Her host had just put the bacon and fried potatoes in the oven, and was engaged in propping the door ajar with two sticks of firewood.
"Good-morning," she greeted.
"And good-morning to you," he responded, rising to his feet and picking up the water-bucket.

"I don't hope that you slept well, for I know you did." Frona laughed.
"I'm going out after some water," he vouchsafed.

"And when I return I shall expect you ready for breakfast." After breakfast, basking herself in the sun, Frona descried a familiar bunch of men rounding the tail of the glacier in the direction of Crater Lake.

She clapped her hands.
"There comes my outfit, and Del Bishop as shame-faced as can be, I'm sure, at his failure to connect." Turning to the man, and at the same time slinging camera and satchel over her shoulder, "So I must say good-by, not forgetting to thank you for your kindness." "Oh, not at all, not at all.

Pray don't mention it.