ce of his chief calling: "_All out!
All out! Daylight down the creek!_" Breathing a prayer of thankfulness,
the boy sat up and looked about him. "The long night is over at last, and
I am alive!" he said, and congratulated himself.

He drew on his shoes and, stiff and shivering, stood about in helpless
misery, while McFarlane kicked the scattered, charred logs together, and
fanned the embers into a blaze with his hat. It was heartening to see the
flames leap up, flinging wide their gorgeous banners of heat and light,
and in their glow the tenderfoot ranger rapidly recovered his courage,
though his teeth still chattered and the forest was dark.

"How did you sleep?" asked the Supervisor.

"First rate--at least during the latter part of the night," Wayland
briskly lied.

"That's good. I was afraid that Adirondack bed of yours might let the
white wolf in."

"My blankets did seem a trifle thin," confessed Norcross.

"It don't pay to sleep cold," the Supervisor went on. "A man wants to
wake up refreshed, not tired out with fighting the night wind and frost.
I always carry a good bed."

It was instructive to see how quietly and methodically the old
mountaineer went about his task of getting the breakfast. First he cut
and laid a couple of eight-inch logs on either side of the fire, so that
the wind drew through them properly, then placing his dutch-oven cover on
the fire, he laid the bottom part where the flames touched it. Next he
filled his coffee-pot with water, and set it on the coals. From his
pannier he took his dishes and the flour and salt and pepper, arranging
them all within reach, and at last laid some slices of bacon in the
skillet.

At this stage of the work a smothered cry, half yawn, half complaint,
came from the tent. "Oh, hum! Is it morning?" inquired Berrie.

"Morning!" replied her father. "It's going toward noon. You get up or
you'll have no breakfast."

Thereupon Wayland called: "Can I get you anything, Miss Berrie? Would you
like some warm water?"

"What for?" interposed McFarlane, before the girl could reply.

"To bathe in," replied the youth.

"To bathe in! If a daughter of mine should ask for warm water to wash
with I'd throw her in the creek."

Berrie chuckled. "Sometimes I think daddy has no feeling for me. I reckon
he thinks I'm a boy."

"Hot water is debilitating, and very bad for the complexion," retorted
her father. "Ice-cold water is what you need. And if you don't get out o'