the dry grass to
partake of the meal, to every course of which they all did ample
justice.

"This is our last _al fresco_ feast," said Captain Neville, after
dinner, as he filled the glasses of the two ladies and of Clarence
Rockharrt and proposed the toast:

"Our lasting friendship and companionship."

It was honored warmly.

Next Clarence proposed:

"Mrs. Neville," which was also honored and responded to by the captain
in a neat little speech, at the end of which he proposed:

"Mrs. Rothsay."

This was duly met by Clarence with a brief acknowledgment. Mr. Clarence
was no speechmaker. But he proposed the health of--

"Our gallant captain," which was drank with enthusiasm.

The captain responded, and proposed--

"Mr. Clarence Rockharrt," which was cordially honored.

Then Mr. Clarence made his last little speech of personal thanks.

After this the company arose and separated, to wander about the camping
ground, to stretch their cramped limbs before returning to their seats
on their carryalls.

"Come, Clarence, let us follow this little stream up to its head. It
cannot be far away," said Corona.

Mr. Clarence silently drew her arm within his, and they walked on up the
little valley until it narrowed into a gorge, clothed with stunted trees
in brilliant autumn hues, through which the gray rocks jutted. The
tinkling of the spring which supplied the stream could be heard while it
was yet out of sight.

"Did you bring your drinking cup with you, Clarence? I should like a
draught from the spring," said Corona.

"Oh, yes," said her uncle, producing the silver cup. They clambered up
the side of the gorge until they reached the spring--a great jet of
water issuing from the rock. But there both stopped short, spellbound,
in amazement. On a ledge of rock above the spring, and facing them,
stood a majestic man, clothed in coat of buckskin, faced and bordered
with fur, leggings of buckskin and sandals of buffalo hide. On his head
he wore a fur cap that half concealed his tawny hair. The face was fine,
but sunburnt and half covered with a long, tawny beard. Corona looked
up, and recognized--Regulas Rothsay!

With a cry of terror, she struck her hands to her eyes, as if to dispel
an optical illusion, and sank half fainting, to be caught in the arms of
her uncle and laid against the side of the rocks, while he sprinkled her
face with water from the spring.

She recovered her breath, opened her eyes, and looked a