that she never knew how faint he
really was. His knees were trembling with weakness, and he stumbled
dangerously as he trod the loose rocks in the path.

They were all afoot now descending swiftly, and the horses ramped down
the trail with expectant haste, so that in less than an hour from
timber-line they were back into the sunshine of the lower valley, and at
three o'clock or thereabouts they came out upon the bank of an exquisite
lake, and with a cheery shout McFarlane called out: "Here we are, out of
the wilderness!" Then to Wayland: "Well, boy, how did you stand it?"

"Just middling," replied Wayland, reticent from weariness and with joy of
their camping-place. The lake, dark as topaz and smooth as steel, lay in
a frame of golden willows--as a jewel is filigreed with gold--and above
it the cliffs rose three thousand feet in sheer majesty, their upper
slopes glowing with autumnal grasses. A swift stream roared down a low
ledge and fell into the pond near their feet. Grassy, pine-shadowed
knolls afforded pasture for the horses, and two giant firs, at the edge
of a little glade, made a natural shelter for their tent.

With businesslike certitude Berrie unsaddled her horse, turned him loose,
and lent a skilful hand at removing the panniers from the pack-animals,
while Wayland, willing but a little uncertain, stood awkwardly about.
Under her instruction he collected dead branches of a standing fir, and
from these and a few cones kindled a blaze, while the Supervisor hobbled
the horses and set the tent.

"If the work of a forester were all like this it wouldn't be so bad," he
remarked, wanly. "I think I know several fellows who would be glad to do
it without a cent of pay."

"Wait till you get to heaving a pick," she retorted, "or scaling lumber
in a rain, or building a corduroy bridge."

"I don't want to think of anything so dreadful. I want to enjoy this
moment. I never was hungrier or happier in my life."

"Do ye good," interjected McFarlane, who had paused to straighten up the
coffee-pot. "Most people don't know what hunger means. There's nothing
finer in the world than good old-fashioned hunger, provided you've got
something to throw into yourself when you come into camp. This is a great
place for fish. I think I'll see if I can't jerk a few out."

"Better wait till night," said his daughter. "Mr. Norcross is starving,
and so am I. Plain bacon will do me."

The coffee came to a boil, the skillet gave off a