"
They were camped in a notch on the tiptop of a long divide, a thousand
feet above the general level. A wide valley rolled below, and from the
height they overlooked two great, sinuous lakes and a multitude of
smaller ones. The mountain range to which Bill pointed loomed seventy
miles distance, angling northwest. The sun glinted on the snow-capped
peaks, though they themselves were in the shadow.
"I've been wondering," Hazel said. "This country somehow seems
different. You're not going back to Cariboo Meadows, are you?"
Bill bestowed a look of surprise on her.
"I should say not!" he drawled. "Not that it would make any difference
to me. But I'm very sure you don't want to turn up there in my
company."
"That's true," she observed. "But all the clothes and all the money I
have in the world are there."
"Don't let money worry you," he said briefly. "I have got plenty to
see you through. And you can easily buy clothes."
They were now ten days on the road. Their course had lain across low,
rolling country, bordered by rugged hills, spotted with lakes, and cut
here and there by streams that put Bill Wagstaff to many strange shifts
in crossing. But upon leaving this camp they crossed a short stretch
of low country, and then struck straight into the heart of a
mountainous region.
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