Wyoming. Virginia liked Carver, though she knew him far better now than
she had ever dreamed she should. She liked him in spite of the tinge of
snobbishness which would creep in now and then, try as he did to conceal
it. She even liked him during the ten minutes he took to lace the thong
when she could have done it in three.

It was growing dark when they at last swung into the easier, grass-grown
trail of the lower mountains--dark and cold. The realization that they
were already two miles from supper and the others, together with the
knowledge that there was still the Canyon Path to cross, made them all
silent and very grave. They hurried their horses through the last of the
tallest timber and out upon the bare summit of a mountain, which looked
down across the valley and the river to a point beyond. As they gazed,
flames shot up from the point where a newly-kindled fire was welcoming the
first star. Dark specks were visible about the fire--persons moving here
and there. Sagebrush Point--a mile across the valley, two by the trail!

Carver looked questioningly at Virginia, and found his answer in the smile
she gravely gave him. They would go no farther. Carver knew it before
Virginia discovered the paper. Vivian suspected, but would not know. They
sat quietly in their saddles while she rode Pedro close to a great pine
which bore a ranger's sign, burned in a piece of wood.

"Two miles to Sagebrush Point," read the sign.

"A good camping-place. Dangerous trailing!"

Below the sign was a folded piece of paper, fastened by Donald's
scarf-pin to the tree, and bearing Virginia's name. She read it silently
and with difficulty in the fast-fading light.

"It's just as I thought," she explained. "When Donald reached here and saw
what a long time it had taken, he knew we couldn't make the Point. He says
not to attempt it if it's after six, and it's a quarter of seven now. I
wouldn't try the Canyon Path for anything in this light, and there's no
other way to go. We'll just have to camp here, that's all! We've our
blankets and matches and plenty of bacon and bread, and there's a spring
near by. It won't be so bad. Quite an adventure!"

Her last words were spoken in an attempt to reassure Vivian, who was
staring at her--the epitome of horror.

"Camp--here--Virginia! Alone! Here! In--this--wilderness!" Vivian was
monosyllabic from terror.

Carver did not share Vivian's fear, but he was a trifle overbearing in his
judgment of