darkened rooms, they found themselves unable to
sleep owing to the glare coming through the white canvas.

Out of consideration for his guests, whom he remembered as late risers,
Wallie had set the breakfast hour at eight-thirty. This seemed an
eternity to The Happy Family who, already famished, consulted their
watches with increasing frequency while they watched the door of the
bunk-house like cats at a mouse-hole for the cook to make his
appearance.

After a restless night due to strange beds and surroundings, still
fatigued with their long journey, their muscles stiff from the
"churning" in the stagecoach, they were not better natured for being
ferociously hungry.

After wandering around to look listlessly at the ponies, and at the
salt-water plunge that was to rejuvenate them, they sat down on the edge
of the platforms in front of their tents to endure somehow the three
hours which must pass before breakfast.

The dawn was sweet-scented, the song of the meadow-lark celestial, and
the colours of the coming day reflected on the snow-covered peaks a
sight to be remembered, but the guests had no eyes or ears or nose for
any of the charms of the early morning. The rising of the sun was
nothing as compared to the rising of the cook who would appease their
savage hunger.

Conversation was reduced to monosyllables as, miserable and apathetic,
they sat thinking of the food they had sent back to Mr. Cone's kitchen
with caustic comments, of the various dishes for which the chef of The
Colonial was celebrated.

Mr. Stott thought that his watch must be slow until it was found that
every other watch agreed with his exactly. He declared that when the
cook did appear he meant to urge him to hurry breakfast.

The cook came out, finally, at seven-thirty, and, after a surprised
glance at the row on the platforms, strode into the kitchen where he
rattled the range as if it were his purpose to wreck it.

When the smoke rose from the chimney Mr. Stott went to the door to carry
out his intention of asking the cook to speed up breakfast.

A large sign greeted him:

DUDES KEEP OUT

The cook was a gaunt, long-legged person with a saturnine countenance.
He wore a seersucker coat with a nickel badge pinned on the lapel of
it.

As an opening wedge Mr. Stott smiled engagingly and pointed to it:

"For exceptional gallantry, I presume--a war medal?"

The hero stopped long enough to offer it for Mr. Stott's closer
inspection.