At noon she was almost thankful that she had not reached the creek where the little party had lunched so happily two days before. Now she spread her simple fare upon a smooth ledge and watched the varied light and shadow across the fast changing foliage as she ate. The birds fluttered and sang in the pines above her head. Now and then one grew bold enough to fly down for the crumbs she scattered upon the ground. Over the opposite edge of the flinty table a pair of bright eyes peered longingly. Talitha laughed as she flung the bushy-tailed visitor her last morsel, and rose to resume her journey. She planned to reach home by supper time, but it had not been so easy to travel without the aid of a strong arm over the roughest places. No thought of fear had entered her mind until that moment; now the prospect of being alone at night on those wooded heights where the darkness was dense under the thick branching trees made her shrink. The afternoon was half gone when Talitha dropped down at the foot of a pine, tired and footsore. She was not yet rested from the journey of the two days previous, and it seemed as though her aching feet could never carry her home that night. She sat debating with herself as to the possibility of finding a nearby shelter. Not a cabin was in sight. She looked around anxiously, shading her eyes with her hand, to peer along the ridges. A broad shaft of sunlight lay across the leafage of the opposite mountain. How vividly it brought out the autumn tints which flecked the green like rich tapestry. Then, with a frightened gasp of dismay, she noticed for the first time the pile of threatening clouds in the west, and the long, deep shadows which lay in the hollows of those great hills. Over the highest peak of the ridge beyond, they were coming—the slim, mist-coloured lances of the storm. Down the mountain-side they marched, legion after legion. A swift line of fire zigzagged above their heads, and suddenly the sky seemed filled with the rattle of musketry. Talitha fled, at the first sign of approach, to the shelter of a thick cluster of oaks. She reached it trembling and breathless only to see a cabin a few rods beyond. Without waiting to speculate who its occupants might be, she ran to it, the storm at her back, the wind contesting each step over the rough slope. Her little bundle was a cumbrous weight upon her shoulders. At the door the girl knocked hurriedly. Her heart was beating fast. It was twilight around her, and the voice of the storm came up with a terrible roar. There was no answer from within the cabin and the door did not open, but in her great stress Talitha entered timidly.