CHAPTER XIII.
Keith's Masterful Wooing.
Keith faced toward home, with Redcloud following at his heels like a pet dog. For some reason, which he did not try to analyze, he was feeling light of heart—as though something very nice had happened to him. It might have been the unexpected clearing up of the mystery of the prairie-fire, though he was not dwelling particularly upon that. He was thinking a great deal more of Beatrice's blue-brown eyes, which had never been more baffling, so far as he knew. And his blood was still dancing with the smile she had given him; it hardly seemed possible that a girl could smile just like that and not mean anything.
When he reached the level, where she was waiting for him, he saw that she had her arms around the neck of her horse, and that she was crying dismally, heart-brokenly, with an abandon that took no thought of his presence. Keith had never seen a girl cry like that before. He had seen them dab
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