d man pointed down the road.

"It's a woman," he said, and there was a curious look in his eyes.

The muffled figure was more than a hundred and fifty yards away, but still
laboriously stumbling along the snow-bound trail toward them.

Before Seth could find a reply another "Coo-ee" reached them, followed
quickly by some words that were blurred by the distance. Seth started. The
voice had a curiously familiar sound. He glanced at Rube, and the old
man's face wore a look of grinning incredulity.

"Sounds like----" Seth began to speak but broke off.

"Gee! Come on!" cried Rube, in a boisterous tone. "It's Rosebud!"

The two men hastened forward. Rube's announcement seemed incredible. How
could it be Rosebud--and on foot? The surface of the trail gave way under
their feet at almost every step. But they were undeterred. Slush or ice,
deep snow or floundering in water holes, it made no difference. It was a
race for that muffled figure, and Rube was an easy winner. When Seth came
up he found the bundle of furs in the bear-like embrace of the older man.
It was Rosebud!

Questions raced through Seth's brain as he looked on, panting with the
exertion his enfeebled frame had been put to. How? Why? What was the
meaning of it all? But his questions remained unspoken. Nor was he left in
doubt long. Rosebud laughing, her wonderful eyes dancing with an
inexpressible delight, released herself and turned to Seth. Immediately
her face fell as she looked on the shadow of a man standing before her.

"Why, Seth," she cried, in a tone of great pity and alarm that deceived
even Rube, "what's the matter that you look so ill?" She turned swiftly
and flashed a meaning look into Rube's eyes. "What is it? Quick! Oh, you
two sillies, tell me! Seth, you've been ill, and you never told me!"

Slow of wit, utterly devoid of subterfuge as Rube was, for once he grasped
the situation.

"Why, gal, it's jest nothin'. Seth's been mighty sick, but he's right
enough now, ain't you, Seth, boy?"

"Sure."

Seth had nothing to add, but he held out his hand, and the girl seized it
in both of hers, while her eyes darkened to an expression which these men
failed to interpret, but which Ma Sampson could have read aright. Seth
cleared his throat, and his dark eyes gazed beyond the girl and down the
trail.

"How'd you come, Rosie?" he asked practically. "You ain't traipsed from
Beacon?"

Suddenly the girl's laugh rang out. It was the old irresponsible la