her face
and hands in Settle's tin basin, but drew the line at his rubber comb.

There was a distinct charm in seeing her thus adapting herself to the
cabin, a charm quite as powerful as that which emanated from Siona
Moore's dainty and theatrical personality. What it was he could not
define, but the forester's daughter had something primeval about her,
something close to the soil, something which aureoles the old Saxon
words--_wife_ and _home_ and _fireplace_. Seeing her through the savory
steam of the bacon she was frying, he forgot her marvelous skill as
horsewoman and pathfinder, and thought of her only as the housewife. She
belonged here, in this cabin. She was fitted to this landscape, whereas
the other woman was alien and dissonant.

He moved his arms about and shook his legs with comical effect of trying
to see if they were still properly hinged. "It's miraculous! I'm not lame
at all. No one can accuse me of being a 'lunger' now. Last night's sleep
has made a new man of me. I've met the forest and it is mine."

She beamed upon him with happy pride. "I'm mighty glad to hear you say
that. I was terribly afraid that long, hard walk in the rain had been too
much for you. I reckon you're all right for the work now."

He recalled, as she spoke, her anguish of pity while they stood in the
darkness of the trail, and it seemed that he could go no farther, and he
said, soberly: "It must have seemed to you one while as if I were all in.
I felt that way myself. I was numb from head to heel. I couldn't have
gone another mile."

Her face clouded with retrospective pain. "You mustn't try any more such
stunts--not for a few weeks, anyway. But get ready for breakfast."

He went out into the morning exultantly, and ran down to the river to
bathe his face and hands, allured by its splendid voice. The world seemed
very bright and beautiful and health-giving once more.

As soon as she was alone with her father, Berrie said: "I'm going home
to-day, dad."

"Going home! What for?"

"I've had enough of it."

He glanced at her bed on the floor. "I can't say I blame you any. This
has been a rough trip; but we'll go up and bring down the outfit, and
then we men can sleep in the tent and let you have the bunk--you'll be
comfortable to-night."

"Oh, I don't mind sleeping on the floor," she replied; "but I want to get
back. I don't want to meet those women. Another thing, you'd better use
Mr. Norcross at the Springs instead of le