n his part
would have done. She had pictured him a ruffian in thought, speech,
and deed. His language cleared him on one count, and she observed that
almost his first thought was for her comfort, albeit he made no sort of
apology for handling her so roughly in the gloom beyond the fire.

"I got lost," she explained, growing suddenly calm. "I was out
walking, and lost my way."

"Easy thing to do when you don't know timber," Bill remarked. "And in
consequence you haven't had any supper; you've been scared almost to
death--and probably all of Cariboo Meadows is out looking for you.
Well, you've had an adventure. That's worth something. Better eat a
bite, and you'll feel better."

He turned over the piece of meat on the coals while he spoke. Hazel
saw that it lay on two green sticks, like a steak on a gridiron. It
was quite simple, but she would never have thought of that. The meat
exhaled savory odors. Also, the warmth of the fire seemed good. But--

"I'd rather be home," she confessed.

"Sure! I guess you would--naturally. I'll see that you get there,
though it won't be easy. It's no snap to travel these woods in the
dark. You couldn't have been so far from the Meadows. How did it come
you didn't yell once in a while?"

"I didn't think it was necessary," Hazel admitted, "until it began to
get dark. And then I didn't like to."

"You got afraid," Roaring Bill supplied. "Well, it does sound creepy
to holler in the timber after night. I know how that goes. I've made
noises after night that scared myself."

He dug some utensils out of his pack layout--two plates, knife, fork,
and spoons, and laid them by the fire. Opposite the meat a pot of
water bubbled. Roaring Bill produced a small tin bucket, black with
the smoke of many an open fire, and a package, and made coffee. Then
he spread a canvas sheet, and laid on that bread, butter, salt, a jar
of preserved fruit.

"How far is it to Cariboo Meadows?" Hazel asked.

Bill looked up from his supper preparations.

"You've got me," he returned carelessly. "Probably four or five miles.
I'm not positive; I've been running in circles myself this afternoon."

"Good heavens!" Hazel exclaimed. "But you know the way?"

"Like a book--in the daytime," he replied. "But night in the timber is
another story, as you've just been finding out for yourself."

"I thought men accustomed to the wilderness could always find their way
about, day or night," Hazel