eading and
meditating. You have a fine collection, sir," and he turned to Weston,
who was standing near.

"I bring only the masters here," was the reply. "One cannot afford to
pack useless truck over the trail. In a place such as this the mind is
naturally reflective, and one craves for things that are old and firmly
established."

"But what about those?" and Reynolds pointed to the magazines and
newspapers.

"Oh, they have their place, too," and Weston smiled. "Even in the
wilderness a man should not lose touch with the busy world outside. I
consider that the study of the past and present should go together. By
keeping abreast of the times one can form some idea how the world is
progressing, and by reading the masters of other days one can interpret
all the better the problems of the present."

While Weston and Reynolds discussed the books, Glen was busily engaged
setting the table for supper. Natsu had taken the horses down to the
wild meadow some distance away, and Sconda was in the kitchen. The
latter was an excellent cook, and prided himself upon his ability to
provide a most delicious repast, whether of moose meat or fried salmon.
It was the latter he was preparing this evening, the fish having been
brought from Glen West. Several loaves of fresh white bread, made the
night before, had been provided by Nannie, as well as some choice cake
and preserves.

In a little less than an hour supper was ready, and Glen took her place
at the head of the table. Cloth for the table there was none, but the
rough boards were spotlessly clean. The dishes were coarse, and all
the dainty accessories of a modern household were wanting. But
Reynolds never enjoyed a meal as he did that one in the little cabin by
the mirroring lake. To him it was the girl who supplied all that was
lacking. She performed her humble duties as hostess with the same
grace as if presiding at a fashionable repast in the heart of
civilization. He noted the happy expression in her eyes, and the rich
color which mantled her cheeks whenever she met his ardent gaze.

Glen was happier than she had ever been in her life, and while her
father and Reynolds talked, she paid little attention to what they were
saying. She was thinking of the great change which had come over her
father during the last few days. He had made no reference to her
confession of love for the young man, for which she was most thankful.
She believed that he liked Reynold