~{ TO CARIBOO AND BACK fen

ward way once more. It was now the beginning
of August, still oppressively hot in the middle
of the day, but cool at night and growing more
and more chilly as they climbed to a higher
altitude. The evenings spent around the camp
fires were the pleasantest part of the day
for all.

It was then that our small party often talked
of home “back East.” For the long hard ‘days,
the weeks spent in strange, wild scenes, had
made them homesick, though no one admitted it.

“Mully,” said Betty one night, choosing a
time for her confidential talk when the pro-
fessor and the tailor were engaged in one of
their never-ending arguments and the two boys
had slipped into the woods behind them to
set a few traps, “Mully, didn’t I once live in
a beautiful, big house?”

“You did, me darlint.”

“I suppose I was almost a baby then, but I
can remember how pretty the grass and the
flowers were. And I can remember a place
all glass, and water splashing in it.

“Sure, that was the green-house, lovey. Con-
servatory, your blessed mother called it.

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