could grab their clothes, the whole house was a sheet of flame.  There was a wild scramble for the back stairway.  Dad hurried down the front way, stumbling through the smoke to the door.  The dog gave a joyous bark and sprang toward him.  As he opened the door, he stumbled over a large oil-can that always stood just under the stairway.  He didn’t think of it at the time because of his excitement, but later, as he puzzled over the real cause of the fire, he remembered with startling distinctness his stumbling over the empty oil-can, which he knew had been full the day before.  As months went by he put this with other little bits of information, and he believed he understood, yet he had no proof.  The old man who had slept downstairs had oiled the entire first floor, then set it afire.  But why?  That was the question.

“He remembered how the old man had insisted that the house had been struck by lightning.  Dad never saw him again after that night, but a few months afterwards he recognized him in a description of one of the robbers of a stage coach, held up at Duffield’s.  Then, like a flash, it came to Dad.  The old-timer was his enemy of the river pirates, old Shorty Thunder.  He had accidently stumbled onto Dad here in these mountains, and had determined to settle scores once for all.  He had meant by setting fire to the cabin to burn Dad alive, and if it hadn’t been for the dog he probably would have succeeded.”

“Great old tale,” sighed Phil, as he arose and stretched himself.

“Let’s turn in,” suggested Fat, “for you know we have some walking ahead of us to-morrow.”  “Second the motion,” joined in Ham.  “Me for a good, big drink, though, to wash that fairy tale down.  How about it?”

The little party gathered close about the fire after all final arrangements had been made for the night.  Boots were pulled off and set away from the fire.  Watches were wound and trousers unbuckled.  They had all instinctively looked toward the “Chief.”  He had drawn close to the fire, and was turning over the leaves of a pocket Testament.

“What will you have to-night, fellows, from the Great Spirit’s Message before we sleep?”

“The one about the lilies,” said Ham thoughtfully.  “There are several big ones in bloom just at the head of my bed.”  The “Chief” began to read in low, reverent tones.

“And why take ye thought for raiment?  Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”  So he went on reading till he came to the end of the chapter, after which there was a short, reverent prayer, and they were ready for bed.

“They talk about cold, clammy churches being the House of God,” snorted Ham, as he snuggled down into his blanket, “but they aren’t in it with a night like this spent in the open in such a country.”

“There’s a good deal of the primitive man in you yet, Ham,” said Mr. Allen, as he spread out his blanket before the fire.