"
Diana, who was sitting on a rock by the fire, long, slender legs
crossed, hands clasping one knee, an amused spectator of the scene,
looked up at Mack with a smile.
"Indeed you won't, Mack. Na-che and I have our tent. We'll put it up
in the sand, as usual. And tomorrow, having delivered our prize
package, we'll be on our way."
Enoch looked up quickly. "Don't be selfish, Miss Allen!" he exclaimed.
"That's the idea!" Mack joined in vehemently. Then he added, with a
grin, "The Judge has plumb ruined our quiet little expedition anyhow.
And after two weeks of him and Curly, I'm darn glad to see you, Diana.
How's your Dad?"
"Very well, indeed! If he had had any idea that I was going on this
sort of trip, though, I think he'd have insisted on coming with me.
Judge, let me finish those birds. You're ruining them."
"Whose quail are these, I'd like to know?" demanded Enoch.
"Yours," replied Diana meekly, "but I had thought that some edible
portion besides the pope's nose and the neck ought to be left on them."
Jonas, who had been crouching uneasily on a rock, a disapproving
spectator of the scene, groaned audibly. Na-che now came into the glow
of the fire. She was a comely-faced woman, of perhaps forty-five,
neatly dressed in a denim suit.
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