little Jessie. I want
it all--all. I wouldn't miss a second of its time. I watched the
first streak of the dawn, and I've seen the sun get up full of fire and
glory. And that's just how this day is to us. Think of it, little
girl, think of it. By noon you'll be my wife--my wife. And after,
after we've eaten, and Father Jose and Bill have said their pieces,
we'll be setting out down the river with all the folks we care for, for
a new, big, wide world, and the wide open trail of happiness waiting
for us. If it wasn't I'm holding you right now in my arms I guess
it--it would be incredible."

But the girl had suddenly remembered the possibility of prying eyes.
With obvious reluctance she released herself from the embrace she had
no desire to deny.

"Yes," she breathed, "it's almost--incredible." Then with a sudden
passionate abandon she held out her arms as though to embrace all that
which told her of her joy. "But it's real, real. I'm glad--so glad."

It was a scene which had for its inspiration a world of the gentler
human emotions.

The laden canoes had added their human freight. Each was manned by its
small dusky crew, Indians tried in the service of the long trail, men
of the Mission, and men who had learned to regard John Kars as a great
white chief. It was an expedition that had none of the grim
earnestness of the long trail. The dusky Indians, even, were imbued
with the spirit of the moment. Every one of these people had witnessed
the wonderful ceremonial of a white man's mating, the whole Mission had
been feasted on white man's fare. Now the landing was thronged for the
departure. Women, and men, and children. They were gathered there for
the final Godspeed.

Peigan Charley was consumed with his authority over the vessels which
led the way, bearing the baggage of the party. He was part of the
white man's life, therefore his contempt for the simple awe of the rest
of his race, at the witnessing of the wedding ceremony, still claimed
his profoundest "damn-fool." Never were his feelings of superiority
more deeply stirred.

Bill Brudenell piloted the vessel which bore Ailsa Mowbray towards the
new life for which she had renounced her old home. Kars and his bride
were the last in the procession, as the vessels swept out into the
stream under the powerful strokes of the paddles.

It was an unforgetable moment for all. For the women it had perhaps an
even deeper meaning than for any one else