“Lots of things,” Marion said, laughing.
“What, for instance?”
“To begin with,” she said, “the picture was probably taken with a 3-A folding Kodak with a rapid rectilinear lens. It was taken in the middle of the day.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well,” she said, “despite the fact that the lens was stopped ’way down, there’s still a certain blurring at the extreme corners and there’s a peculiar diffused warmth to the shadows. You get that with a rapid rectilinear lens. The anastigmatic lens has a tendency to cut things wire-sharp. But there isn’t quite the warmth in the shadows and—”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean the lens was stopped ’way down?” Hank asked.
She said, “When the diaphragm shutter of a lens is wide open, the speed is increased hut there’s very little depth to the field. In other words, if you take a fairly long focal-length lens such as is necessary to cover a postcard-size film, and set it, say, at twenty-five feet and leave it wide open, things beyond thirty feet or so will be out of focus, and things closer than twenty feet will be out of focus. I’ve forgotten the exact table, but that will serve as an illustration. On the other hand, if the lens is stopped ’way down, virtually everything will be in focus. The stopping down gives a depth of field. Objects only eight or ten feet away will be fairly sharp, and so will things in the distance.”
“And this lens was stopped down?”
“This lens was stopped down,” Marion said. “Moreover, see the little white fog down there in the corner? Well, that’s a light leak, and probably came from a little hole in the bellows of the camera. If it had been careless winding on the spool, you’d have seen a little different type of leak and... Here’s Mrs. Adrian now.”
Corliss Adrian, trim and fresh, stepped out from behind a rock. Apparently she was engaged in watching the other side of the stream very intently. But she seemed to watch it a little too long, and her surprise on finally seeing Hank and Marion seemed a little too pronounced.
Marion started to say, “I think she’s been watching us,” but then abruptly changed her mind and remained silent.
Hank said good-naturedly, but still with a certain rebuke in his voice, “This here is a searching party out to locate the lost tenderfoot.”
“Don’t ever worry about me,” Corliss Adrian said, with a quick, nervous laugh. “I decided to get up and see if I couldn’t see a deer.”
“See anything?”
“I saw some does and fawns and one young buck!”
“Breakfast is just about over,” Hank said. “We’re trying to get things cleaned up so we can get away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll rush right on back. Hank—”
“Yes?”
“Do you see that canyon up there, the one with the peculiarly shaped rock up near the top of the ridge?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What place is that?”
“Broken Leg Canyon.”
“I wonder if we could go up there. It looks like marvelous country.”
“That’s just about where I’m aiming to go,” Hank said.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“You see,” Hank explained, “when Bill showed me the picture of that cabin, there wasn’t anything on it that gave a definite clue to where it was, but somehow, from the way the ground looked, I had a hunch the thing might be up Broken Leg Canyon. I thought we’d take a look up there. Provided it’s okay with Miss Chandler here.”
“Oh, I think that would be wonderful,” Marion said eagerly. “It looks very inviting. That rock would really make a magnificent photograph.”
“Then that’s all settled,” Corliss said.
Marion wondered if Hank Lucas had detected a certain note of smug satisfaction in Corliss’s voice. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, but he seemed thoroughly engrossed in picking his way over stream-worn boulders.
Dewitt was landing a fish as they walked past and was too engrossed in what he was doing to even see them. The cook was plainly angry, and Howard Kenney, faced with the job of getting the packsaddles on the horses, was indignantly silent.
Corliss Adrian moved over to a place by the fire, apparently heedless of the taciturn disapproval of the cook. Lucas started getting packsaddles on the horses, and Marion moved over to the two men. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked Kenney.
“Not a thing,” Kenney said, smiling. “You might get your personal things all together and the air out of your air mattress. No use trying to break any records getting a start, though. The Queen of Sheba is going to take her time.”
Marion glanced over to where Corliss Adrian was settling herself in a folding chair at the camp table with every evidence of preparing to enjoy a leisurely breakfast.
“Not much we can do until we get the kitchen ready to load,” Kenney explained. “Perhaps I’d better help you get the air out of your mattress.” He walked over to the beds, loosened the valves, and slowly rolled up the sleeping bags, letting the air escape.
“You like this life, don’t you?” Marion asked.
“Love it.”
“But it’s hard work, isn’t it?”
“Oh, off and on. But it’s nice work. It’s the only way I can afford to hang around the country as much as I’d like to. Sort of a vacation.”
“I see.”
“Sleep all right last night?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You would. You were taking the ride all right yesterday. You’re used to Western-saddle trail riding.”
She became conscious of the curious interrogation in his eyes and knew suddenly that this was no casual questioning, but a well-planned examination which probably linked in with the three-way conference at the campfire last night.
“Yes, I’ve done some mountain riding,” she said, and calmly turned away and began packing her personal belongings.
Thereafter Marion avoided Howard Kenney...
When camp had been broken and all but the last two horses loaded, Hank Lucas approached his dudes.
“Kenney can finish throwing the packs, with the help of the cook, and bring the string along,” Lucas said. “I want to move on ahead and pick out a good campsite. If you folks would like to come along with me, you can save a little time.”
“That’ll be fine,” Marion said.
“Wait a minute,” Dewitt interposed cautiously. “How do you propose to make this extra time? As I see it, the packtrain will be ready to start in ten or fifteen minutes.”
“There’s quite a bit of smooth trail ahead,” Hank said. “We can put the horses in a trot.”
“In a trot!” Corliss Adrian exclaimed in dismay.
Hank grinned. “Don’t appeal to you, eh?”
“If it makes any difference to the others, I’ll be only too glad to go along,” Corliss said with dignity, “but if it doesn’t, I think I’d prefer to walk my horse. However, you’re in charge, and I’ll do as you say.”
Dewitt stepped into the situation. “You two go right ahead,” he said. “Take all the time you want. We’ll come along with the pack string. After all, we’ve got all day. Our time isn’t that valuable.”
Lucas glanced at Marion.
She nodded.
“Okay. Let’s go,” Lucas said. He took his chaps off the horn of the saddle, buckled them around his waist, fastened the snaps under his legs, put on his spurs, and swung into the saddle.
They started out at a brisk trot. There was a wide valley to skirt where another stream came into the Middle Fork. It took a detour of nearly three miles to bring them back opposite the mouth of the canyon on the other side of the stream. The horses splashed through a ford, followed relatively level going for three-quarters of a mile, and then started an abrupt climb.