"What is your opinion?" asked Sheppard, as the teamster paused.

"Wal, the valley below Pitt is full of renegades, outlaws an'
hoss-thieves. The redskins ain't so bad as they used to be, but these
white fellers are wusser'n ever. This guide Jenks might be in with
them, that's all. Mebbe I'm wrong. I hope so. The way he left us
looks bad."

"We won't borrow trouble. If we have come all this way without seeing
either Indian or outlaw--in fact, without incident--I feel certain we
can perform the remainder of the journey in safety." Then Mr. Sheppard
raised his voice. "Here, Helen, you lazy girl, come out of that wagon.
We want some supper. Will, you gather some firewood, and we'll soon
give this gloomy little glen a more cheerful aspect."

As Mr. Sheppard turned toward the canvas-covered wagon a girl leaped
lightly down beside him. She was nearly as tall as he.

"Is this Fort Henry?" she asked, cheerily, beginning to dance around
him. "Where's the inn? I'm _so_ hungry. How glad I am to get out of
that wagon! I'd like to run. Isn't this a lonesome, lovely spot?"

A camp-fire soon crackled with hiss and sputter, and fragrant
wood-smoke filled the air. Steaming kettle, and savory steaks of
venison cheered the hungry travelers, making them forget for the time
the desertion of their guide and the fact that they might be lost. The
last glow faded entirely out of the western sky. Night enveloped the
forest, and the little glade was a bright spot in the gloom.

The flickering light showed Mr. Sheppard to be a well-preserved old