The ranger was away upon his beat, but his door stood hospitably open, and they had gladly entered, sure that a welcome was intended. In his little kitchen they had eaten dinner, leaving some of their bacon as a gift. Then an idea had seized Aunt Nan. Why not pick some of the raspberries which grew in profusion near by, and cook a quart of them as winter preserves for the ranger? It did not take very long for nine pair of hands to pick three quarts instead of one, and within an hour, sugar having been found in the pantry, the berries were cooking on the little stove. Jars, too, were discovered, and at three o'clock when the boys had brought the horses, five cooks in khaki surveyed their gift with proud eyes. They had ridden hurriedly away, realizing that they were already late if they wanted Sagebrush Point for a camping-place; and three miles below the cabin Vivian had discovered the loss of her wrist-watch, a birthday gift from her father. "Don't you worry a bit, Vivian," Virginia said, reassuringly, as she urged Pedro up the steep trail. "We'd just as soon ride back as not, and I wouldn't have you lose the watch for the world. Of course the ranger would keep it safe for us, but there's no knowing when we could get away up here again. It's best to go now when we're only three miles away." "I'm dead sure it's right on the table," said Carver. "I saw you put it there, Vivian, when you got ready to wash the dishes." Carver Standish was right. The watch was on the table where she had left it. The cabin seemed more lonely than ever as they hurried away. The rush of the river hundreds of feet below, the drowsy hum of the August insects, and the sound of their horses' feet upon the stones alone broke the silence. Vivian shivered. "I hate it here, now," she said. "Let's hurry back to the others." But it was impossible to hurry down the steep, rocky trail. The horses were tired, and a misstep or a stumble would be dangerous. Pedro, sure of himself on any trail, led the way, and Vivian and Carver followed, weaving right and left down the mountain side. More than once Carver glanced apprehensively at his watch. It was growing late--nearly five already!--and Virginia had told Donald they would be at Sagebrush Point at six! It was impossible. They could never make it! Vivian was worried, too. She hated the shadows that began to creep in among the trees, the lonely call of a bird in the timber, the coolness that came as the afternoon waned. She shivered again, when at the first ford, where they had separated more than an hour before, the rawhide thongs in one of her stirrups broke, and caused a second delay.