It was a beautiful spot where Weston had erected his forest habitation.  The cabin nestled on the shore of a very fine lake.  At the back stood the trees, which came almost to the door.  The building was composed entirely of logs, and contained a small kitchen, two bed-rooms, and a living-room.  A stone fire-place had been built at one end of the latter, while the walls were adorned with trophies of the chase.  Books of various kinds filled several shelves, and magazines and newspapers were piled upon a side-table.  It was a most cozy abode, and Weston was greatly pleased at the interest Glen and Reynolds took in everything.

“My, I should like to spend a few weeks here,” Reynolds remarked, as he examined the books.  “What a grand time one could have reading and meditating.  You have a fine collection, sir,” and he turned to Weston, who was standing near.

“I bring only the masters here,” was the reply.  “One cannot afford to pack useless truck over the trail.  In a place such as this the mind is naturally reflective, and one craves for things that are old and firmly established.”

“But what about those?” and Reynolds pointed to the magazines and newspapers.

“Oh, they have their place, too,” and Weston smiled.  “Even in the wilderness a man should not lose touch with the busy world outside.  I consider that the study of the past and present should go together.  By keeping abreast of the times one can form some idea how the world is progressing, and by reading the masters of other days one can interpret all the better the problems of the present.”

While Weston and Reynolds discussed the books, Glen was busily engaged setting the table for supper.  Natsu had taken the horses down to the wild meadow some distance away, and Sconda was in the kitchen.  The latter was an excellent cook, and prided himself upon his ability to provide a most delicious repast, whether of moose meat or fried salmon.  It was the latter he was preparing this evening, the fish having been brought from Glen West.  Several loaves of fresh white bread, made the night before, had been provided by Nannie, as well as some choice cake and preserves.

In a little less than an hour supper was ready, and Glen took her place at the head of the table.  Cloth for the table there was none, but the rough boards were spotlessly clean.  The dishes were coarse, and all the dainty accessories of a modern household were wanting.  But Reynolds never enjoyed a meal as he did that one in the little cabin by the mirroring lake.  To him it was the girl who supplied all that was lacking.  She performed her humble duties as hostess with the same grace as if presiding at a fashionable repast in the heart of civilization.  He noted the happy expression in her eyes, and the rich color which mantled her cheeks whenever she met his ardent gaze.