s there were Great Thrones on
earth, too, if one only searched far enough. Who knew that there were
not?

After all, Life was a search. She was beginning to realize that more every
day. It meant a seeking after the best things. What were those best
things, she wondered? Had she discovered the trail which, like the Milky
Way, led to them? Friendship was one, she concluded--the real friendship
which never demanded more than it was willing to give. And Service was
another--the desire to help people over the hard, rocky places--to be a
comrade, not just a spectator. Dorothy had discovered that. Then the Love
of Beautiful Things must surely be a third--the love of books and pictures
and of all the wonderful treasures of the out-of-doors. These were not
all. There were others to be found far ahead, Virginia knew--treasures
more wonderful than any yet discovered--if one searched and were worthy of
finding them.

At least she knew she had discovered the key which would open the gate to
the trail. She felt of it upon her waist. To be "Ever Vigilant" would open
the door. To be watchful of one's opportunities; never to scorn a chance
to serve; to guard against the cheap and the unlovely in books and
thoughts; to keep the windows of one's soul shining and clean, so that the
light of all things beautiful might shine in. She held the little pin
close in her hand. She and Priscilla and Dorothy and Mary and Vivian would
keep to the trail together.

Life was such a great, big thing she said to herself. Her breath sobbed in
her throat at the thought. It was like a day in April--cloudy and sunny
and wind-blown and rainy. She wanted her own life to be like that. Then
she could understand the storms and clouds in other lives, and prove she
was a comrade and not just an onlooker!

The fire died down and she went for more wood. As she placed a big log on
the glowing embers and turned away from the heat as it burst into flame,
she saw that the fire on Sagebrush was rekindled also. She could discern a
shadowy shape in the light of it. Donald, perhaps. He loved the night,
too. She had forgotten Donald for the moment when she chose her comrades
for the Long Trail, but he must go. She had followed trails with Donald
all her life, and on this great journey she needed his comradeship more
than ever.

It was one o'clock, her little watch said--time to sleep. The great log
with another added would last till morning. She rolled the second against