the professor were talking
together, looked fixedly at the hammock.

"If you are awake, dear, it would be tremendously thoughtful to let
the professor have the hammock for a while. He is utterly exhausted
from fighting fire all night," she said with sugar-coated annoyance in
her tone.

"Oh, don't disturb her--I'm doing very well here for the present," the
professor made feeble protest when Marion showed no sign of having
heard the hint. "Let the child sleep."

"The child certainly needs sleep, if I am any judge," Kate snapped
pettishly, and closed her lips upon further revelations. "Shall I
poach you some eggs? And then if the child continues to sleep, I
suppose we can bring your cot out under the trees. It is terribly
stuffy in the tent. You'd roast."

"Please don't put yourself to any inconvenience at all, Kate. I am
really not hungry at all. Provisions were furnished those who fought
the fire. I had coffee, and a really substantial breakfast before I
left them. I shall lie here for a while and enjoy the luxury of doing
nothing for a while. By George, Kate! The Forest Service certainly
does make a man work! Think of felling trees all night long! That is
the way they go about it, I find. They cut down trees and clear away
a strip across the front of the fire where there seems to be the
greatest possibility of keeping the flames from jumping across. They
even go so far as to rake back the pine needles and dry cones as
thoroughly as possible, and in that manner they prevent the flames
from creeping along the ground. It is really wonderfully effective
when they can get to work in the light growth. I was astounded to see
what may be accomplished with axes and picks and rakes and shovels.
But it is work, though. By George, it is work!"

"Don't try to root in those needles for a soft spot," Kate advised him
practically. "Not when some persons have more cushions than they need
or can use." Whereupon she went over and took two pillows from under
Marion's feet, and pulled another from under her shoulder.

These made the professor comfortable enough. He lay back smiling
gratefully--even affectionately--upon her.

"You certainly do know how to make a man glad that he is alive," he
thanked her. "Now, if I could lie here and look up through these
branches and listen while a dear little woman I know recites Shelley's
_The Cloud_, I could feel that paradise holds no greater joys than
this sheltered little vale."

The hammo