"It's odd," I said, "that no trout are jumping. There ought to be lots of them there, and this is their jumping hour." We all looked at the quiet, oval bit of water. Not a circle, not the slightest ripple disturbed it. "It must be deep," remarked Brown. We gazed up at the three lofty peaks, the bases of which were the shores of this tiny gem among lakes. Deep, deep, plunging down into dusky profundity, the rocks fell away sheer into limpid depths. "That little lake may be a thousand feet deep," I said. "In 1903 Professor Farrago, of Bronx Park, measured a lake in the Thunder Mountains, which was two thousand seven hundred and sixty-nine feet deep." Miss White looked at me curiously. Into a patch of late sunshine flitted a small butterfly--one of the _Grapta_ species. It settled on a chip of wood, uncoiled its delicate proboscis, and spread its fulvous and deeply indented wings. "_Grapta California_," remarked Brown to me. "_Vanessa asteriska_" I corrected him. "Note the anal angle of the secondaries and the argentiferous discal area bordering the subcostal nervule." "The characteristic stripes on the primaries are wanting," he demurred. "It is double brooded. The summer form lacks the three darker bands." A few moments' silence was broken by the voice of Miss White. "I had no idea," she remarked, "that Alaskan guides were so familiar with entomological terms and nomenclature." We both turned very red. Brown mumbled something about having picked up a smattering. I added that Brown had taught me. Perhaps she believed us; her blue eyes rested on us curiously, musingly. Also, at moments, I fancied there was the faintest glint of amusement in them. She said: "Two scientific gentlemen from New York requested permission to join this expedition, but Mrs. Batt refused them." She gazed thoughtfully upon the waters of Lake Gladys Doolittle Batt. "I wonder," she murmured, "what became of those two gentlemen." It was evident that we had betrayed ourselves to this young girl. She glanced at us again, and perhaps she noticed in our fascinated gaze an expression akin to terror, for suddenly she laughed--such a clear, sweet, silvery little laugh! "For my part," she said, "I wish they had come with us. I like--men." With that she bade us goodnight very politely and went off to her tent, leaving us with our hats pressed against our stomachs, attempting by the profundity of our bows to indicate the depth of our gratitude. "_There's_ a girl!" exclaimed Brown, as soon as she had disappeared behind her tent flaps. "She'll never let on to Medusa, Xantippe, Cassandra and Company. I _like_ that girl, Smith." "You're not the only one imbued by such sentiments," said I. He smiled a fatuous and reminiscent smile. He certainly was good-looking. Presently he said: "She has the most delightful way of gazing at a man--" "I've noticed," I said pleasantly. "Oh. Did she happen to glance at _you_ that way?" he inquired. I wanted to beat him.