the
matter with a smile.

"We will start at six to-morrow, and endeavor to get down to camp
again on the other side in the afternoon. You will arrange about
provisions."

Weston said that he would do so, but he was not exactly pleased when
he watched the major climb the hillside immediately behind them, with
his glasses, to plot out the route. It seemed very probable that once
he had fixed on one he would adhere to it at any cost, and, perhaps,
the more persistently if the course in question appeared inadvisable
to his companions. Weston did not pretend to be a great judge of
character, but Kinnaird, who, it seemed, had held command in India,
struck him as that kind of man. His wife was a little, placid lady,
whose bodily vigor and any resolution of character she might once have
possessed had apparently evaporated under the Indian sun, and, as far
as Weston had noticed, she invariably agreed with whatever was said.
When he waited on them at supper their talk was of the easier ascents
in Switzerland, and in the mountains of his own land, whose names rang
like music in his ears--the Striding Edge, the Great Gable Needle, and
Saddleback Crags. The Needle was certainly difficult to climb, but the
Striding Edge on a still day was a secure promenade compared with some
of the ledges along which he had seen western prospectors struggle
with a month's supplies.

Supper, which as usual was prepared about six o'clock, had been over
an hour or two, when, after waiting for an opportunity, he found Ida
alone beside the lake.

"Can't you persuade these people not to go, Miss Stirling?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"No," she said, "I think you ought to recognize that."

"Then can't you make some excuse, for stopping behind with Mrs.
Kinnaird?"

"Why?"

Weston made a little gesture.

"It will probably be a tough climb. I'd rather you didn't go."

Dusk was creeping up the hillside, but there was still a little light
among the misty pines, and the girl flashed a quick glance at him. He
seemed diffident, but it was evident that he did not wish her to go,
and once more she felt that he aroused her curiosity.

"That," she observed, "is not exactly an answer. Why should I stay
below?"

Weston was relieved at this, for it seemed preferable to him that she
should be the one to raise the personal side of the question.

"Well," he said, "for one thing my employer is your father."

It occurred to the girl that the qualificati