ve the size of a country school-house, with a jagged opening in
the roof at one side, and with a "back-door" opening that let one out
into a network of clefts and caves. It was cool and quiet in there
when Jack discovered the hiding place, and the wind blowing directly
from the south that day, did not more than whistle pleasantly through
a big fissure somewhere in the roof.

Jack thought it must have been made to order, and hastened down to
their meeting place and told Marion so. And the very next day she
insisted upon meeting him on the ridge beyond Toll-Gate basin and
climbing with him to the cave. As soon as she had breath enough to
talk, she agreed with him as emphatically as her vocabulary and her
flexible voice would permit. Made to order? She should say it was!
Why, it was perfect, and she was just as jealous of him as she could
be. Why, look at the view! And the campfire smoke wouldn't show but
would drift away through all those caves; or if it did show, people
would simply think that a new volcano had bursted loose, and they
would be afraid to climb the peak for fear of getting caught in an
eruption. Even if they did come up, Jack could see them hours before
they got there, and he could hide. And anyway, they never would find
his cave. It was perfect, just like a moonshiner story or something.

Speaking of smoke reminded Jack that he would have to lay in a supply
of wood, which was some distance below the rock crest. Manzanita was
the closest, and that was brushy stuff. He also told Marion gravely
that he must do it before any snow came, or his tracks would be a dead
give-away to the place. He must get all his grubstake in too, and
after snowfall he would have to be mighty careful about making tracks
around any place.

Marion thought that snow on the mountain would be "keen," and
suggested that Jack try a pair of her shoes, and see if he couldn't
manage to wear them whenever there was snow. His feet were very small
for a man's, and hers were--well, not tiny for a woman, and she would
spend so much time hiking around over the hills that a person would
think, of course, she had made the tracks. Being an impulsive young
woman who believed in doing things on the spot, she thereupon retired
behind a corner of rock, and presently threw one of her high-lace
boots out to Jack. It crumpled his toes, but Jack thought he could
wear it if he had to. So that point was settled satisfactorily, and
they went on planning imp