It was deliciously sweet and restful there in that sunny hollow on the breast of the mountain. The wind swept through the worn branches of the dwarfed spruce with immemorial wistfulness; but these young souls heard it only as a far-off song. Side by side on the soft Alpine clover they rested and talked, looking away at the shining peaks, and down over the dark-green billows of fir beneath them. Half the forest was under their eyes at the moment, and the man said: "Is it not magnificent! It makes me proud of my country. Just think, all this glorious spread of hill and valley is under your father's direction. I may say under _your_ direction, for I notice he does just about what you tell him to do." "You've noticed that?" she laughed. "If I were a man I'd rather be Supervisor of this forest than Congressman." "So would I," he agreed. "Nash says you _are_ the Supervisor. I wonder if your father realizes how efficient you are? Does he ever sorrow over your not being a boy?" Her eyes shone with mirth. "Not that I can notice. He 'pears contented." "You're a good deal like a son to him, I imagine. You can do about all that a boy can do, anyhow--more than I could ever do. Does he realize how much you have to do with the management of his forest? I've never seen your like. I really believe you _could_ carry on the work as well as he." She flushed with pleasure. "You seem to think I'm a district forester in disguise." "I have eyes, Miss Supervisor, and also ears--which leads me to ask: Why don't you clean out that saloon gang? Landon is sure there's crooked work going on at that mill--certainly that open bar is a disgraceful and corrupting thing." Her face clouded. "We've tried to cut out that saloon, but it can't be done. You see, it's on a patented claim--the claim was bogus, of course, and we've made complaint, but the matter is hung up, and that gives 'em a chance to go on." "Well, let's not talk of that. It's too delicious an hour for any question of business. It is a moment for poetry. I wish I could write what I feel this moment. Why don't we camp here and watch the sun go down and the moon rise? From our lofty vantage-ground the coming of dawn would be an epic." "We mustn't think of that," she protested. "We must be going." "Not yet. The hour is too perfect. It may never come again. The wind in the pines, the sunshine, the conies crying from their rocks, the butterflies on the clover--my heart aches with the beauty of it. It's been a wonderful trip. Even that staggering walk in the rain had its splendid quality. I couldn't see the poetry in it then; but I do now. These few days have made us comrades, haven't they--comrades of the trail? You have been very considerate of me." He took her hand. "I've never seen such hands. They are like steel, and yet they are feminine." She drew her hands away. "I'm ashamed of my hands--they are so big and rough and dingy."