ad, the rest
following as rapidly as possible. The two ahead disappeared, then came
into view beyond the big boulder.

"A house!"

"A cabin!" Every one broke into a run. Just above the bridge a crude dam
of logs had been built to back up a supply of water, and it was running
over from the little pond behind in a happy, babbling waterfall. Then it
turned to the south around the base of a patch of high ground. On this
bit of high country, overlooking the stream on one side and the upper
canyon on the other, stood the loudly-announced cabin.

It was a typical mountain log-house, except for its roof, which was
covered with cedar shingles instead of the customary split poles,
thatched over with marsh hay. Its every line suggested age. In some
places the mud chinking had dried and dropped out, yet, strange to say,
the windows were all there, and even the door, which was of city
manufacture, was not past repair. One corner of the roof had been
slightly damaged by the falling of a monstrous pine log that was still
lying where it had fallen several years before.

The cabin had evidently been used as a summer home only, for there was no
fireplace or a chimney of any kind, except a dilapidated old length of
stovepipe that stuck through the gable at one end. It was this feature
that made it look so completely forlorn and abandoned. Besides the door
and two windows that opened on the trail side, there was a window on
the up end and a door on the stream side which led out onto a crude back
porch, built entirely of aspen poles. The floor was of pine boards, and
had once been a marvel of beauty and convenience for a mountain cabin;
but time had played strange pranks with it, till now it was uneven and
sloped off in a jerky fashion toward the back door. On one wall was
fastened a rude set of shelves, on which was perched a motley collection
of pickle bottles and tin cans. Stretched along one wall stood a crude,
home-made table, and in one corner stood the remains of a little,
old-fashioned stove. A wooden chest stood under the shelves, and had
probably been used for a grub box. It still contained a few pounds of
yellow cornmeal, half a can of baking powder, a badly molded loaf of rye
bread, and a surprisingly sturdy sample of butter. Hung on a nail in the
corner above the chest was a once-stylish skillet and the battered lower
part of a double boiler. A rusty tincup lay on the floor beside a powder
can that had been used for a bucke