, but when I first
thought I had missed the right road we were coming down into a grassy
valley. Mr. Stewart came across a marshy stretch of meadow and climbed
up on the wagon. The ground was more level, and on every side were
marshes and pools; the willows grew higher here so that we couldn't
see far ahead. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was behind, and she called out,
"Say, I believe we are off the road." Elizabeth said she had noticed a
road winding off on our right; so we agreed that I must have taken the
wrong one, but as we couldn't turn in the willows, we had to go on.
Soon we reached higher, drier ground and passed through a yellow grove
of quaking asp.

A man came along with an axe on his shoulder, and Mr. Stewart asked
him about the road. "Yes," he said, "you are off the main road, but
on a better. You'll cross the same stream you were going to camp on,
right at my ranch. It is just a little way across here and it's almost
sundown, so I will show you the way."

He strode along ahead. We drove through an avenue of great dark
pines and across a log bridge that spanned a noisy, brawling stream.
The man opened a set of bars and we drove into a big clean corral.
Comfortable sheds and stables lined one side, and big stacks of hay
were conveniently placed. He began to help unharness the teams, saying
that they might just as well run in his meadow, as he was through
haying; then the horses would be safe while we fished. He insisted
on our stopping in his cabin, which we found to be a comfortable
two-room affair with a veranda the whole length. The _biggest_ pines
overshadowed the house; just behind it was a garden, in which some
late vegetables were still growing. The air was rather frosty and some
worried hens were trying hard to cover some chirping half-feathered
chicks.

It was such a homey place that we felt welcome and perfectly
comfortable at once. The inside of the house will not be hard to
describe. It was clean as could be, but with a typical bachelor's
cleanliness: there was no dirt, but a great deal of disorder. Across
the head of the iron bed was hung a miscellany of socks, neckties, and
suspenders. A discouraging assortment of boots, shoes, and leggings
protruded from beneath the bed. Some calendars ornamented the wall,
and upon a table stood a smoky lamp and some tobacco and a smelly
pipe. On a rack over the door lay a rifle.

Pretty soon our host came bustling in and exclaimed, "The kitchen is
more pleasant t