say, Willow Creek is really quite in flood," said his sister. "The
hot sun has brought down the snows, you know. The logs are running, too.
We will have to go a bit carefully. Hold well up to the stream and watch
the logs. Keep your eye on the bank opposite. No, no, keep up, follow
me. Look out, or you will get into deep water. Keep to the right. There,
that's better."

"I say," said her brother, as his horse clambered out of the swollen
stream. "That's rather a close thing to a ducking. Awfully like the
veldt streams, you know. Ice cold, too, I fancy."

"Ice cold, indeed, glacier water, you know, and these logs make it very
awkward. The Gwynnes must be running down their timber and firewood. We
might just run up and look in on them. It's only a mile or so. Nora will
be there. She will be 'bossing the job,' as she says. It will be rather
interesting."

"Well, I hope it is not too far, for I assure you I am getting quite
ravenous."

"No, come along, there's a good trail here."

A smart canter brought them to a rather pretentious homestead with
considerable barns and outbuildings attached. "This is the Switzers'
place," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "German-Americans, old settlers and
quite well off. The father owned the land on which Wolf Willow village
stands. He made quite a lot of money in real estate--village lots and
farm lands, you know. He is an excellent farmer and ambitious for his
family--one son and one daughter. They are quite plain people. They live
like--well, like Germans, you know. The mother is a regular hausfrau;
the daughter, quite nice, plays the violin beautifully. It was from her
young Gwynne got his violining. The son went to college in the States,
then to Germany for a couple of years. He came back here a year ago,
terribly German and terribly military, heel clicking, ram-rod back, and
all that sort of thing. Musical, too, awfully clever; rather think he
has political ambitions. We'll not go in to-day. Some day, perhaps.
Indeed, we must be neighbourly in this country. But the Switzers are a
little trying."

"Why know them at all?"

"There you are!" cried his sister. "Fancy living beside people in this
country and not knowing them. Can't you see that we must not let things
get awry that way? We must all pull together. Tom is fearfully strong on
that, and he is right, too, I suppose, although it is trying at times.
Now we begin to climb a bit here. Then there are good stretches further
along wher