camp-fire, where a kettle of game-broth simmered over the coals. The
last I saw of her she was smelling of it, and I turned my back and
advanced towards the second lady pilgrim, prepared to be civil until
snubbed.

Now, it is quite certain that never before had William Spike or I
beheld so much feminine loveliness in one human body on the back of a
mule. She was clad in the daintiest of shooting-kilts, yet there was
nothing mannish about her except the way she rode the mule, and that
only accentuated her adorable femininity.

I remembered what Professor Lesard had said about blue stockings--but
Miss Dorothy Van Twiller's were gray, turned over at the tops, and
disappearing into canvas spats buckled across a pair of slim
shooting-boots.

"Welcome," said I, attempting to restrain a too violent cordiality.
"Welcome, Professor Van Twiller, to the Hudson Mountains."

"Thank you," she replied, accepting my assistance very sweetly; "it is
a pleasure to meet a human being again."

I glanced at Miss Smawl. She was eating game-broth, but she resembled
a human being in a general way.

"I should very much like to wash my hands," said Professor Van
Twiller, drawing the buckskin gloves from her slim fingers.

I brought towels and soap and conducted her to the brook.

She called to Professor Smawl to join her, and her voice was
crystalline; Professor Smawl declined, and her voice was batrachian.

"She is so hungry!" observed Miss Van Twiller. "I am very thankful we
are here at last, for we've had a horrid time. You see, we neither of
us know how to cook."

I wondered what they would say to William's cooking, but I held my
peace and retired, leaving the little brook to mirror the sweetest
face that was ever bathed in water.

VIII

That afternoon our expedition, in two sections, moved forward. The
first section comprised myself and all the mules; the second section
was commanded by Professor Smawl, followed by Professor Van Twiller,
armed with a tiny shot-gun. William, loaded down with the ladies'
toilet articles, skulked in the rear. I say skulked; there was no
other word for it.

"So you're a guide, are you?" observed Professor Smawl when William,
cap in hand, had approached her with well-meant advice. "The woods are
full of lazy guides. Pick up those Gladstone bags! I'll do the guiding
for this expedition."

Made cautious by William's humiliation, I associated with the mules
exclusively. Nevertheless, Prof