. Perhaps
she had been foolish in attempting this passage without the aid of a
stick. A stick, which could be shoved against the gravel below that
blue water, would have been a very practical aid. Suddenly, the
waverings of the mind were transmuted to the body. She felt an
impetuous desire to fall upstream, which she resisted so successfully
that she promptly fell down stream. The water was deeper than it
looked, and colder than it looked, and when she scrambled up the
farther bank she was a very wet young woman indeed. She was conscious
of a deep annoyance toward young Elden. A fine bridge, that! She
would tell him--but this thought died at its birth with the
consciousness that Elden would be amused over the incident, and would
be at little pains to disguise his merriment. And then she laughed,
and ran along up the road.

The grips were duly found, and Irene congratulated herself that she and
her father were in the habit of traveling with equipment for over
night. She had even a spare skirt along, with which she was able to
disguise her mishap at the stream, although she took the precaution not
to make the change until she was safe back over the narrow bridge. And
this time she used a stick. Arrived at the house, she deftly wrapped a
bandage about her father's injury, and set to work at the preparation
of supper--a task not strange to her, as her mother considered it
correct that her daughter should have a working knowledge of kitchen
affairs. Her equipment was meagre, and she spent more time scouring
than cooking, but her heart beat high with the spirit of adventure.

Once, during the evening, she took a glance into the other room. It
was even less inviting than Dave's, with walls bare of any adornment,
save dirty garments that hung from nails driven in the logs. On the
rude bed lay an old man; she could see only part of his face; a grey
moustache drooping over an open mouth, and a florid cheek turned to the
glow of the setting sun. On a chair beside the bed sat a bottle, and
the room reeked with the smell of breath charged with alcohol. She
gently closed the door, and busied herself through the long evening
with reforms in the kitchen, and with little ministrations designed to
relieve the sufferings of her father.

The sun sank behind the Rockies, and a darkness, soft and mystical and
silent, stole up the valley, hushing even the noiseless day. Presently
the glow of the rising moon burst in ruddy