"Did you live among them in America?" asked Avelyn.
"Yes, our ranch was out in British Columbia, close to the edge of the forest. At one time Daddy had lumbering business there, and we spent the summer at a log shanty right up on the mountain. It was glorious, and I loved it, but it was very lonely. Daddy used to be out all day, looking after the timber, and Mother and I would be left by ourselves until evening. Sometimes we didn't see anyone except our own family for weeks and weeks."
"Were you frightened?"
"Only once, and then we really had an adventure. I was more scared when it was over than at the time."
"Do tell us about it!" pleaded Avelyn.
Pamela hesitated, and threw pine cones into the lake. She had never been very expansive about her life in Canada, and the Watsons had heard few of her experiences there. They had a general impression that Mr. Reynolds had not prospered in the New World, and that Pamela shrank from letting her friends know the roughness of her early upbringing. As a rule they refrained from questioning her—she was not a girl whom it was easy to question—but an adventure could not be resisted.
"Do tell us, Pam!" urged the boys, wriggling nearer, and stopping their whittling.
Pamela threw away all the pine cones that lay in her lap, seemed to think a moment or two, then finally decided.
"All right, I'll tell you if you like! Well, as I've just said, we were living in a log-house in a little clearing in the forest. We used to hear the coyotes howling about at night, but we didn't mind those in the least. They're cowardly beasts, and we'd never seen anything else to frighten us. One day Father had a much longer round to go than usual, and he said he should not be back at night, but would sleep with some friends at a ranch a good many miles off. Mother and I did not mind being left. Daddy had been obliged to stop away like that before, so we were accustomed to it. I went out in the afternoon, across the clearing, and through part of the forest to some open pastures where the berries grew. I stayed there, picking some and eating them, and putting some in my basket, for just ages. It was nice there: I found flowers as well as berries; and I'd brought out a book with me, so I sat down and read and enjoyed myself. Suddenly I noticed that the sun was beginning to set, and I jumped up and felt guilty. I knew that Mother would have supper ready, and that she'd be waiting for me. I ran home all the way. It was getting quite dusk in the forest as I went through. When I came near the house, I could see that the shutters were up, covering the window. That didn't surprise me, because Mother generally closed them as soon as she lighted the lamp. But she always left the door standing open for me, and to-night the door was shut too. I was rushing forward to open it, when I heard Mother's voice calling me.
"'Pamela, stop! Don't come a step nearer, child!'