"Do it now, and fry the fish for us!" said Eleanor. "No, it will be too late for us to begin all that now. We had better wait until supper-time. We really ought to be on the trail by this time," said Polly. "Child alive! You don't intend being out in the woods at supper-time, do you?" gasped Barbara, fearfully. Polly laughed. "Is that so fearful? Why, I think it is piles of fun to camp out on a fine night!" "Maybe you do, but remember the rattle-snake! We may be sleeping on the ground when one comes along-_Oh,_ OH!" cried Barbara, shivering. "Oh, come now, Bob! No use conjuring up such gruesome pictures to tickle your nerves!" exclaimed Eleanor, impatiently. "If you don't want to go on to Grizzly Slide, now's the time to say so! When we get there it will be too late to complain about the lateness of the hour in getting home!" said sensible Polly. "Oh, we all want to go to Grizzly Slide!" asserted Anne, hastily. "And we will take everything that comes with it!" declared Eleanor, eagerly. "Well, all right, but for the love of goodness, don't let's camp in the wilderness all night!" cried Barbara. They sat down after that discussion and ate the sandwiches and fruit, but Polly wanted a piece of the chocolate cake she thought Sary had packed for them. "I couldn't find any! We looked through and found only sandwiches in the papers," said Anne. "Oh, pshaw! I was sure there was cake!" grumbled Polly. "It may possibly be in the bottom of the other pannier, as we didn't unpack everything, you know," suggested Barbara. "If it is, we'll eat it to-night for supper. At least we know Sary packed _something_ good for us," added Anne. Once more on the trail, the adventurers rode through forests where the notes of unseen birds blending with the murmur of pines sounded like weird music to the city girls. "Just like the sea's roar in a conch-shell, isn't it?" whispered Anne, as she listened rapturously. They passed tumbling, hurrying mountain streams where the burnished trout flashed swiftly back and forth in the clear water. They came to an upland park where the soft whistle of quail caused Polly to lift her rifle, but the whir of wings told of a flight. From jagged rents in the cliffs, through which the horses passed, their hoofs ringing echoes from the iron-veined rock, they came to sleepy hollows where the Quaker Aspens stood ghostlike as sentinels on guard before their beautiful Eden. Having climbed one peak and descended it, then the next one, and so on, and on, following the winding trail that became more difficult to find and more dangerous to climb, Polly finally drew rein beside a tree distinctly scarred. "Hurrah! The blaze to the Slide," shouted she, scraping away the lichen that covered the spot. Glad of an excuse to jump down and stretch their limbs, the other girls joined Polly at the tree and saw the blaze, although so old, to be perfectly plain and easily traced. "Four miles to Grizzly Slide!" read Polly, exultantly.