and stepped out into the crisp, sweet
freshness of the autumn air. He had made two small packs, provisions
rolled into the bedding and the whole wrapped in pieces of canvas; he
estimated they would be gone five days, and then, making due allowance
for any reasonable delay, provisioned for ten. When he saw that Gloria
had noted how for the first time on a woodland jaunt with her he carried
a very businesslike-looking rifle, he explained laughingly that if they
developed abnormal appetites there were both deer and bear to be had.
She was much interested in everything, and looked out to the mountains
eagerly when King had swung her up to her saddle on Blackie, the tall,
sober-faced horse, where she sat with a roll of blankets at her back and
with the horn before her decorated with a miscellany of camp
equipment--a frying-pan, a short-handled axe in its sheath, an overcoat
done into a compact bundle. Here was another moment when thoughts were
too slow processes to emphasize themselves; she was swayed by emotions
provoked by the moment. Where were the trunks and suitcases and
hat-boxes to accompany the young bride? In their stead, a coat tied into
a tight bundle and a frying-pan before her. King looked at her and
marvelled; her cheeks were roses, her eyes were Gloria's own, wonderful
and big and deep beyond fathoming. From his own saddle on the buckskin
he nodded his approval of her.

"You are not afraid that I can't take care of you, are you, Gloria?" he
asked.

And Gloria laughed gaily, answering:

"My dear Mr. Man, I am not the least little bit afraid of anything in
all the world this morning!"

So with the glorious day brightening all about them they turned away
from the log house and into the trail which straightway King dubbed
"Adventure Trail." And as they went he sang out joyously:

"The Lord knows what we'll find, dear heart, and the deuce knows what
we'll do.
But we're back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
And Life runs large on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new."

_Chapter XVII_

The magnificent wilderness into which rode Mark and Gloria King seemed
to prostrate its august self to do them honour upon this their wedding
morning. Succeeding the paler tints of the earlier hour came the rare
blue day. Last night's clouds had vanished; the air was clear and crisp,
with still a hint of frost. On all hands had October in passing splashed
the world with colo