"A sort of cosmetic you apply to the face of Nature," footnoted our
irrepressible friend.

Still another reminded us that "to travel hopefully is a better thing
than to arrive," and still another strongly advised us to carry
revolvers.

So, taking with us our maps and much good advice, we bade farewell to our
friends, and walked back to our camp under the stars--the same stars that
were shining over Constantinople.

The next day, when all our preparations were complete, the shack swept
and garnished, and our knapsacks bulging in readiness for the road, Colin
took his brushes, and in a few minutes had decorated one of the walls
with an Autumn sunset--a sort of memorial tablet to our Summer, he
explained.

"Can't you think up a verse to put underneath?" he asked.

Then underneath he lettered:

_Two lovers of the Sun and of the Moon,
Lovers of Tree and Grass and Bug and Bird,
Spent here the Summer days, then all too soon
Upon the homeward track reluctant fared.

Sun-up, October 1, 1908._

Some apples remained over from our larder. We carefully laid them outside