there in five minutes I'll dowse you with a dipperful."

This reminded Wayland that he had not yet made his own toilet, and,
seizing soap, towel, and brushes, he hurried away down to the beach where
he came face to face with the dawn. The splendor of it smote him full in
the eyes. From the waveless surface of the water a spectral mist was
rising, a light veil, through which the stupendous cliffs loomed three
thousand feet in height, darkly shadowed, dim and far. The willows along
the western marge burned as if dipped in liquid gold, and on the lofty
crags the sun's coming created keen-edged shadows, violet as ink. Truly
this forestry business was not so bad after all. It had its
compensations.

Back at the camp-fire he found Berrie at work, glowing, vigorous,
laughing. Her comradeship with her father was very charming, and at the
moment she was rallying him on his method of bread-mixing. "You should
rub the lard into the flour," she said. "Don't be afraid to get your
hands into it--after they are clean. You can't mix bread with a spoon."

"Sis, I made camp bread for twenty years afore you were born."

"It's a wonder you lived to tell of it," she retorted, and took the pan
away from him. "That's another thing _you_ must learn," she said to
Wayland. "You must know how to make bread. You can't expect to find
bake-shops or ranchers along the way."

In the heat of the fire, in the charm of the girl's presence, the young
man forgot the discomforts of the night, and as they sat at breakfast,
and the sun rising over the high summits flooded them with warmth and
good cheer, and the frost melted like magic from the tent, the experience
had all the satisfying elements of a picnic. It seemed that nothing
remained to do; but McFarlane said: "Well, now, you youngsters wash up
and pack whilst I reconnoiter the stock." And with his saddle and bridle
on his shoulder he went away down the trail.

Under Berrie's direction Wayland worked busily putting the camp equipment
in proper parcels, taking no special thought of time till the tent was
down and folded, the panniers filled and closed, and the fire carefully
covered. Then the girl said: "I hope the horses haven't been stampeded.
There are bears in this valley, and horses are afraid of bears. Father
ought to have been back before this. I hope they haven't quit us."

"Shall I go and see?"

"No, he'll bring 'em--if they're in the land of the living. He picketed
his saddle-horse, so