towering rocks, to tip the pines.

Madeline, with the hounds beside her, walked through the nearest grove.
The ground was soft and springy and brown with pine-needles. Then
she saw that a clump of trees had prevented her from seeing the most
striking part of this natural park. The cowboys had selected a campsite
where they would have the morning sun and afternoon shade. Several
tents and flies were already up; there was a huge lean-to made of spruce
boughs; cowboys were busy round several camp-fires; piles of packs lay
covered with tarpaulins, and beds were rolled up under the trees. This
space was a kind of rolling meadow, with isolated trees here and there,
and other trees in aisles and circles; and it mounted up in low, grassy
banks to great towers of stone five hundred feet high. Other crags rose
behind these. From under a mossy cliff, huge and green and cool, bubbled
a full, clear spring. Wild flowers fringed its banks. Out in the meadow
the horses were knee-deep in grass that waved in the morning breeze.

Florence espied Madeline under the trees and came running. She was like
a young girl, with life and color and joy. She wore a flannel blouse,
corduroy skirt, and moccasins. And her hair was fastened under a band
like an Indian's.

"Castleton's gone with a gun, for hours, it seems," said Florence.
"Gene just went to hunt him up. The other gentlemen are still asleep. I
imagine they sure will sleep up heah in this air."

Then, business-like, Florence fell to questioning Madeline about details
of camp arrangement which Stewart, and Florence herself, could hardly
see to without suggestion.

Before any of Madeline's sleepy guests awakened the camp was completed.
Madeline and Florence had a tent under a pine-tree, but they did not
intend to sleep in it except during stormy weather. They spread a
tarpaulin, made their bed on it, and elected to sleep under the light
of the stars. After that, taking the hounds with them, they explored. To
Madeline's surprise, the park was not a little half-mile nook nestling
among the crags, but extended farther than they cared to walk, and was
rather a series of parks. They were no more than small valleys between
gray-toothed peaks. As the day advanced the charm of the place grew upon
Madeline. Even at noon, with the sun beating down, there was comfortable
warmth rather than heat. It was the kind of warmth that Madeline liked
to feel in the spring. And the sweet, thin, rare atmosphere