"I was convinced we ought to dig a hole," said she gravely. "Now,
let's go somewhere else."

She arose to her feet, shaking the sand free from her skirts.

"I think, through these woods," she decided. "Can we get back to
town this way?"

Receiving Orde's assurance, she turned at once down the slope
through the fringe of scrub spruces and junipers into the tall
woods. Here the air fell still. She remarked on how warm it
seemed, and began to untie from over her ears the narrow band of
veil that held close her hat.

"Yes," replied Orde. "The lumber-jacks say that the woods are the
poor man's overcoat."

She paused to savour this, her head on one side, her arms upraised
to the knot.

"Oh, I like that!" said she, continuing her task. In a moment or so
the veil hung free. She removed it and the hat, and swung them both
from one finger, and threw back her head.

"Hear all the birds!" she said.

Softly she began to utter a cheeping noise between her lips and
teeth, low and plaintive. At once the volume of bird-sounds about
increased; the half-seen flashes became more frequent. A second