r.

The two had come to the stage where the world seems crowded with
onlookers, and the silent solitude of the heights beyond lured them on
as to a haven of refuge. Philip could not always be with them during the
week ahead, nor Brother Bates. Meanwhile, the most assiduous of
chaperons was powerless to deflect the precious current of consciousness
that flowed between them, striking out sparks at every contact of touch
or glance....

At noon they rested beside a little clear leaping stream, and
investigated with satisfaction the lunch-basket Big Liza had packed for
them at Storm. Afterwards, Jacqueline curled herself up in the leaves
and went to sleep like a contented young kitten, while the three men
smoked in silence, careful not to disturb her. Once, glancing at
Channing, Philip surprised in his face, as he watched her, such a look
of tenderness that his heart smote him.

"What a fool I am with my suspicions!" he thought. "Of course he wants
her. Dear little thing! How could he help it?"

After that he was a more merciful chaperon, and rode ahead up the trail
quite obliviously, engaging Brother Bates in conversation.

It was sunset before they came to their destination, their high spirits
fallen into rather weary silence, all of them glad of the sight of the
cabin where the peddler had arranged for them to spend the night. He had
sent word ahead to friends of his, and they were evidently expected. A
man watching in the doorway called over his shoulder, "Here they be,
Mehitabel," and came forward with the grave mountain greeting, "Howdy,
strangers."

They were led in at once to supper, an appalling meal of soggy cornbread
and molasses, with hog-meat swimming in grease. Their host and his two
sons ate with them, waited on by his wife and daughter, all five staring
at Jacqueline in unwinking silence, regarding her friendly efforts to
draw them into conversation as frivolity beneath their notice.

The author glanced around him with a rather alarmed interest. It was
evident that the room in which they were served not only as kitchen and
living-room, but as bed-chamber also. It was the only room the cabin
boasted, with the exception of a small lean-to, devoted, if he could
trust his nostrils, to the family pig. Each end of the room was filled
by a long bunk, and he came to the correct conclusion that one was for
the women of the household, the other for the men. There were no
windows, no means of ventilation whateve