he fire burned
low, for that must not be hurried.

Over the fire and the kettles Ranald presided, black, grimy, and silent,
and to Don fell the duty of doing the honors of the camp; and right
worthily did he do his part. He greeted his mother with reverence,
cuffed his young brother, kissed his little sister Jennie, tossing her
high, and welcomed with warm heartiness Mrs. Murray and her niece. The
Airds had not yet come, but all the rest were there. The Finlaysons and
the McKerachers, Dan Campbell's boys, and their sister Betsy, whom every
one called "Betsy Dan," redheaded, freckled, and irrepressible; the
McGregors, and a dozen or more of the wildest youngsters that could be
found in all the Indian Lands. Depositing their baskets in the shanty,
for they had no thought of fasting, they crowded about the fire.

"Attention!" cried Don, who had a "gift of the gab," as his mother
said. "Ladies and gentlemen, the program for this evening is as follows:
games, tea, and taffy, in the order mentioned. In the first, all MUST
take part; in the second, all MAY take part; but in the third, none NEED
take part."

After the laughter and the chorus of "Ohs" had subsided, Don proceeded:
"The captains for the evening are, Elizabeth Campbell, better known
as 'Betsy Dan,' and John Finlayson, familiar to us all as 'Johnnie the
Widow,' two young people of excellent character, and I believe, slightly
known to each other."

Again a shout went up from the company, but Betsy Dan, who cared not at
all for Don's banter, contented herself with pushing out her lower lip
at him with scorn, in that indescribable manner natural to girls, but to
boys impossible.

Then the choosing began. Betsy Dan, claiming first choice by virtue of
her sex, immediately called out, "Ranald Macdonald."

But Ranald shook his head. "I cannot leave the fire," he said, blushing;
"take Don there."

But Betsy demurred. "I don't want Don," she cried. "Come on, Ranald; the
fire will do quite well." Betsy, as indeed did most of the school-girls,
adored Ranald in her secret heart, though she scorned to show it.

But Ranald still refused, till Don said, "It is too bad, Betsy, but
you'll have to take me."

"Oh, come on, then!" laughed Betsy; "you will be better than nobody."

Then it was Johnnie the Widow's choice: "Maimie St. Clair."

Maimie hesitated and looked at her aunt, who said, "Yes, go, my dear, if
you would like."

"Marget Aird!" cried Betsy, spying Marget