rees. Water-robins fluttered from rock to rock in the foaming
flood. Squirrels and minute chipmunks raced across the fallen tree-trunks
or clattered from great boulders, and in the peace and order and beauty
of the forest they all recovered a serener outlook on the noisome tumult
they were leaving behind them. Invisible as well as inaudible, the
serpent of slander lost its terror.

Once, as they paused to rest the horses, Wayland said: "It is hard to
realize that down in that ethereal valley people like old Jake and Mrs.
Belden have their dwelling-place."

This moved Mrs. McFarlane to admit that it might all turn out a blessing
in disguise. "Mr. McFarlane may resign and move to Denver, as I've long
wanted him to do."

"I wish he would," exclaimed Berrie, fervently. "It's time you had a
rest. Daddy will hate to quit under fire, but he'd better do it."

Peak by peak the Bear Tooth Range rose behind them, while before them the
smooth, grassy slopes of the pass told that they were nearing
timber-line. The air was chill, the sun was hidden by old Solidor, and
the stream had diminished to a silent rill winding among sear grass and
yellowed willows. The valley behind them was vague with mist. The
southern boundary of the forest was in sight.

At last the topmost looming crags of the Continental Divide cut the
sky-line, and then in the smooth hollow between two rounded grassy
summits Berrie halted, and they all silently contemplated the two worlds.
To the west and north lay an endless spread of mountains, wave on wave,
snow-lined, savage, sullen in the dying light; while to the east and
southeast the foot-hills faded into the plain, whose dim cities,
insubstantial as flecks in a veil of violet mist, were hardly
distinguishable without the aid of glasses.

To the girl there was something splendid, something heroical in that
majestic, menacing landscape to the west. In one of its folds she had
begun her life. In another she had grown to womanhood and self-confident
power. The rough men, the coarse, ungainly women of that land seemed less
hateful now that she was leaving them, perhaps forever, and a confused
memory of the many splendid dawns and purple sunsets she had loved filled
her thought.

Wayland, divining some part of what was moving in her mind, cheerily
remarked, "Yes, it's a splendid place for a summer vacation, but a stern
place in winter-time, and for a lifelong residence it is not inspiring."

Mrs. McFarlane