ismal howl wafted along the river course, supplemented
by the short, snappy yelps of half a dozen coyotes. The interruption was
ended and the man of the house again lapsed into speculation.

"Who would believe that Jack Sheppard would be here alone with that
Indian girl in the middle of January, over a thousand miles from his
home, where are velvet carpets and feather beds for old folks, eiderdown
quilts for his sisters and probably a good hair mattress and blankets
for the butler?"

Knocking the ashes from his pipe and placing that article of luxury
safely in an Indian-beaded buckskin tobacco pouch, he drew one foot up
and clasped his hands over the greasy overalled knee, resting his back
against one of the log "divans" which go to make up every camp, even be
they temporary ones. He had divested himself of his outer coat and
relied upon the heavy buckskin shirt and the camp fire for protection
from the cold. Long strings, demanded by frontier fashion, dangled idly
from the sleeves and yoke of the garment. As he silently contemplated
his wardrobe he gave an additional sigh and wondered, almost aloud:

"I suppose these will have to give way to a 'biled' shirt, tailor-made
clothes and white collar, to say nothing of getting a haircut
regularly."

This last "think" made Jack unclasp his hands rather hastily, but having
assured himself that his hair was still intact, he gave vent to more
soliloquy.

"If I were to walk into that Sunday-school class of mine, of
ten-year-olds, in this rig, I wonder if the shorter catechism would
stand any show?"

With a smile he proceeded to throw on a couple more logs, refresh
himself with a drink of water and, having divested himself of his boots,
using a saddle and coat for a pillow, he pulled the blankets around
himself and was soon fast asleep.

[Illustration: THE CAMP IN THE WILLOWS.]

He was awakened by snorts of all three ponies. The fire had burned out
with the exception of a bed of coals glowing in the deep black night.
The "watchdogs" of the camp had crowded up to the lengths of their
picket ropes, getting as near each other as they could. Jack slowly
raised himself to a sitting position and listened attentively. Peering
out through the willows he could see, by the restive tugging of the
ponies at their fastenings with the pricking of their ears toward the
high precipice, that the cause for alarm did not come from inside the
canon. Cautiously putting on a pair of moccasins