athered up her belongings. "But we're friends?"

"_No! No!_" said Jeff vehemently. "You won't sing it to any one
else--Ellinor?"

She drew a line in the dust.

"If you won't cross that line," she said, "I'll tell you."

Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try
its strength.

"A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God," he announced. "I'll
take a chance."

Her eyes were shining.

"You've promised!" she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice
was low and a trifle unsteady. "I won't sing about Sandy to--any one
else--Jeff!"

Then she fled.

Like Lot's wife, she looked back from the hillside. Jeff clung
desperately to the sapling with one hand; from the other a
handkerchief--hers--fluttered a good-by message. She threw him
a farewell, with an ambiguous gesture.

* * * * *

It was late when Jeff reached Rosebud Camp. He unsaddled Nigger Baby,
the little and not entirely gentle black horse, rather unobtrusively;
but Johnny Dines sauntered out during the process, announcing supper.

"Huh!" sniffed Jeff. "S'pose I thought you'd wait until I come to get
it?"

Nothing more alarming than tallies was broached during supper, however.
Afterward, Johnny tilted his chair back and, through cigarette smoke,
contemplated the ceiling with innocent eyes.

"Nigger Babe looks drawed," he suggested.

"Uh-huh. Had one of them poor spells of his."

Puff, puff.

"Your saddle's skinned up a heap."

"Run under a tree."

Johnny's look of innocence grew more pronounced.

"How'd you get your clothes so wet?"

"Rain," said Jeff.

Puff, puff.

"You look right muddy too."

"Dust in the air," said Jeff.

"Ah!--yes." Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then:
"How'd you get that cut on your head?"

Jeff's hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his
fingers in some perplexity.

"That? Oh, that's where I bit myself!" He stalked off to bed in gloomy
dignity.

Half an hour later Johnny called softly:

"Jeff!"

Jeff grunted sulkily.

"Camping party down near Mayhill. Lot o' girls. I saw one of 'em. Young
person with eyes and hair."

Jeff grunted again. There was a long silence.

"Nice bear!" There was no answer.

"_Good_ old bear!" said Johnny tearfully. No answer. "Mister Bear, if I
give you one nice, good, juicy bite----"

"_U--ugg--rrh!_" said Jeff.

"Then," said Johnny decidedly, "I'll sleep in the yar