ie said, again and again. "I can't
believe we are only a half-day's drive from the agency. I never saw more
delicious greens."

Mrs. Parker, being an amateur botanist, was filled with delight of the
thickening flowers. "It is exactly as if we had begun in August and were
moving backward towards spring. I feel as though violets were near. It
is positively enchanting."

"You'll camp beside violets to-night," replied Curtis.

Lawson pretended to sleep. Parker smoked a pipe while striding along
behind the wagon. Elsie drove, and of course Curtis could not leave her
to guide the team alone. Necessarily, they talked freely on many topics,
and all restraint, all reserve, were away at last. It is difficult to
hold a formal and carefully considered conversation in a jolting
buckboard climbing towards a great range of shining peaks, and every
frank speech brought them into friendlier relation. Considered in this
light, the afternoon assumed vast importance.

At last, just on the edge of a small lake entirely enclosed by sparse
pines, they drew into camp. To the west the top of a snow mountain could
be seen, low down, and against it a thin column of blue smoke was
rising. The water, dark as topaz and smooth as oil, reflected the
opposite shore, the yellow sky, and the peak with magic clearness, and
Elsie was seized with a desire to do something.

"Where is my paint-box? Here is the background for some action--I don't
know what--something primeval."

"An Indian in a canoe, _a la_ Brush; or a bear coming down to drink, _a
la_ Bierstadt," suggested Parker.

"Don't mention that old fogy," cried Elsie.

Lawson interposed. "Well, now, those old chaps had something to say--and
that's better than your modern Frenchmen do."

She was soon at work, with Lawson and Parker standing by her side,
overlooking her panel and offering advice.

"There's no color in that," Parker said, finally. "It's a
black-and-white merely. Its charm is in things you can't paint--the feel
of the air, the smell of pine boughs."

"Go away--both of you," she commanded, curtly, and they retreated to the
camp, where Curtis was setting the tents, and Jennie, old Mary, and Two
Horns, with swift and harmonious action, were bringing appetizing odors
out of various cans and boxes, what time the crackle of the fire
increased to a gentle roar. There they sat immovably, shamelessly
waiting till the call for supper came.

They were all hungry, and Jennie's cooking