omforted. The latter was
observant, and she felt that Ida Stirling had a reason for her
confidence which, she fancied, was not lightly given.

The sunlight had, however, faded off the valley when she rose for the
last time from the seat she had found outside the tent, for there was
no doubt now that a faint patter of feet on stones mingled with the
clamor of the river. Almost as she did so, a few plodding figures
appeared beneath the firs, and she saw that two of them carried a
litter between them. Then she saw her husband walking very wearily,
and she ran forward with a little cry. She grasped one of the poles
between which a sagging blanket hung, and Weston, who held the ends of
them, looked at her.

"Miss Kinnaird isn't hurt much," he said harshly. "Don't stop us now!"

Then she heard her daughter's voice bearing out this assurance, and
she went back with the plodding men, while her husband stumbled along
wearily at her side. In a minute or two Weston, calling to one of the
Indians, laid down his end of the poles, and, staggering away, sat
down heavily. None of them troubled themselves about him, and Ida, who
had risen when she heard their voices, helped to convey Miss Kinnaird
into the tent. In the meanwhile one of the Indians growled to his
comrade when he found the fire out, and stolidly proceeded to relight
it, while Weston lay with his back against a fir and watched him with
half-closed eyes. The Siwash, however, proved that he was capable of
preparing a meal, and when it was finished, Arabella, who appeared
much fresher than the major, proceeded to relate her adventures to Ida
and her mother.

"It was rather horrible up on the range, and I was almost afraid they
wouldn't get me down," she said. "I don't know how they did it, I'm
sure. Parts of the way were simply awful. They had to cut the little
trees down for yards at a time to get my blanket litter through, and
there were places so steep that they could scarcely crawl down. The
Indians, of course, had to be relieved now and then, and my father and
the packer took turns with them."

She looked at the major with a smile.

"When it was especially steep, I preferred an Indian and the packer.
Once, you know, you dropped me; but nothing seemed to disconcert that
young man. He must have been horribly worn out, for he had been up
twice, but he was so steady and reassuringly quiet. I suppose a man of
his kind would appreciate twenty dollars. He really deserves