ly. But the Indian felt that he had returned
thanks with proper dignity, and submitted in a sort of contented, stoic
indifference while Dick roughly bound up the worst of his cuts and
scratches.

Gratitude is a feeling somewhat difficult to awaken in the heart of the
Red Man; but when once it is aroused, it is deep and binding. The
adventure with the "lucifee" was a fresh tie between the two lads, and
they proceeded on their way in greater good-fellowship than ever.

Through all the splendour of wild forest and deep ravine, Peter led the
way, straight north-west, stopping for nothing. And so great was his
ascendancy over Dick, that the English boy never questioned his
leadership, or even asked definitely where they were going. In the
wilds the Indian was supreme, and his speed, endurance, and skill were
dominant. Dick relied upon him almost blindly, and was content to
follow where he led.

The life at the homestead seemed a thing of the past, part of some
other state of existence, so intense a hold had the wilderness upon
Dick's mind. But the thought of Stephanie was real and living, the
only point of pain in his present lot; and this pain he put aside as
much as possible, together with all worry as to the future. "I made my
choice," he said to himself, "and there's an end of it. I know it was
pretty hard on Steenie, but here I am, and what's the use of worrying?"
Minds of his type are convinced of error only by stern measures, and
Dick showed a great deal of argumentative skill in assuring himself
that he had been perfectly justified in escaping from the bonds of
humdrum toil which had grown so unendurable. He knew that he had
proved himself weak and lacking in gratitude, nevertheless; but the
knowledge had not yet touched his heart to any keener sense of
wrong-doing.

Straight northwestward they went, through gradually changing country,
and all the subtle passage of the weeks was heralded to them by new
flowers, new streams, new lands of wonder. The wild strawberries
ripened, and the last violets died. The raspberry canes were heavy
with fruit, and the spots where they grew best were much favoured by
brown bears, big and little. White lilies shone upon the pools and the
still reaches of the small rivers. And still, through all the shifting
moods of the year, they hurried on, never resting, never turning aside,
but always keeping up the same unvarying rate of speed.

Where was Peter Many-Names going?