Tally now led the way along a faint wild trail that skirted the lake, and soon, the scouts came to a rippling stream which the horses had to ford. The scene was splendidly wild, and isolation hung like a curtain over everything. Mystic sounds chirruped at them as their horses went clipclopping over the hardened trail; finally they rode out to an open place which was enchanting in its beauty. The fast-fading reflections of the setting sun, purple and rose, which shimmered upon the bosom of the water touched this mist into a rosy aura.
“Here we mek camp,” announced Tally, reining in his horse.
The rest of the party dismounted and preparations were instantly begun for a night camp.
“Who will go for the fish?” asked the Captain.
“Oh, Gilly! do let some of us girls go with you!” cried Joan.
“That will have to be as the Captain says,” replied Mr. Gilroy.
“Two of you girls can go with Gilly, and two must remain here to assist me in making the beds,” said the Captain.
“I don’t want to fish,” said Betty; “I can’t bear to see the poor little things wriggle on the hook.”
“But you can bear to eat them when somebody else hooks them,” laughed Julie.
“Mees Betty, you no forget how to mek hemlock bed, eh?” asked Tally, as he arranged the cook-stove upon which to prepare dinner.