know the dry spots."

"The stage driver has decided not to make another trip till the
October frosts set in."

"But he always has such a heavy load. It will be quite different with
us, you must remember. We'll travel light--just our provisions and a
valise containing our wedding garments."

"What will you do if you get mired twenty miles from a human being?"

"But we won't. I'm a good driver and I haven't nerves--but I have
nerve. Besides, you forget that we'll have an Indian guide with us."

"There was a company of Hudson Bay freighters ambushed and killed
along that very trail by Blackfoot Indians in 1839," said Aunt Jennie
dolefully.

"Fifty years ago! Their ghosts must have ceased to haunt it by this
time," said Kate flippantly.

"Well, you'll get wet through and catch your deaths of cold,"
protested Aunt Jennie.

"No fear of it. We'll be cased in rubber. And we'll borrow a good
tight tent from the M.P.s. Besides, I'm sure it's not going to rain
much more. I know the signs."

"At least wait for a day or two until you're sure that it has cleared
up," implored Aunt Jennie.

"Which being interpreted means, 'Wait for a day or two, because then
your father may be home and he'll squelch your mad expedition,'" said
Kate, with a sly glance at me. "No, no, my mother, your wiles are in
vain. We'll hit the trail tomorrow at sunrise. So just be good,
darling, and help us pack up some provisions. I'll send Jim for his
father's democrat."

Aunt Jennie resigned herself to the inevitable and betook herself to
the pantry with the air of a woman who washes her hands of the
consequences. I flew upstairs to pack some finery. I was wild with
delight over the proposed outing. I did not realize what it actually
meant, and I had perfect confidence in Kate, who was an expert driver,
an experienced camper out, and an excellent manager. If I could have
seen what was ahead of us I would certainly not have been quite so
jubilant and reckless, but I would have gone all the same. I would not
miss the laughter-provoking memories of that trip out of my life for
anything. I have always been glad I went.

* * * * *

We left at sunrise the next morning; there was a sunrise that morning,
for a wonder. The sun came up in a pinky-saffron sky and promised us a
fine day. Aunt Jennie bade us goodbye and, estimable woman that she
was, did not trouble us with advice or forebodings.

Mr. Nash had sent over his