lived the only life that appealed to his primitive instincts and
powers. And before that he had never so much as peeped beyond the
watershed at the world outside. His whole life was instinct with
courage. His years had been years of struggle and happiness, years in
which a loyal and devoted wife had shared his every disappointment and
success, years in which he had watched his son and daughter grow to the
ripeness of full youth.

The whole life of these people was a simple enough story of passionate
energy, and a slow, steady-growing prosperity, built out of a
wilderness where a moment's weakness would have yielded them complete
disaster. But they were merciless upon their own powers. They knew
the stake, and played for all. The man played for the tiny lives which
had come to cheer his resting moments, and the defenceless woman who
had borne them. The woman supported him with a loyal devotion and
courage that was invincible.

For years Allan Mowbray had scoured the country in search of his trade.
His outfit was known to every remote Indian race, east and west, and
north--always north. His was a figure that haunted the virgin
woodlands, the broad rivers, the unspeakable wastes of silence at all
times and seasons. Even the world outside found an echo of his labors.

These two had fought their battle unaided from the grim shelter of Fort
Mowbray. And, in the clearing of St. Agatha's Mission, at the foot of
the bald knoll, upon the summit of which the old Fort stood, their
infrequent moments of leisure were spent in the staunch log hut which
the man had erected for the better comfort of his young children.

Then had come the greater prosperity. It was the time of a prosperity
upon which the simple-minded fur-hunter had never counted. The Fort
became a store for trade. It was no longer a mere headquarters where
furs were made ready for the market. Trade developed. Real trade.
And Allan was forced to change his methods. The work was no longer
possible single-handed. The claims of the trail suddenly increased,
and both husband and wife saw that their prospects had entirely
outgrown their calculations.

Forthwith long council was taken between them. Either the trail, with
its possibilities, which had suddenly become an enormous factor in
their lives, or the store at the Fort, which was almost equally
important, must be abandoned, or a partner must be found and taken.
Allan Mowbray was not the man to yiel