The cedar came next; and, beginning at the foot and laying the twig ends upward, he advanced to the head, a layer at a time, thus successively covering the stub ends and making a soft and level couch. When it was finished, he lay on it, and made some slight adjustments.

[21]

“I’m sorry it’s not a pneumatic—and about the blankets—but I’m afraid it will have to do.”

“It looks beautiful,” she assented, “and I hate pneumatics. I’ll be quite warm enough, I’m sure.”

To make the matter of warmth more certain, he pitched two of the biggest logs on the flames, and then made a rough thatch of the larger boughs over the supports that he had set in position. When he had finished, he stood before her smiling.

“There’s nothing left, I think—but to get to bed. I’m going off for enough firewood to last us until morning. Shall I carry you over now or——”

“Oh, I think I can manage,” she said, her lips dropping demurely. “I did before—while you were away, you know.” She straightened and her brows drew together. “What I’m puzzled about now is about you. Where are you going to sleep?”

“Me? That’s easy. Out here by the fire.”

“Oh!” she said thoughtfully.

[22]

[22]

III VOICES

Dragging his lagging feet, Gallatin struggled on until his task was finished. He took the saucepan and cup to the stream, washed them carefully, and filled them with water. Then he untied the handkerchief from around his neck and washed that, too. When he got back to the fire, he found the girl lying on the couch, her head pillowed on her arm, her eyes gazing into the fire.

“I’ve brought some water. I thought you might like to wash your face,” he said.

“Thanks,” gratefully. “You’re very thoughtful.”

He mended the fire for the night, and waiting until 

 Prev. P 17/298 next