His face was almost as white as her own, as he approached, but she gave him a smile and a grateful look that seemed to reassure him; and, after seeing that her position was as comfortable as circumstances would permit, he took off his thick jacket and laid it over her, in spite of a feeble protest,—for the September morning was still cool, and the wind whistled sharply through the ravine. Next, Fred busied himself in gathering sticks, and, wet as they were, he succeeded, with the aid of several matches, in coaxing a blaze out of them, almost at her feet. By the time the rest of the company came panting up the steep slope, she had so far recovered as to sit up and hold out her cold hands to the cheery little fire which crackled and snapped merrily against a big bowlder. Many were the clumsy inquiries of the boys, and the caresses of the girls as they came upon her sitting there, with Fred standing silently at one side—no longer jacketless, for she had pleaded so hard that he had put it on again. There was some discussion as to what action should now be taken, some favoring a slow return to Crawford’s by the road, some by the track, and some, a short walk further down the valley to the Willey House, where they could obtain rest and refreshment. After many sober arguments, quite different from the eager propositions in the parlor that morning, they decided to return at once to the hotel, and _not_ by the track. It was a very silent and nervous little group of young people that made its way down to the wagon road at the bottom of the valley. Fred had been nearly exhausted, after all, by his efforts, and Lou was so prostrated that they feared she could not get home at all. But the spirits and strength of the young are elastic, and by the time they repassed the Notch, one would hardly know, to look at them, that anything unusual had happened. It was agreed that all should say as little about the affair as possible. Accordingly, nearly all the party were in the parlor that night, dancing, chatting, and laughing as usual. For the next few days, it was observed that Fred Seacomb did not play tennis, and that Lou Elwin never again chid him for his mild ways and moderate excursions. Report says that she told him, in her own frank way, that she was ashamed of her former treatment of him; at any rate, she will not hear a word said against him, among her friends; and not once since that day has she been known to accuse him of unmanliness. THE GIRAFFE.