“I imagine, though, that after a good night’s rest and some supper we’ll feel different about it.”
“Maybe. But to-day we’ve done nothing but tumble in.”
“Yes, and we were lucky to get out again every time as easily as we did.”
“True for you. I guess there’s not so much to grumble about after all.”
“Anyhow, we got a fine bearskin. It will help to remind us of this day every time we look at it.”
“Thanks. I don’t need any reminder. I can recollect it all perfectly well without a souvenir.”
They paused once more to rest Harry’s ankle, when suddenly young Simmons gave a glad exclamation.
“Look, Harry! Over yonder among those trees! There’s a man on horseback coming toward us. Maybe we can get you a lift into camp!”
“Perhaps it is some one from the camp. No; it isn’t, though. Who can it be?”
Just then the solitary horseman emerged from the shadow of the white birches that stood ghost-like against their dark back-ground of pine. The red glow of the setting sun streamed full upon him, bathing both rider and horse in a flood of crimson light.