“Oh, we don’t mind anything!” said Marjorie, cheerfully. “I think it’s all wonderful. Walt Whitman sang the glories of the open road, but he only spoke about tramping. Following a trail on horseback seems infinitely more alluring to me.” “There’s another point we have in common,” remarked Kirk Smith, who had been riding behind Marjorie. “Another?” repeated the girl, unaware that she had anything in common with this strange young man. “Yes, you seem to share my desire in trying to avoid the members of the opposite sex.” Marjorie laughed. “I don’t try to avoid anybody,” she said. “But I also don’t run after anybody.” “A very good rule,” observed the young man, approvingly. They were going over the mines now, and saw a group of deserted cabins, inhabited only by pack-rats. Nearby were the mine shafts, and all about were pine trees, shutting out the light and making the place appear gloomy and forbidding. Involuntarily the girls shuddered. “Marj,” whispered Lily, thinking of the troop good turn the other had talked about at scout meeting, “do you think we ought to get off our horses and search those cabins to see whether there are any people in them in need of help? I once saw a movie where everybody in the house was dead except a tiny baby, and if some people hadn’t happened in by chance, it would have died of starvation.” Marjorie saw that Lily was more than half in earnest, and she was too considerate to laugh at the suggestion. But she shook her head decidedly. “No, Lil, I guess there’s nothing in there. And we mustn’t go anywhere that Mr. Hilton doesn’t go, because it might cave in, and if we’d fall--” “Oh, look at this cliff, Marj!” interrupted Lily. Ahead of them was a steep, rocky ascent, so narrow that the horses scarcely had room to go along in single file. To the right was a sharp bank, with a deep ravine below. Involuntarily the scouts gasped at the danger; for if their horses should slip, there would be no chance for their lives. But no one said anything until the worst was past; then Doris heaved a sigh of relief. “Is there anything worse than that?” asked Florence, a few minutes later. “Not on this trip,” replied Mr. Hilton. “But I will say that Girl Scouts are plucky!” “They certainly are!” added Kirk, admiringly. The rest of the ride was comparatively easy. At three o’clock the party came to a stop in a pleasant place where a few pine trees afforded a little protection. The men began to unpack, and to make a fire, while the cook prepared dinner. Everyone was hungry; except for some chocolate and crackers, the girls had not tasted food since breakfast.