shadow tracery over the wakening world.

The girl by the river caught a fish, deftly strung it on a willow shoot
beside some others and bathed her hands in the river. Turning she
smiled and waved. Philip went to meet her.

"Let me take your fish," he offered.

"Your arm--" began Diane,

"Pshaw!" insisted Philip. "It's ever so much better. I can even use
my hand."

To prove it, Philip presently armed himself with a fork and developed
considerable helpful interest in a pan of fish. Whereupon a general
atmosphere of industry settled over the camp. Rex and Nero
acrobatically locked forepaws and rolled over and over in a clownish
excess of congeniality. Johnny trotted busily about feeding the
horses. Diane made the coffee, arousing the frank and guileless
interest of Mr. Poynter.

The fish began to sizzle violently. Considerably aggrieved by a
variety of unexpected developments in the pan, Philip harpooned the
smoking segments with indignant vim, burned his fingers, made reckless
use of the wounded arm and regretfully resigned the task to Johnny who
furtively bestowed certain hot sable portions of the rescued fish upon
the dogs, thereby arousing a snarling commotion of intense surprise.

"That's a wonderful bed of mine," commented Philip at breakfast. "Tell
me where in the world did you get your camp equipment?"