After lunch the children announced that they would do up the dishes if Dan would give them a lesson in shooting the big gun when they were through. "Well," the older boy smilingly conceded, "I'll try to teach you to handle the smaller gun; yes, both of you," he assured Julie, who was making an effort to attract his attention by motions behind Jane's back. "You really ought to both know how to use it. You might need to know how some time to protect yourselves." "What shall you do, Jane, while we are learning to shoot?" Julie inquired when the kitchen had again been tidied and the children were ready for their very first lesson with the small gun. "Maybe Jane'll want to learn too," Gerald suggested, but the older girl declared that she simply could not and would not touch one of the dreadful things. "Won't you come with us and watch the fun?" Dan lingered, when the two active youngsters had bounded out of the cabin. But the girl shook her head. "It wouldn't be fun to me," she said fretfully. "I'd much rather be left all alone. I want to write a long letter to Merry. She will be eager to hear from me, just as I am from her." There was a self-pitying tone in the girl's voice and a slight quiver to her lips. She turned hastily into her room and closed the door. She did not want Dan to see the tears. The lad went out on the wide front porch and stood for a moment with folded arms, his gray eyes gazing across the sun-shimmered valley, but he was not conscious of the grandeur of the scene. He was regretting, deeply regretting that he had permitted his sister to come to a country so distasteful to her. He well knew that she had shut herself in her room to sob out her grief and disappointment and then perhaps to write it all to this friend of whom she so often spoke and whom she seemed to love so dearly. Once Dan turned toward the door as though to return to the cabin. His impulse was to go to Jane and tell her not to unpack. The stage would be passing there again on the following day, and, if she wished she could go back to the East. In fact, the lad almost believed that if Jane went, it might hasten his recovery. Her evident unhappiness was causing him to worry, and that was most detrimental. With a deep sigh of resignation, he did turn toward the open door, bent on carrying out his resolve, but a cry of alarm from Julie sent him running around the cabin and up toward the brook. He met the children, white-faced, big-eyed, hurrying toward him, Gerald carrying the small gun. "What is it, Gerry? What have you seen to frighten you?" He looked about as he spoke, but saw nothing but the jagged mountain side, the rushing, whirling brook and the peaceful old pines.