dy.

"Automatic fire extinguisher!" she called back. His laugh answered her.

"That man has a nice laugh," she confided to the woods.

Bill received her with whoops of joy, and set to work to dry her out.

"You know how to make people very comfortable, Bill. Are you married?"
she asked him.

"Not jest now."

"Does that mean that you have been or you're going to be?"

"I had a wife fer a while, but she lit out with a logger thet played the
fiddle."

"Well, did you just let her go?"

"Sure, she was gone when I heard 'bout it."

"That was tough," she commiserated him.

"Oh, I don't know. She didn't like it on a ranch. I got her in a mining
camp, so natcherlly she thought it was slow out here. She was used to a
shootin' or two on Sat'day nights."

"Think of not liking it here!"

"Wa'al, my likin' ain't your likin', ye know; no two the same. If I cud
have played the fiddle, an ef I'd a had a hellofa temper, I might a kep'
her. But there ye are."

"You don't know where she is?"

"Nope."

"You don't miss her?"

"Not so's ye'd notice."

"You didn't have any children?"

"Nope. Now let's talk about somethin' cheerful, like a lynchin'."

She begged for a tale of his gold-mining days. He was usually a silent
man, but once or twice over the fire at night they had succeeded in
unlocking his lips, and from that time on his colourful cowboy language
had delighted Barbara. At first he had been a little shy of her, but now
they were fast friends. He always mentioned her to Trent as "the little
feller," and he admitted that "she was the best all-round woman exhibit
he ever saw."

He had just reached the climax of his adventure when Paul came into
camp. Barbara, wrapped in a blanket, sat beside the fire, while her
clothes hung on the line behind her. Her face was alive with response to
Bill's oratory.

"I grabbed him round the middle, an' I swang him over my head, an' I sot
him down so hard it jarred his ancestors," said he. Barbara's laugh
greeted the phrase and Paul stalked in on them.

"How is the little feller?" he asked.

"He has to stay in a barrel till his duds dries out," said Bill. "He
furgot to hang his clothes on the hickory-nut limb."

"I've had the time of my life, listening to Bill. He knows more good
stories than anybody in the world."

"Listen at her! She's stringin' ye, Mr. Trent." He strode off to take in
the clothes, big with pride.

"Think you'll take cold?" asked Paul.

"Cold? The