n the heels
of that followed a rending, tearing crash, a thud that sent tremors
through the solid earth under their feet. The girl started.

"Falling gang dropped a big fir," Charlie laughed. "You'll get used to
that. You'll hear it a good many times a day here."

"Good Heavens, it sounded like the end of the world," she said.

"Well, you can't fell a stick of timber two hundred feet high and six or
eight feet through without making a pretty considerable noise," her
brother remarked complacently. "I like that sound myself. Every big tree
that goes down means a bunch of money."

He led the way past the mess-house, from the doorway of which the
aproned cook eyed her with frank curiosity, hailing his employer with
nonchalant air, a cigarette resting in one corner of his mouth. Benton
opened the door of the second building. Stella followed him in.

It had the saving grace of cleanliness--according to logging-camp
standards. But the bareness of it appalled her. There was a rusty box
heater, littered with cigar and cigarette stubs, a desk fabricated of
undressed boards, a homemade chair or two, sundry boxes standing about.
The sole concession to comfort was a rug of cheap Axminster covering
half the floor. The walls were decorated chiefly with miscellaneous
clothing suspended from nails, a few maps and blue prints tacked up
askew. Straight across from the entering door another stood ajar, and
she could see further vistas of bare board wall, small, dusty
window-panes, and a bed whereon gray blankets were tumbled as they fell
when a waking sleeper cast them aside.

Benton crossed the room and threw open another door.

"Here's a nook I fixed up for you, Stella," he said briskly. "It isn't
very fancy, but it's the best I could do just now."

She followed him in silently. He set her two bags on the floor and
turned to go. Then some impulse moved him to turn back, and he put both
hands on her shoulders and kissed her gently.

"You're home, anyway," he said. "That's something, if it isn't what
you're used to. Try to overlook the crudities. We'll have supper as soon
as you feel like it."

He went out, closing the door behind him.

Miss Estella Benton stood in the middle of the room fighting against a
swift heart-sinking, a terrible depression that strove to master her.

"Good Lord in Heaven," she muttered at last. "What a place to be
marooned in. It's--it's simply impossible."

Her gaze roved about the room. A square b