Toward the end of the trail, Billie saw an old woman hobbling toward her, leaning on a stout stick. She looked remarkably like one of the aged forest trees unexpectedly come to life. A gnarled, brown, weather-beaten old creature she was, who reminded Billie of a dwarfed apple tree she had seen in Japan, a little old bent thing said to have been over two hundred years old. Attached to the woman's waist was a pocket apron bulging with herbs, camomile and catnip, wood sorrel and sassafras root. "Now, if Mary were here," thought Billie, "she would at once make a story of this: 'The Princess and the Old Witch.' I am sure Mary would call me a princess," she added modestly. When the young girl and the old witch met, they paused without exactly knowing why. The herb gatherer had a strange, small, yellow face, crossed and re-crossed with wrinkles. "Good afternoon," said Billie politely, not knowing what else to say. The old woman waved aside this greeting with her stick. "You come from Sunrise Camp?" she asked in a voice as cracked as her face was wrinkled. Billie nodded. "I bring message. You look for somebody?" "Yes," replied Billie eagerly. "You not find him now. Too much enemies." "Where is he?" she demanded. No answer came to this question. "You will not tell me?" "No tell," answered the old creature. "Is he ill or hurt?" The herb gatherer touched her forehead. "He safe," she answered. "But people not safe who look for him. Too much enemies." After that not another word could Billie get out of the obstinate old creature. Who had sent her? Who was looking after Phoebe's father, if he were hurt or a prisoner? Could not Phoebe see him? Nothing would she reply to all these questions. [Illustration: The old woman waved aside this greeting with her stick.--Page 212.] "I'm much obliged for that much anyhow," said Billie at last. "You must be tired and hungry. Won't you come back to the camp and let me give you----" she paused to consider. What could an old stunted apple tree like? Somehow it didn't seem as if she could live on real food. "Will you drink a cup of tea?" she added hastily. The wrinkled face remained inscrutable. "Or coffee?" "Coffee?" repeated the old soul, and suddenly without the faintest warning, smiled and Billie smiled back. "I can make delicious strong coffee," announced the girl proudly. "You will come, won't you?" "I come," answered the herb-gatherer. "Coffee? I come!" They walked briskly back to camp, this ill-assorted couple, and it was not long before Billie had established her companion in a chair under the trees and the coffee pot on the kerosene stove, where it was soon sending out a fragrant aroma. "Don't you get very tired gathering herbs on the mountains?" asked Billie, by way of making conversation. "When I tired, I rest," answered the other briefly.