ed not very
patiently for hot ashes. The eggs were rolled up in large grape leaves,
and fastened with little twigs. The sun went down, and the fire-light
began to shine brightly on the overhanging boughs and the watchful faces
of the children. Finally Kitty said it must be time, and proceeded to
push away the blazing brands, and to roll the eggs in among the glowing
ashes. She had just covered them, after a fashion, with the stick she
used for a poker, and was saying to Ted they would soon be done, when
something came crashing along through the brush, and there was a man
with a scratched face and a torn coat, and a gun on his shoulder,
standing before them.

"Oh, papa," said Ted, after taking a second look at him, "mayn't we stay
until the pattridge eggs are done? 'Cause we're so hungry."

"Oh, you--rascals," was all the father could say; and he was either very
tired, or else Kitty rushed upon him and hugged his knees too
vigorously, for he sank right down on the ground, and commenced wiping
his face, and his eyes seemed to need a great deal of wiping.

"We didn't mean to camp out, papa," said Kitty, softly. "We only wanted
to go home the nearest way, and we couldn't find it at all; and so when
we found we were lost a little bit, we staid right where we were, so's
not to get any more lost. Wasn't that right, papa? We knew you'd find
us."

"Yes, an' we knew _you_ wouldn't come hollerin' round like crazy Ingins.
An' isn't the eggs done, Kit?" said Ted.

"Here's things to eat--things grandma fixed for you;" and the father
quickly opened a little bundle that hung at his side. "I was so glad to
see you alive, and having a good time, that I almost forgot your lunch,
you poor Hottentots."

The lunch was quickly disposed of, and after drinking two swallows
apiece of blackberry wine--which grandma sent word they must do--the
children "broke camp," and started for home, carrying the eggs in a
handkerchief.

"It was a good thing you started your fire, little folks. I was just
going to give up the mountain, and follow the others down to the creek,
when I saw a smoke curling up, and I remembered your weakness for
bonfires, and so-- Why, bless me! I've forgotten the signal." And the
happy father took his repeating rifle from his shoulder, and fired three
shots into the air.

Pop!--pop!--pop! That meant, "Found, and alive, and well." Three or four
guns answered from the valley below; and the mother and grandma, waiting
and