get-me-nots and wild asters.

"I have never seen anything a half so beautiful as this!" cried Joanne, as
Aldous helped her from her horse.

As her feet touched the ground she gave a little cry and hung limply in his
arms.

"I'm lame--lame for life!" she laughed in mock humour. "John, I can't
stand. I really can't!"

Old Donald was chuckling in his beard as he came up.

"You ain't nearly so lame as you'll be to-morrow," he comforted her. "An'
you won't be nearly so lame to-morrow as you'll be next day. Then you'll
begin to get used to it, Mis' Joanne."

"_Mrs. Aldous_, Donald," she corrected sweetly. "Or--just Joanne."

At that Aldous found himself holding her so closely that she gave a little
gasp.

"Please don't," she expostulated. "Your arms are terribly strong, John!"

MacDonald had turned away, still chuckling, and began to unpack. Joanne
looked behind her, then quickly held up her softly pouted lips. Aldous
kissed her, and would have kissed her again but she slipped suddenly from
his arms and going to Pinto began to untie a dishpan that was fastened to
the top of his pack.

"Get to work, John Aldous!" she commanded.

MacDonald had camped before in the basin, and there were tepee poles ready
cut, as light and dry as matchwood. Joanne watched them as they put up the
tent, and when it was done, and she looked inside, she cried delightedly:

"It's the snuggest little home I ever had, John!"

After that she busied herself in a way that was a constantly growing
pleasure to him. She took possession at once of pots and pans and kettles.
She lost no time in impressing upon both Aldous and MacDonald the fact that
while she was their docile follower on the trail she was to be at the head
of affairs in camp. While they were straightening out the outfit, hobbling
the horses, and building a fire, she rummaged through the panniers and took
stock of their provisions. She bossed old Donald in a manner that made him
fairly glow with pleasure. She bared her white arms to the elbows and made
biscuits for the "reflector" instead of bannock, while Aldous brought water
from the lake, and MacDonald cut wood. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes
were laughing, joyous, happy. MacDonald seemed years younger. He obeyed her
like a boy, and once Aldous caught him looking at her in a way that set him
thinking again of those days of years and years ago, and of other camps,
and of another woman--like Joanne.

MacDonald had thought of t