182 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
two feet of water, when the first of six horses, walk- 
ing single file, turned the bend a scant forty feet 
below us and advanced leisurely up the trail. Upon 
the horses, riding astride, were the six girls from 
Silver City, the late guests of the Diamond Bar. 
Snapping twigs and the soft ‘‘thud, thud’’ of hoofs 
first drew our attention to the approaching caval- 
cade. 
One glance was enough for us! We glided, si- 
lent as wraiths, into the timber. At the same mo- 
ment Horace, emerging from the water, beheld the 
invasion. 
‘¢Back!’’ he cried hoarsely, his anguish manifest 
in an unnatural intonation. 
“Back! Don’t you.see I’m here?’’ 
Nobody ever knew what possessed the unhappy 
youth to propound that particular query. It was 
superfluous, to say the least. Probably for that rea- 
son it remained unanswered and obtrusive—as if 
suspended in the chilly air. 
Looking neither to the right nor to the left the 
fair campers passed sedately by with no sign of 
recognising Horace’s existence. Only, as they rode 
slowly out of sight, the pretty girl whom Horace 
had especially favoured crushed a handkerchief to 
her face and I could swear I saw her shoulders shake 
convulsively. 
Poor Wetherby, after his first awful outburst, re- 
lapsed into a complete and desperate silence. By a 
timely contortion he had lowered himself in the shal- 
