other man 'd make me climb up just because he'd slipped down, I'd take
him out o' the mud all right, all right, and punch and punch him back
into the mud again. Besides, I knew somebody was bound to come along
my way after a while."

"Oh, you'll do!" she cried, appropriating Del Bishop's phrase. "You'll
do for this country!"

"Yep," he called back, shouldering his pack and starting off at a
lively clip. "And, anyway, I got a good rest."

The trail dipped through a precipitous morass to the river's brink. A
slender pine-tree spanned the screaming foam and bent midway to touch
the water. The surge beat upon the taper trunk and gave it a
rhythmical swaying motion, while the feet of the packers had worn
smooth its wave-washed surface. Eighty feet it stretched in ticklish
insecurity. Frona stepped upon it, felt it move beneath her, heard the
bellowing of the water, saw the mad rush--and shrank back. She slipped
the knot of her shoe-laces and pretended great care in the tying
thereof as a bunch of Indians came out of the woods above and down
through the mud. Three or four bucks led the way, followed by many
squaws, all bending in the head-straps to the heavy packs. Behind came
the children burdened according to their years, and in the rear half a
dozen dogs, tongues lagging out and dragging forward painfully under
their several loads.

The men glanced at her sideways, and one of them said something in an
undertone. Frona could not hear, but the snicker which went down the
line brought the flush of shame to her brow and told her more forcibly
than could the words. Her face was hot, for she sat disgraced in her