ince the passing of the days when it
had been necessary to share in the labors of her husband. The simple
goal of her life had been a home of comfort for her growing children,
and a wealth of hospitality for those who cared to taste of it.

The long winter night had already set in, and she was seated before the
stove in a heavy rocking-chair. Her busy fingers were plying her
needle, a work she loved in spite of the hard training of her early
days in the north. At the other side of the glowing stove Jessie was
reading one of the books with which Father Jose kept her supplied. The
wind was moaning desolately about the house. The early snowfall was
being drifted into great banks in the hollows. Up on the hilltop,
where the stockade of the Fort frowned out upon the world, the moaning
was probably translated into a tense, steady howl.

The mother glanced at the clock which stood on the bureau near by. It
was nearly seven. Alec would be in soon from his work up at the store,
that hour of work which he faced so reluctantly after the evening meal
had been disposed of. In half an hour, too, Father Jose would be
coming up from the Mission. She was glad. It would help to keep her
from thinking.

She sighed and glanced quickly over at her daughter. Jessie was poring
over her book. The sight of such absorption raised a certain feeling
of irritation in the mother. It seemed to her that Jessie could too
easily throw off the trouble besetting them all. She did not know that
the girl was fighting her own battle in her own way. She did not know
that her interest in her book was partly feigned. Nor was she aware
that the girl's effort was not only for herself, but to help the mother
she was unconsciously offending.

The anxious waiting for Murray's return had been well-nigh unbearable.
These people, all the folk on Snake River, knew the dangers and chances
of the expedition. Confidence in Murray was absolute, but still it
left a wide margin for disaster. They had calculated to the finest
fraction the time that must elapse before his return. Three weeks was
the minimum, and the three weeks had already terminated three nights
ago. It was this which had set the mother's nerves on edge. It was
this knowledge which kept Jessie's eyes glued to the pages of her book.
It was this which made the contemplation of the later gathering of the
men in that living-room a matter for comparative satisfaction to Ailsa
Mowbray.

H