"And he knows all the roads, that's something," added Dorothy. "If we
should get lost he could find our way home for us."

"Indeed, he could. I often give him the lines, and he goes along to
the post office, and back again, without the slightest prompting. Here
we are!"

Cologne drew up, not in front of a canvas tent, but beside a fine old
barn.

"Is that the--tent--the camp?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes, but just wait until you see how we have it settled. There's
mother," as Mrs. Markin appeared at the door and extended the most
cordial welcome to Dorothy.

Swinging aside the great old-fashioned door, that opened in two parts,
Cologne ushered Dorothy into the camp.

"Oh, how perfectly splendid!"

It was like a picture from an art magazine. The real rafters--no
boxed-shaped beams set up like an uncovered porch roof--but rafters,
that hung down low, fragrant with the scent of hickory, soft in tint,
and brown with the polish and glow of years. Then the big field stone
fire-place, with the "side walk" all around it, and the pieces of rag
carpet!

"I have never seen anything so perfectly splendid!" chimed Dorothy,