When Meg entered the front room of the inn, her smile was as bright as ever. Mrs. Bently often said that it didn't matter how gloomy the day might be, when Meg appeared with "that lighten' up" smile of hers, somehow it seemed as though the sun had burst through, and even if things had been going wrong, they began to go right then and there. "Mrs. Bently," the girl said, "Pa Heger told me not to come home today without the County Weekly News. It's days overdue." The comely woman's face brightened. "Wall, I've found that newspaper at last," she announced. "That man of mine didn't have on his specks when he was sortin' the mail, I reckon. Anyhow he stuck that paper o' yer pa's 'way over into Mr. Peters' box. 'Twas fetched clear out to his ranch and fetched back agin." "Thanks." Meg said brightly, as she took the paper. "It won't matter any. I don't suppose there's any startling news in it." Half way up the mountain road Meg drew rein and listened. There was not a breath of wind stirring. The sun beat down relentlessly and heat shimmered from the red-gold dust of the road ahead. The only sounds were the humming, buzzing and wing-whirring of the multitudinous insects all about her. Then again she heard the sound which had first attracted her attention. A pitiful little gasping cry. Leaping from her pony, she commanded: "Pal, stand still for a moment. One of our little brothers is calling for help." Although the faint cry had instantly ceased, Meg remembered the direction from which it had come and climbed agilely down the rocks to find that one, having been dislodged, had caught a Douglas squirrel's tail and had held it captive so long that the creature was nearly starved.