ad like a plague over the entire company, and
all for the want of a bath, a supper and a good night's rest.

"Ah, here are Mr. and Mrs. Lupo," exclaimed Mr. Campbell in a tone of
relief, as a man and woman approached down the gallery. "They are half
Indians," he added in a low voice. "Mrs. Lupo will be cook and her
husband, guide, protector and man of all work."

Miss Campbell turned reproachful eyes upon her relative.

So then they were to be left in charge of two half-breed Indians in this
wild mountainous place, while he was away. Really, men were too
incorrigible. But Mr. and Mrs. Lupo, at first glimpse, were far removed
from savages. They were, apparently, like two shy, gentle animals with
dark, shining eyes, and when they spoke, which was seldom, it was almost
as if they had broken a vow of silence. Winter and summer they lived in
these high places, and only occasionally did Mrs. Lupo descend to the
valley to visit the little shops in the village and look upon the
vanities of life.

"Well, Mrs. Lupo," said Mr. Campbell, after shaking hands with the
husband and wife and properly introducing them to the others, "I trust
you have some food ready for a crowd of very hungry people. It was too
hot this afternoon to be enthusiastic about lunch at the Valley Inn and
hunger has overtaken us."

Mrs. Lupo looked gravely from one face to another but said nothing.

"Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes," answered her husband, and the
strange pair promptly and quietly disappeared.

"She reminds me," said Mary to Billie, "of one of those genii in fairy
tales that appear when you want them and melt away when you have
finished with them."

"I wonder if she can cook," was Billie's unpoetic reply.

During these brief moments they had lingered on the dusty gallery, and
now Mr. Campbell, eager as a boy for their approval, led them through
the broad opening into the only room of the camp, of which they had
caught glimpses as they waited outside. But they were quite unprepared
for its vast size, capped by the unceiled roof now fast filling with
shadows.

"Why, it's really grand," cried Miss Campbell, with a sudden spurt of
enthusiasm. "It's like a cathedral."

"Isn't it fine?" answered Mr. Campbell. "I think the primeval huts must
have looked like this, and when it came time to build churches it wasn't
a very far cry."

"I expect Mr. Primeval Man would have been mighty glad to have had one
of those nice Morris chairs,"