rossing to the dressing table straightened her hair
and composed her face.

"Ajax demands to see you," cried a gay voice.

The Girl stepped outside.

"Don't be frightened if he screams at you," warned the Harvester as she
passed him. "He detests a stranger, and he always cries and sulks."

It was a question what was in the head of the bird as he saw the strange
looking creature invading his domain, and he did scream, a wild, high,
strident wail that delighted the Harvester inexpressibly, because it
sent the Girl headlong into his arms.

"Oh, good gracious!" she cried. "Has such a beautiful bird got a noise
in it like that? Why I've fed them in parks and I never heard one
explode before."

Then how the Harvester laughed.

"But you see you are in the woods now, and this is not a park bird. It
will be the test of your power to see how soon you can coax him to your
hand."

"How do I work to win him?"

"I am afraid I can't tell you that," said the Harvester. "I had to
invent a plan for myself. It required a long time and much petting, and
my methods might not avail for you. It will interest you to study that
out. But the member of the family it is positively essential that you
win to a life and death allegiance is Belshazzar. If you can make him
love you, he will protect you at every turn. He will go before you into
the forest and all the crawling, creeping things will get out of his
way. He will nose around the flowers you want to gather, and if he
growls and the hair on the back of his neck rises, never forget that
you must heed that warning. A few times I have not stopped for it, and I
always have been sorry. So far as anything animate or uncertain footing
is concerned, you are always perfectly safe if you obey him. About
touching plants and flowers, you must confine yourself to those you
are certain you know, until I can teach you. There are gorgeous and
wonderfully attractive things here, but some of them are rank poison.
You won't handle plants you don't know, until you learn, Ruth?"

"I will not," she promised instantly.

She went to the seat under the porch tree and leaning against the trunk
she studied the hill, and the rippling course of Singing Water where it
turned and curved before the cabin, and started across the vivid little
marsh toward the lake. Then she looked at the Harvester. He seated
himself on the low railing and smiled at her.

"You are very tired?" he asked.

"No," she said. "You ar