descent was made with those girls in
high spirits behind. Indeed, the darker,
rockier, steeper it got, the more they
shrieked from pure joy--but I was anything
than happy. It was dangerous. I
didn't know the cliffs and high rocks
we might skirt and an unlucky guidance
might land us in the creek-bed far down.
But the blessed stars came out, the moon
peered over a farther mountain and on
the last spur there was the gray horse
browsing in the path--and the sound of
running water not far below. Fortunately
on the gray horse were the saddle-bags of
the chattering infants who thought the
whole thing a mighty lark. We reached
the running water, struck a flock of geese
and knew, in consequence, that humanity
was somewhere near. A few turns of the
creek and a beacon light shone below.
The pales of a picket fence, the cheering
outlines of a log-cabin came in view and
at a peaked gate I shouted:

``Hello!''

You enter no mountaineer's yard without
that announcing cry. It was mediaeval,
the Blight said, positively--two lorn
damsels, a benighted knight partially stripped