She seized it and ran like an antelope--with the same _gliding_
motion--to a tree about thirty paces distant, on which she pinned the
bit of paper. They shot. Bennington hit the paper every time. The girl
missed it once. At this she looked a little vexed.

"You are either very rude or very sincere," was her comment.

"You're the best shot I ever saw----"

"Now don't dare say 'for a girl!'" she interrupted quickly. "What's the
prize?"

"Was this a match?"

"Of course it was, and I insist on paying up."

Bennington considered.

"I think I would like to go to the top of the rock there, and see the
pines, and the skull-stones, and the prairies."

She glanced toward him, knitting her brows. "It is my very own," she
said doubtfully. "I've never let anybody go up there before."

One of the diminutive chipmunks of the hills scampered out from a cleft
in the rocks and perched on a moss-covered log, chattering eagerly and
jerking his tail in the well-known manner of chipmunks.

"Oh, see! see!" she cried, all excitement in a moment. She seized the