Herbert Rutherford looked at the beaming face and then at the trim but graceful figure in neat print frock just of a length to show a well-formed foot encased in heavy-soled shoes.
"Talk of your city girls—there is a match for any of them," muttered the young man as he saw the maiden spring over the opposite stile and then throw back one of her sweetest smiles.
* * * * *
"A pretty fellow, by Jove," said one.
"A nice commissariat," said a second.
"Why didn't you wait until you came to pick up our bones?" shouted another, with force sufficient to show that starvation had not yet attacked the camp.
"You're all right yet, I guess," said Herbert Rutherford, reining up the pretty and spirited animal beside an old hut that served as dining-hall for the party.
"Herb, say, hope you didn't forget the corkscrew this time," shouted a voice from behind an old stump.
"Caesar and Anthony!" was the exclamation as the smiling maidens and their attendants came in sight.
"Josie Jordan!" cried a trio and the congratulations that followed need not be repeated.