his friend for once and pronounced the last word so that Ross wrote
"John Carew" without hesitation. And Jack Corey, glancing down as the
supervisor wrote, stifled a smile of satisfaction.

"It happens to be the day when we usually send up supplies," said Ross
when he had finished recording the fact of Jack's employment as
fireman. "Our man hasn't started yet, and you can go up with him. Come
back here in an hour, can you? There'll be a saddle horse for you.
Don't try to take too much baggage. Suitcase, maybe. You can phone
down for anything you need that you haven't got with you, you know. It
will go up next trip. Clothes and grub and tobacco and such as
that--use your own judgment, and common sense."

"All right. Er--thank you, sir." Jack blushed a bit over the
unaccustomed courtesy of his tone, and turned into the outer office.

"Oh--Carew! Don't fall into the fool habit of throwing rocks down into
the lake just to see them bounce! One fellow did that, and came near
getting a tourist. You'll have to be careful."

"I certainly will, Mr. Ross."

The other two men gave him a friendly nod, and Jack went out of the
office feeling almost as cheerful as he had tried to appear.




CHAPTER FIVE