Elsie, when the celebration was finally over. "Was there ever such a dear, dear cañon with such dear people in it! If it only would n't rain and we could live here forever!"

recited Polly, and then everybody went to their straw beds.

CHAPTER XI.

BREAKING CAMP.

"The thirsty earth soaks up the rain
And drinks and gapes for drink again ;
The plants suck in the earth and are,
With constant drinking, fresh and fair.”

BUT it did rain; and it did n't wait until

they were out of the cañon, either. It began long before the proper time, and it by no means confined itself to a shower, but opened the winter season fully a month before there was any need of it, and behaved altogether in a most heartless and inconsiderate manner, like a very spoil-sport of a rain.

It began after dark, so as to be just as dis

agreeable as possible, and under the too slight cover of their tents the campers could hear the rush and the roar of it like the tramping of myriad feet on the leaves. Pancho and the two Chinamen huddled under the broad sycamores in their rubber blankets, and were dry and comfortable; but all the waterproof tents leaked, save Elsie's.

But when it was dawn, the Sun, having heard nothing apparently of any projected change in the weather, rose at the usual time in the most resplendent fashion, — brighter, rosier, and more gloriously, if you will believe me, than he had risen that whole long sunshiny summer! And he really must have felt paid for getting up at such an unearthly hour in the morning, when, after he had clambered over the gray mountain peaks, he looked down upon Las Flores Cañon, bathed in the light of his own golden beams.

If he knew anything about Ancient History and Biblical Geography, and if he did n't I don't know who should, inasmuch as he had been present from the beginning of time, — he must have thought it as fair as the Garden of Eden; for Nature's face simply shone with cleanliness, like that of a smiling child just fresh from its bath, and every leaf of every

tree glistened as he beamed upon it, and shook off its crystal drops that he might turn them into diamonds.

"It was only a shower," said Dr. Winship, as he seated himself on a damp board and partook of a moist breakfast, "and with this sun the tents will be dry before night; Elsie has caught no cold, the dust will be laid, and we can stay another week with safety."

Everybody was hilarious over this decision save the men-of-all-work, who longed unspeakably for a less poetic existence, -Hop Yet, particularly, who thought camping out "not muchee good."

Dicky was more pleased than anybody, perhaps, as every day in the cañon was one day less in school; not that he had ever been to school, but he knew in advance, instinctively, that it would n't suit him. Accordingly he sought the wettest possible places and played all day with superhuman energy. He finally found Hop Yet's box of blueing under a tree, in a very moist and attractive state of fluidity, and just before dinner improved the last shining hour by painting himself a brilliant hue and appearing at dinner in such a fiendish guise that he frightened the family into fits.

Now Dr. Winship was one of the most

weather-wise men in California, and his predictions were always quite safe and sensible; but somehow or other it did rain again in two or three days, and it poured harder than ever, too. To be sure, it cleared promptly, but the doctor was afraid to trust so fickle a person as the Clerk of the Weather had become, and marching orders were issued.

The boys tramped over all their favorite bits of country, and the girls visited all their best beloved haunts, every one of them dear from a thousand charming associations. They looked for the last time in Mirror Pool, and saw the reflection of their faces, - rather grave faces just then, over the leave-taking.

The water-mirror might have been glad to keep the picture forever on its surface, -Margery with her sleek braids and serene forehead; Polly, with saucy nose and mischievous eyes, laughing at you like a merry water-sprite; Bell, with her brilliant cheeks glowing like two roses just fallen in the brook; and Gold Elsie, who, if you had put a frame of green leaves about her delicate face and yellow locks, would have looked up at you like a water-lily.

They wafted a farewell to Pico Negro, and having gotten rid of the boys, privately embraced a certain Whispering Tree under whose