ing.

Jessie moved slowly off in the direction of her home. Half-way across
the clearing she paused. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she turned
away and passed down the narrow avenue which led to the landing on the
river. There was an hour to supper. The twilight of her home was less
attractive now than the music of the river, which had so often borne
the burden of Allan Mowbray's laden canoes.

Jessie had lost none of her youthful grace of movement. Her tall
figure, so round with the charms of womanhood, yet so supple, so full
of natural, unfettered grace, made her a delight to the eye. Her
beauty was unquestioned. But the change in her expression was marked.
Her ripe young lips were firmer, harder even. There was, too, a slight
down drooping at the corners of her mouth. Then her eyes had lost
something of their inclination to smile. They were the grave eyes of
one who has passed through an age of suffering.

She moved swiftly to the landing and took up a position on one of the
timber balks set for mooring. She drew her coat about her. The dying
sun lit her ruddy brown hair with its wintry smile, and the song of the
flowing waters caught and lulled her spirit.

Murray McTavish approached her. He came with bristling step and an air
of virile energy. He dragged forward an empty crate, and, setting it
near her, used it for a seat.

She withdrew her gaze from the glacial field beyond the river, and
looked into the man's smiling eyes, as he greeted her.

"There's just about two things liable to hold a young girl sitting
around on the bank of the Snake River, with a spring breeze coming down
off the glacier. One of them's dreams, the sort of romance that don't
belong to these latitudes."

"And the other?"

"Mostly foolishness."

There was no offence in the man's manner. Jessie was forced to smile.
His words were so characteristic.

"Then I guess it's foolishness with me," she said.

"That's how I figgered when I saw you making this way, just as I was
leaving the store. Say, that coat's mighty thin. Where's your fur--if
you have to sit around here?"

Murray's eyes surveyed the long cloth coat doubtfully.

The girl shook her head.

"I'm not cold."

A sharp, splitting crack, followed by a dull, echoing boom drew the
eyes of both towards the precipitous bank across the river. The great
glacial field had already awakened from its long winter sleep. Once
more it was the living giant of cou