swear he
can cry. He does whenever I start off without him."

"How perfectly wonderful!" exclaimed Bo. "Aren't animals great?... But I
love horses best."

It seemed to Helen that Pedro understood they were talking about him,
for he looked ashamed, and swallowed hard, and dropped his gaze. She
knew something of the truth about the love of dogs for their owners.
This story of Dale's, however, was stranger than any she had ever heard.

Tom, the cougar, put in an appearance then, and there was scarcely love
in the tawny eyes he bent upon Pedro. But the hound did not deign to
notice him. Tom sidled up to Bo, who sat on the farther side of the
tarpaulin table-cloth, and manifestly wanted part of her breakfast.

"Gee! I love the look of him," she said. "But when he's close he makes
my flesh creep."

"Beasts are as queer as people," observed Dale. "They take likes an'
dislikes. I believe Tom has taken a shine to you an' Pedro begins to be
interested in your sister. I can tell."

"Where's Bud?" inquired Bo.

"He's asleep or around somewhere. Now, soon as I get the work done, what
would you girls like to do?"

"Ride!" declared Bo, eagerly.

"Aren't you sore an' stiff?"

"I am that. But I don't care. Besides, when I used to go out to my
uncle's farm near Saint Joe I always found riding to be a cure for
aches."

"Sure is, if you can stand it. An' what will your sister like to do?"
returned Dale, turning to Helen.

"Oh, I'll rest, and watch you folks--and dream," replied Helen.

"But after you've rested you must be active," said Dale, seriously. "You
must do things. It doesn't matter what, just as long as you don't sit
idle."

"Why?" queried Helen, in surprise. "Why not be idle here in this
beautiful, wild place? just to dream away the hours--the days! I could
do it."

"But you mustn't. It took me years to learn how bad that was for me. An'
right now I would love nothin' more than to forget my work, my horses
an' pets--everythin', an' just lay around, seein' an' feelin'."

"Seeing and feeling? Yes, that must be what I mean. But why--what is
it? There are the beauty and color--the wild, shaggy slopes--the gray
cliffs--the singing wind--the lulling water--the clouds--the sky. And
the silence, loneliness, sweetness of it all."

"It's a driftin' back. What I love to do an' yet fear most. It's what
makes a lone hunter of a man. An' it can grow so strong that it binds a
man to the wilds."

"How strange!" murmured