"I'm not worth all your care," he said to her, with poignant glance. The sun rose clear and warm, and the fire, the coffee, put new courage into him as well as into the others, and while the morning was yet early and the forest chill and damp with rain, the surveyor brought up the horses and started packing the outfit. In this Berrie again took part, doing her half of the work quite as dextrously as Nash himself. Indeed, the forester was noticeably confused and not quite up to his usual level of adroit ease. At last both packs were on, and as they stood together for a moment, Nash said: "This has been a great experience--one I shall remember as long as I live." She stirred uneasily under his frank admiration. "I'm mightily obliged to you," she replied, as heartily as she could command. "Don't thank me, I'm indebted to you. There is so little in my life of such companionship as you and Norcross give me." "You'll find it lonesome over at the station, I'm afraid," said she. "But Moore intends to put a crew of tie-cutters in over there--that will help some." She smiled. "I'm not partial to the society of tie-jacks." "If you ride hard you may find that Moore girl in camp. She was there when we left." There was a sparkle of mischief in her glance. "I'm not interested in the Moore girl," he retorted. "Do you know her?" "I've seen her at the post-office once or twice; _she_ is not my kind." She gave him her hand. "Well, good-by. I'm all right now that Wayland can ride." He held her hand an instant. "I believe I'll ride back with you as far as the camp." "You'd better go on. Father is waiting for you. I'll send the men along." There was dismissal in her voice, and yet she recognized as never before the fine qualities that were his. "Please don't say anything of this to others, and tell my father not to worry about us. We'll pull in all right." He helped Norcross mount his horse, and as he put the lead rope into Berrie's hand, he said: with much feeling: "Good luck to you. I shall remember this night all the rest of my life." "I hate to be going to the rear," called Wayland, whose bare, bandaged head made him look like a wounded young officer. "But I guess it's better for me to lay off for a week or two and recover my tone." And so they parted, the surveyor riding his determined way up the naked mountainside toward the clouds, while Berrie and her ward plunged at once into the dark and dripping forest below. "If you can stand the grief," she said, "we'll go clear through." Wayland had his misgivings, but did not say so. His confidence in his guide was complete. She would do her part, that was certain. Several times she was forced to dismount and blaze out a new path in order to avoid some bog; but she sternly refused his aid. "You must not get off," she warned; "stay where you are. I can do this work better alone."