ipate her slightest want; he jumped to his feet and brought her a
cup of water; he shoved aside a burning branch which rolled impudently
too near the divine foot; he removed the offending fish from under her
nostrils hastily and half apologetically; he piled the fire high when he
saw her shiver. And finally when she pushed her cup away and let her two
hands drop into her lap he gathered the dishes and carried them away to
the nearest pool to wash them, leaving Gloria silent and thoughtful,
brooding over his fire.

When he came back to her in the hush of the first hour of night, he
thought that he understood her need for silence, and spoke only
infrequently and briefly, and very, very softly, calling her attention
now to the last lingering light upon the piney ridge behind them or to
the liquid music of the creek, which, with the coming of night, seemed
to grow clearer and finer and sweeter, or finally to the big star
burning gloriously in the perfect deep-blue sky.

"And now," he said, taking up his short-handled axe, "I am going to make
for my lady-love the finest couch for tranquil, restful sleep that
mortal ever had."

As he strode away toward a grove of firs he was lost to her eyes before
he had gone a hundred paces. The night came so swiftly it seemed to her
feverish fancies that in the dark the big tree trunks were huddling
closer together. In a moment she heard the sound of his axe, striking
softly through green juicy branches. He worked swiftly, grudging every
minute away from her. And then, with his arms full of the fragrant,
balsamy boughs, he stopped and let them slip down to the ground and
himself sat down upon a log and filled his pipe with slow fingers. He'd
force himself to smoke one pipe before he went back to her, thinking
that she would be grateful for a few moments alone.

Almost with the first puff of smoke there came to him Gloria's piercing
scream. His heart stopping, he jumped up and ran through the trees to
her, shouting: "Gloria I Gloria! I'm coming. What is it?"

Gloria was cowering against the nearest tree, her face showing
frightened in the firelight, her eyes wide with nervous horror.

"There is something there ... in the bushes!" she cried excitedly. "I
heard it moving...."

He looked where she pointed. Down by the creek, just waddling back into
the alders, was a fat old porcupine, dimly seen in the fringe of the
camp-fire. But King did not laugh. His first impulse upon him,
strengt