Skyline Meadow he ran, jumping the small beginning
of Wilder Creek with one great leap that scarcely interrupted the
beautiful rhythm of his stride. At the far end of the clearing,
snuggled between two great pines that reached high into the blue, his
squatty cabin showed red-brown against the precipitous shoulder of Bear
Top peak, covered thick with brush and scraggy timber whipped
incessantly by the wind that blew over the mountain's crest.

At the door Swan stopped and examined the crude fastening of the door;
made himself certain, by private marks of his own, that none had
entered in his absence, and went in with a great sigh of satisfaction.
It was still broad daylight, though the sun's rays slanted in through
the window; but Swan lighted a lantern that hung on a nail behind the
door, carried it across the neat little room, and set it down on the
floor beside the usual pioneer cupboard made simply of clean boxes
nailed bottom against the wall. Swan had furnished a few extra frills
to his cupboard, for the ends of the boxes were fastened to hewn slabs
standing upright and just clearing the floor. Near the upper shelf a
row of nails held Swan's coffee cups,--four of them, thick and white,
such as cheap restaurants use.

Swan hooked a finger over the nail that held a cracked cup and glanced
over his shoulder at Jack, sitting in the doorway with his keen nose to
the world.

"You watch out now, Yack. I shall talk to my mother with my thoughts,"
he said, drawing a hand across his forehead and speaking in breathless
gasps. "You watch."

For answer Jack thumped his tail on the dirt floor and sniffed the
breeze, taking in his overlapping tongue while he did so. He licked
his lips, looked over his shoulder at Swan, and draped his pink tongue
down over his lower jaw again.

"All right, now I talk," said Swan and pulled upon the nail in his
fingers.

The cupboard swung toward him bodily, end slabs and all. He picked up
the lantern, stepped over the log sill and pulled the cupboard door
into place again.

Inside the dugout Swan set the lantern on a table, dropped wearily upon
a rough bench before it and looked at the jars beside him, lifted his
hand and opened a compact, but thoroughly efficient field wireless
"set." His right fingers dropped to the key, and the whining drone of
the wireless rose higher and higher as he tuned up. He reached for his
receivers, ducked his head and adjusted them with one hand, and