knew she could not hope for so much.
There was nothing for him here. Besides, he was wedded to the secrets
of the long trail.

Wedded! Her moment, of regret passed, and a great dream filled her
simple mind. It was her woman's dream of all that could ever crown her
life. It was the springtime of her life and all the buoyant hope of
the break from a dead winter was stirring in her young veins. She put
from her mind the "passing on," and remembered only that he would soon
return.

Her heart was full of a gentle delight as at last she turned back from
the river, and sought her home in the clearing.

Her eyes were shining radiantly when she encountered Father Jose
passing over to his Mission from his ministrations to a sick squaw.

"Been watching the old ice go?" he inquired, smiling into the eyes
which looked into his from under the wide brim of a waterproof hat.

Jessie nodded.

"It's spring--isn't it?" she said smiling.

Her reply summed up her whole mood. The priest understood.

"Surely. And it's good to see the spring, my child. It's good for
everybody, young and old. But," he added with a sigh, "it's specially
good for us up here. The Indians die like flies in winter. But your
mother's asking for you."

The girl hurried on. Perhaps second to her love for John Kars came her
affection for her brave mother.

Ailsa Mowbray met her at the threshold.

"Murray's asking for you," she said, in her simply direct fashion.
"He's got plans and things he needs to fix. He told me this morning,
but I guess he needs to explain them himself. Will you go along up to
the Fort?"

There was nothing in the mother's manner to invite the quick look of
doubt which her words inspired.

Murray had only arrived from Leaping Horse two days before. Since that
time he had been buried under an avalanche of arrears of work. Even
his meals had had to be sent up to him at the Fort. He had brought
back reports of Alec's well-being for the mother and sister. He had
brought back all that abounding good-nature and physical and mental
energy which dispelled the last shadows of winter loneliness from these
women. Ailsa Mowbray had carried on the easy work of winter at the
store, but she was glad of the relief from responsibility which
Murray's return gave her.

But he had laid before her the necessity of a flying visit up country
at once, and had urged her to again carry on the store duties in his
absence. Furthermore he