll sit over there in the shade, and who cares whether Granite Basin, the Mannings, and your fellow cow-punchers, are fifteen or fifty miles away?”

He brought a generous bunch of the water-cress, and stretched himself full length beside her, as she sat on the ground under a tall sycamore.