ed.
You'll be more comfortable."

Thus peremptorily commanded, Hazel found herself granting instant
obedience. The bed, as Bill had remarked, was far more comfortable
than sitting by the fire. She got into the blankets just as she stood,
even to her shoes, and drew the canvas sheet up so that it hid her
face--but did not prevent her from seeing.

In spite of herself, she slept fitfully. Now and then she would wake
with a start to a half-frightened realization of her surroundings and
plight, and whenever she did wake and look past the fire it was to see
Roaring Bill Wagstaff stretched out in the red glow, his brown head
pillowed on one folded arm. Once she saw him reach to the wood without
moving his body and lay a stick on the fire.

Then all at once she wakened out of sound slumber with a violent start.
Roaring Bill was shaking the tarpaulin over her and laughing.

"Arise, Miss Sleeping Beauty!" he said boyishly. "Breakfast's ready."

He went back to the fire. Hazel sat up, patting her tousled hair into
some semblance of order. Off in the east a reddish streak spread
skyward into somber gray. In the west, black night gave ground slowly.

"Well, it's another day," she whispered, as she had whispered to
herself once before. "I wonder if there will ever be any more like it?"

CHAPTER VIII

IN DEEP WATER

The dawn thrust aside night's somber curtains while they ate, revealing
a sky overcast with slaty clouds. What with her wanderings of the
night before and the journey through the dark with Roaring Bill, she
had absolutely no idea of either direction or locality. The infolding
timber shut off the outlook. Forest-clad heights upreared here and
there, but no landmark that she could place and use for a guide. She
could not guess whether Cariboo Meadows was a mile distant, or ten, nor
in what direction it might lie. If she had not done so before, she now
understood how much she had to depend on Roaring Bill Wagstaff.

"Do you suppose I can get home in time to open school?" she inquired
anxiously.

Roaring Bill smiled. "I don't know," he answered. "It all depends."

Upon what it depended he did not specify, but busied himself packing
up. In half an hour or less they were ready to start. Bill spent a
few minutes longer shortening the stirrups, then signified that she
should mount. He seemed more thoughtful, less inclined to speech.

"You know where you are now, don't you?" she asked.

"N