from the Spring, fried with
slices of bacon; baked potatoes, cocoa and doughnuts formed the menu,
which the hearty appetites of all transformed into a banquet; and no
one felt compelled to refuse a second or third helping from motives of
politeness.

"Where's the Spring?" Blue Bonnet asked suddenly. "The only creek
I've seen is about as wide as my hand."

"Just a short walk from camp," Knight replied. "I'm saving that to
show you in the morning."

There fell a moment of silence.

"Did I hear you sigh?" Alec was looking at Blue Bonnet in
astonishment. She had never looked happier or prettier in her life;
sun and wind had painted a rose-blush on her cheeks; the blue eyes
were positively luminous. Yet he had distinctly heard her sigh.

She nodded. "I had to. I'm just too full for utterance--no, no!--I'll
take another doughnut! I didn't mean that literally. But I'm full of
content,--I'd like to purr."

Alec laughed. "It's the best fun I've ever had. I believe I must be
part Indian, and this is the only time I've ever been able to obey
'the call of the wild.' It makes me sorry for all the misguided folk
that spend all their lives in houses."

"Look at Grandmother," Blue Bonnet whispered. "Who would ever have
thought that a Colonial Dame would look so natural eating beans with a
tin spoon? I wish Uncle Cliff could have come, he's a born camper."

"Why didn't Mr. Terry come to dinner?" Knight asked.

"Uncle Joe!" Blue Bonnet's spoon dropped with a clatter. She hadn't
even thought of Uncle Joe! "Mrs. Judson," she stammered, "will you
please excuse me? I'll be right back." Hardly waiting for Mrs.
Judson's surprised "Certainly," she sprang lightly over the bench and
vanished through the trees.

The We are Sevens, used to Blue Bonnet's methods, went on
unconcernedly with their dessert; but the Judsons looked mildly
amazed.

Blue Bonnet found Uncle Joe smoking contentedly before a cosy gypsy
fire on which a coffee-pot was steaming. She burst upon him
breathlessly.

"Uncle Joe--I forgot,--you're invited out to dinner!"

He smiled at her over his pipe. "I ain't got a dinner-coat, Honey."

"But, Uncle Joe--it was horrid of me I know--"

"No uncomplimentary remarks, please," he interrupted; then seeing that
she was really distressed he went on seriously: "Don't you worry about
Uncle Joe, Blue Bonnet. He's used to looking out for Number One. I had
to help Miguel hobble the horses, and that's a job that won't wait for