omebody meant to pull
out before we broke camp."

Jim nodded. "The fellow said he'd made a cache. You're very smart.
But why didn't you tell Jake?"

"I suppose I ought to have told him," Carrie replied.

He mused for a few moments and then broke out: "We have taken you for
granted. When a thing needs doing you don't talk, but get to work.
Perhaps this has drawbacks; it doesn't always strike one how fine you
really are."

Carrie said nothing, and he went on. "Now I come to think of it, I've
been strangely dull. You have cooked for us, and cared for us in ways
we didn't know. I'd sometimes a notion my clothes were wearing longer
than they ought--there was a jacket I meant to mend and when I got it
out one evening I couldn't find the hole." He paused and spread out
his hands. "Well, that's the kind of fool I am and the kind of girl
you are!"

"The hole had bothered me for a long time. It was getting bigger and
one doesn't like untidiness."

"I've been very dull, but so has Jake," Jim declared. "I saw a neat
patch on his overalls and thought he'd made a better job than he
generally does when he starts sewing. I imagine he doesn't know how
that patch got there."

"I don't think he knows there is a patch," Carrie rejoined.

"It's possible," Jim agreed, and studied her, for the moon was bright.
Her plain dress was very neat and seemed to have stood rough wear well.
Besides, it was remarkably becoming; Carrie was tall and graceful. In
fact, she was prettier than he had thought.

"The way you keep your clothes is rather wonderful," he went on. "One
never sees you untidy; all you wear looks just as it ought to look.
One feels it wouldn't look half as well if it was worn by anybody else.
Yet you're generally occupied and your work's not clean. I can't touch
a cooking pot without getting black, and Jake gets blacker."

Carrie laughed to hide a touch of embarrassment. Jim was not trying to
flatter; she saw he was naively following a new line of thought.

"Well, we must get back to camp," she said. "Can you walk?"

Jim got up quickly and gave her a suspicious glance. "I can walk to
camp. I ought to have gone right off and sent the boys after that
chopper. Looks as if you meant to keep me."

"I did mean to keep you. Let him go, Jim. He won't come back, and we
have had trouble enough."

"He has not had much trouble," Jim rejoined. "However, I doubt if we
could catch him, and I want the boys to mo