Part 32

"Your costume is too appropriate. Haven't you noticed that the women who live out here carefully avoid convenient and artistic dress? Now your outfit is precisely what they should wear and don't."

This amused her. "I know, but they all say they have to wear out their Sunday go-to-meeting clothes, whereas I can 'rag out proper.' I'm glad you like my 'rig.'"

"When I look at you," he said, "I'm back on old Broadway at the Herald Square Theater. The play is 'Little Blossom, or the Cowgirl's Revenge.' The heroine has just come into the miner's cabin--"

"Oh, go 'long," she replied, seizing her cue and speaking in character, "you're stringin' me."

"Not on your life! Your outfit is a peacherino," he declared. "I am glad you rode by."

At the moment he was bent on drawing the girl's attention from Berrie, but as she went on he came to like her. She said: "No, I don't belong here; but I come out every year during vacation with my father. I love this country. It's so big and wide and wild. Father has built a little bungalow down at the lower mill, and we enjoy every day of our stay."

"You're a Smith girl," he abruptly asserted.

"What makes you think so?"

"Oh, there's something about you Smith girls that gives you dead away."

"Gives us away! I like that!"

"My phrase was unfortunate. I like Smith girls," he hastened to say; and in five minutes they were on the friendliest terms--talking of mutual acquaintances--a fact which both puzzled and hurt Berea. Their laughter angered her, and whenever she glanced at them and detected Siona looking into Wayland's face with coquettish simper, she was embittered. She was glad when Moore came in and interrupted the dialogue.

Norcross did not relax, though he considered the dangers of cross-examination almost entirely passed. In this he was mistaken, for no sooner was the keen edge of Mrs. Belden's hunger dulled than her curiosity sharpened.

"Where did you say the Supervisor was?" she repeated.

"The horses got away, and he had to go back after them," again responded Berrie, who found the scrutiny of the other girl deeply disconcerting.

"When do you expect him back?"

"Any minute now," she replied, and in this she was not deceiving them, although she did not intend to volunteer any information which might embarrass either Wayland or herself.

Norcross tried to create a diversion. "Isn't this a charming valley?"

Siona took up the cue. "Isn't it! It's romantic enough to be the back-drop in a Bret Harte play. I love it!"

Moore turned to Wayland. "I know a Norcross, a Michigan lumberman, Vice-President of the Association. Is he, by any chance, a relative?"

"Only a father," retorted Wayland, with a smile. "But don't hold me responsible for anything he has done. We seldom agree."

Moore's manner changed abruptly. "Indeed! And what is the son of W. W. Norcross doing out here in the Forest Service?"

The change in her father's tone was not lost upon Siona, who ceased her banter and studied the young man with deeper interest, while Mrs. Belden, detecting some restraint in Berrie's tone, renewed her questioning: "Where did you camp last night?"

"Right here."

"I don't see how the horses got away. There's a pasture here, for we rode right through it."

Berrie was aware that each moment of delay in explaining the situation looked like evasion, and deepened the significance of her predicament, and yet she could not bring herself to the task of minutely accounting for her time during the last two days.

Belden came to her relief. "Well, well! We'll have to be moving on. We're going into camp at the mouth of the West Fork," he said, as he rose. "Tell Tony and the Supervisor that we want to line out that timber at the earliest possible moment."

Siona, who was now distinctly coquetting with Wayland, held out her hand. "I hope you'll find time to come up and see us. I know we have other mutual friends, if we had time to get at them."

His answer was humorous. "I am a soldier. I am on duty. I'm not at all sure that I shall have a moment's leave; but I will call if I can possibly do so."