And then--" she quirked her lips in a little smile, "she'll be wilder still because I'm not there where she supposed I'd be when she waked up." Jack replied with something slangy and youthful and altogether like the old Jack Corey, and led her up the steep trail to the peak.

They took their time, now that they were beyond the fire zone.

They turned often to watch the flames while they got their breath; and every time Marion stopped, she observed tritely that it was a shame such beautiful timber must burn, and invariably added, "But isn't it beautiful ?" And to both observations Jack would agree without any scorn of the triteness.

Whereas he would have been furious had a mere tourist exclaimed about the beauty of a forest fire, which to him had always seemed a terrible thing.
They found the telephone ringing like mad, and Jack turned red around the ears and stuttered a good deal before he was through answering the questions of the supervisor, and explaining why he had not answered the phone in the last hour.
"Here, let me talk," commanded Marion suddenly, and took the receiver out of Jack's hand.

"I'll tell you where he was," she called crisply to the accusing voice at the other end.