ax he had put the potatoes and bit
of pork he intended for dinner in a tin pail and buried it in hot ashes
to slowly cook. When he came back late in the afternoon, cold and tired
and hungry, he opened the pail and found it full of cinders. The heat
had been too great. For the first time he lost heart, and starting up,
with what daylight remained, made his way to Magarth's, where supper and
a welcome awaited him. The daughter having been back for some time, he
had given up his Saturday visits. She was big and plump, and like her
father voluble and fond of a joke. When all the others had retired for
the night, Magarth and Archie sat by the fire. Magarth guessed how it
was going with Archie and told him he could not stand out the winter.
Then, with kindly humor, he gave Archie to understand that if he and
Norah would make it up, he would take him as a partner in his business,
which was growing too large for him to manage alone. Archie was
astounded, making no reply beyond thanking him for the hint. When he
turned into a bunk in the corner of the store he was so tired that he
fell asleep and dreamt not of Norah but of the daily misery he was
enduring.

In the morning Archie rose and, without waking anybody, slipped out and
made his way to his comfortless shanty. Those who love the forest know
in how many tones it speaks, varying with the season and the force of
the wind. When in full leaf and swayed by a summer breeze the sound is
of falling water, of a phantom Niagara; in the winter, when the trees
are bare, the Northwest blast shrieks through their tops and there are
groanings diversified by sharp cries as some decayed branch is snapped
or tree falls. It was amid these doleful sounds Archie swung his ax. He
was not conscious of the bitter cold for his work kept him warm, but his
brain was full of racking thoughts. He had toiled like a slave for nigh
six months and had accomplished little, with every imaginable
deprivation he had saved nothing, and for the next six months he foresaw
cold and hunger, which he doubted he could survive. Here was an offer
that meant comfort, and relief from a penniless condition. Should he not
accept it? Was it not selfishness that whispered his doing so? Did he
not come to these woods to hew out from the heart of them a home for
those he loved? Was he going to throw up his purpose to benefit himself?
Would that be right? There was a whisper, You will be able to help them
by sending money. Is