Helen saw Dale stand erect once more and gaze into the forest.

"Reckon Roy ain't comin'," he soliloquized. "An' that's good." Then he
turned to the girls. "Supper's ready."

The girls responded with a spirit greater than their activity. And
they ate like famished children that had been lost in the woods. Dale
attended them with a pleasant light upon his still face.

"To-morrow night we'll have meat," he said.

"What kind?" asked Bo.

"Wild turkey or deer. Maybe both, if you like. But it's well to take
wild meat slow. An' turkey--that 'll melt in your mouth."

"Uummm!" murmured Bo, greedily. "I've heard of wild turkey."

When they had finished Dale ate his meal, listening to the talk of the
girls, and occasionally replying briefly to some query of Bo's. It was
twilight when he began to wash the pots and pans, and almost dark by the
time his duties appeared ended. Then he replenished the campfire and
sat down on a log to gaze into the fire. The girls leaned comfortably
propped against the saddles.

"Nell, I'll keel over in a minute," said Bo. "And I oughtn't--right on
such a big supper."

"I don't see how I can sleep, and I know I can't stay awake," rejoined
Helen.

Dale lifted his head alertly.

"Listen."

The girls grew tense and still. Helen could not hear a sound, unless it
was a low thud of hoof out in the gloom. The forest seemed sleeping. She
knew from Bo's eyes, wide and shining in the camp-fire light, that she,
too, had failed to catch whatever it was Dale meant.

"Bunch of coyotes comin'," he explained.

Suddenly the quietness split to a chorus of snappy, high-strung, strange
barks. They sounded wild, yet they held something of a friendly or
inquisitive note. Presently gray forms could be descried just at the
edge of the circle of light. Soft rustlings of stealthy feet surrounded
the camp, and then barks and yelps broke out all around. It was a
restless and sneaking pack of animals, thought Helen; she was glad after
the chorus ended and with a few desultory, spiteful yelps the coyotes
went away.

Silence again settled down. If it had not been for the anxiety always
present in Helen's mind she would have thought this silence sweet and
unfamiliarly beautiful.

"Ah! Listen to that fellow," spoke up Dale. His voice was thrilling.

Again the girls strained their ears. That was not necessary, for
presently, clear and cold out of the silence, pealed a mournful howl,
long drawn, strange and fu