lored and almost hidden from sight by the long grass. These all
ran one way, and united to form a deeper brook that apparently wound
under the cliffs at the west end, and plunged to an outlet in narrow
clefts. When Dale and Bo came to her once she made inquiry, and she was
surprised to learn from Dale that this brook disappeared in a hole in
the rocks and had an outlet on the other side of the mountain. Sometime
he would take them to the lake it formed.

"Over the mountain?" asked Helen, again remembering that she must regard
herself as a fugitive. "Will it be safe to leave our hiding-place? I
forget so often why we are here."

"We would be better hidden over there than here," replied Dale. "The
valley on that side is accessible only from that ridge. An' don't worry
about bein' found. I told you Roy Beeman is watchin' Anson an' his gang.
Roy will keep between them an' us."

Helen was reassured, yet there must always linger in the background of
her mind a sense of dread. In spite of this, she determined to make the
most of her opportunity. Bo was a stimulus. And so Helen spent the rest
of that day riding and tagging after her sister.

The next day was less hard on Helen. Activity, rest, eating, and
sleeping took on a wonderful new meaning to her. She had really never
known them as strange joys. She rode, she walked, she climbed a little,
she dozed under her pine-tree, she worked helping Dale at camp-fire
tasks, and when night came she said she did not know herself. That fact
haunted her in vague, deep dreams. Upon awakening she forgot her resolve
to study herself. That day passed. And then several more went swiftly
before she adapted herself to a situation she had reason to believe
might last for weeks and even months.

It was afternoon that Helen loved best of all the time of the day.
The sunrise was fresh, beautiful; the morning was windy, fragrant; the
sunset was rosy, glorious; the twilight was sad, changing; and night
seemed infinitely sweet with its stars and silence and sleep. But the
afternoon, when nothing changed, when all was serene, when time seemed
to halt, that was her choice, and her solace.

One afternoon she had camp all to herself. Bo was riding. Dale had
climbed the mountain to see if he could find any trace of tracks or see
any smoke from camp-fire. Bud was nowhere to be seen, nor any of the
other pets. Tom had gone off to some sunny ledge where he could bask in
the sun, after the habit of the