it."

We got away. The sulky Amelia had vanished, and there was nobody to
see us off except Mrs. Matilda Pitman.

"Don't forget to call the next time you come this way," she said
cheerfully, waving her knitting at us. "I hope you'll get safe to
Bothwell. If I was ten years younger I vow I'd pack a grip and go
along with you. I like your spunk. Most of the girls nowadays is such
timid, skeery critters. When I was a girl I wasn't afraid of nothing
or nobody."

We said and did nothing until we had driven out of sight and earshot.
Then Kate laid down the reins and laughed until the tears came.

"Oh, Phil, Phil, will you ever forget this adventure?" she gasped.

"I shall never forget Mrs. Matilda Pitman," I said emphatically.

We had no further adventures that day. Robert Chapman had fixed the
tongue so well--probably under Mrs. Matilda Pitman's watchful
eyes--that we could drive as fast as we liked; and we made good
progress. But when we pitched camp that night Kate scanned the sky
with an anxious expression. "I don't like the look of it," she said.
"I'm afraid we're going to have a bad day tomorrow."

* * * * *

We had. When we awakened in the morning rain was pouring down. This in
itself might not have prevented us from travelling, but the state of
the trail did. It had been raining the greater part of the night and
the trail was little more than a ditch of slimy, greasy, sticky mud.

If we could have stayed in the tent the whole time it would not have
been quite so bad. But we had to go out twice to take the ponies to
the nearest pond and water them; moreover, we had to collect pea vines
for them, which was not an agreeable occupation in a pouring rain. The
day was very cold too, but fortunately there was plenty of dead poplar
right by our camp. We kept a good fire on in the camp stove and were
quite dry and comfortable as long as we stayed inside. Even when we
had to go out we did not get very wet, as we were well protected. But
it was a long dreary day. Finally when the dark came down and supper
was over Kate grew quite desperate. "Let's have a game of checkers,"
she suggested.

"Where is your checkerboard?" I asked.

"Oh, I'll soon furnish that," said Kate.

She cut out a square of brown paper, in which a biscuit box had been
wrapped, and marked squares off on it with a pencil. Then she produced
some red and white high-bush cranberries for men. A cranberry split in
two wa