“Nor I!” Rosemary spoke with unfeigned enthusiasm. And who would not? They were standing on a broad ledge. Above them, seeming to melt into the fleecy clouds, was the mountain’s snowy peak. Below, a sheer drop of a thousand feet, was a very narrow valley all covered with the dark green of pine, spruce, cedar and tamarack. The air was rich with the fragrance of the forest.

“One of the high officials in our company is a member,” Rosemary said, nodding back at the lodge. “That’s why we are free to use it.”

“I fancy I shall be coming back.” The young man spoke slowly. He looked her squarely in the eyes. Then turning, he followed swiftly after the others.

“What did he mean by that?” Rosemary asked herself. A strange thought leaped unbidden into her mind. “Supposing the young man took the missing bag and hid it somewhere about the place?

“Nonsense!” she whispered. “Where could he have hidden it? No one had been outside, absolutely no one. And if he did take it, surely he would not tell me he hoped to return.”

Then a strange fact struck her—the look on this young man’s face had changed. When she first saw him he had the appearance of one who had gone through much, who was still haunted by the thought of some great loss. Now his face was as bland and cheerful as an early spring morning.

“What am I to make of that?” she asked herself.

The answer in the end appeared simple enough, “One good night’s sleep.” This, she knew full well, was capable of working wonders on a young and buoyant spirit.

It is strange the manner in which a single incident may change the whole course of thought for an entire group. As they resumed their journey to Salt Lake City, no one in the plane discuss