ing in a supply of
down-wood.

As on the day of the rodeo, she was attired in trim khaki riding breeches
and high-heeled moccasin boots,--good on horseback but mighty hard to
walk in, where the ground was rough. Her bobbed curly hair, red silk
blouse and fringed sash added a touch of the Rosa that underlay her
gritty side. She would surprise Radcliffe with her ability to cook for a
fire crew.

The huge loaf safely ensconced in a Dutch oven buried in red coals, she
sallied forth on a little exploring expedition. She wished she might find
some fir sugar to cap the feast. She had, once, when camping in the
Thompson River Valley. She had found the delectable sweet on a Douglas
fir. Some of the dry white masses had been all of two inches long, though
most of it had been in the form of mere white drops at the tips of the
needles. There had also been a quantity of it in a semi-liquid condition
on the ground underneath the tree, where some rain had dissolved it from
the branches.

Just where should she search? The Indians had told her that time to look
on the dry Eastern slopes of the range, in open areas where the trees got
lots of sunlight, but where the ground has not dried out too quickly
after the spring rains, as moisture is necessary as well as
sunlight,--(so long as it does not rain and melt off this excess of the
tree's digested starch). She had a hunch that she could find some on the
desert side of the Sierras, that being, of course, unattainable--unless
Ace could take her over in his 'plane. It would do no harm to look on
this side.

Neither did it do any good. She returned to camp empty-handed save for
some cones of the sugar pine, which she proceeded to roast that the nuts
might fall out of the spiny masses.

She found the deserted camp over-run with chipmunks. The little striped
rascals had ravaged all the food supplies they could nibble into. She
watched a couple of them actually shoving on the tin lid that she had
left insecurely loose on the syrup can. Finally sending it clattering to
the stony ground,--as she watched from behind two trees that grew close
together,--the wee things sat up there on the edge of the can, dipping
out its contents with their hand-like paws and licking them. Then one
tried to reach down and drink it outright, at which he fell in, and Rosa
felt impelled to fish him out and launder him,--to his terror,--before
turning him loose, then put the syrup on the fire to sterilize.

Mean