y obediently and smiling.

"And now, we'll go over," she said, when everything was in place again.
"Get me my long blue cape, Francis, please. It's hanging against the
door in my room."

He came and wrapped her in it, and crossed with her the space between
the two cabins.

"They're up yet," he said, and knocked on the door.

CHAPTER VIII

There was nothing surprising or exciting to behold when the door flew
open, and the two entered.

"Oh, I've met you before," said Marjorie politely to the man who had
opened it. She had danced with him the night before, and it was
pleasant to find that she had not to deal entirely with strangers. He
was a tired-looking, middle-aged Englishman, with a tanned, plump face
that had something whimsical and what Marjorie characterized to herself
as motherly about it. And the fact that he was clad in a flannel shirt
and very disreputable overalls did not make him the less distinctively
gentle-bred. He greeted her courteously, and took out his pipe--a pipe
that was even more disreputable than his clothes.

"Mrs. Ellison wanted to come over to-night and see what she had to do,"
Francis explained.

"You mean that you were in earnest about her volunteering to take
Pierre's place?" demanded the Englishman, looking at the little smiling
figure in pink organdy.

"I know I look useless," interposed Marjorie for herself. "But Mr.
Ellison will tell you that I really can work hard. If somebody will
only show me a little about the routine I'll be all right."

"I've taken over Pierre's job for the moment," he replied. "Assuredly
I'll show you all I can. But it's rough work for a girl."

Marjorie smiled on.

"Very well, show me, please," she demanded, as she would if the
question had been one of walking over red-hot plowshares.

She stood and looked about her as he answered her, so intent that she
did not hear what he replied.

The place had rows of bunks in various stages of untidiness. It was
lighted by two very smoky kerosene lamps, and had in its middle a table
with cards on it. Three men sat about the table, as if they did not
quite know whether to come forward and be included in the conversation
or not. At the further end Marjorie could see the door that led to the
cooking-place, and eyed it with interest.

"These are all of the men who are here," Francis explained. "There is
another camp some miles further in the forest."

"Am I to cook for them as well?" dema