creek,
was lost to all sight and sound other than the strange scene enacted at
the store. Once or twice he had spoken, but it was more to himself than
to Davia, for he was engrossed by what he beheld.

But now, as he saw the man rush with frantic haste and disappear within
the woods, he thought of the wealth of skins within the burning house.
He was a trapper, and, to his thinking, the loss was irreparable. He
loved the rich furs of the North as any woman loves her household goods.
As for the store, that was little to him except that Victor was now
punished even beyond his, Jean's, hopes. He knew that the trader was
ruined. For the rest it would be as it always was in the wild. The
valley would simply go back to its primordial condition.

But he watched Victor curiously. He saw him stand out before the wreck
of his store, and a world of despair and dejection was in his attitude.
A mighty bitterness was in the great Jean's heart for the man he gazed
upon, and a sense of triumphant joy flashed through him at the sight.

"See," he said, without turning from his contemplation, and pointing
with one arm outstretched. "He's paid, an' paid bad. The teachin's come
to him. Maybe he's learned."

There was no reply, and he went on.

"Maybe he's wishin' he'd treated you right, Davi'. Maybe he'd gi'
something to marry you now. Maybe. Wal, he's had his chance an' throw'd
it." There was an impressive pause. Presently Jean spoke again. "Guess
we'll be gittin' on soon. The mission's a good place fer wimmin as
hasn't done well in the world, I reckon. An' the Peace River's nigh to a
garden. I 'lows Father Lefleur's a straight man, an'll set you on the
right trail, Davi'. Yes, I guess we'll be gettin' on."

Still there was no answer.

Suddenly the giant swung round and looked at the spot where Davia had
been standing. She had vanished.

And Jean, solemn-eyed as any moose, stared stupidly at the place where
her feet had rested. He stood long without moving, and slowly thought
straightened itself out in his uncouth brain. He began to understand.
The complexity of a woman's character had been an unknown quantity to
him. But he was no further from understanding them than any other man.
Now an inner consciousness told him that the punishment of Victor had
been the undoing of his schemes. Davia had seen the trader bereft of
all, homeless, penniless; and she had gone to him.

He turned back at last and looked towards the store; it was