th so rich a bloom and so sweet a
perfume as in the canyon."

For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, while her
lip trembled:

"There are no flowers in my canyon, but only ragged rocks."

"Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; He will find them, and we, too,
shall see them."

Then he said good-by and took me away. He had done his work that day.

We rode through the big gate, down the sloping hill, past the smiling,
twinkling little lake, and down again out of the broad sunshine into
the shadows and soft lights of the canyon. As we followed the trail
that wound among the elms and cedars, the very air was full of gentle
stillness; and as we moved we seemed to feel the touch of loving hands
that lingered while they left us, and every flower and tree and vine
and shrub and the soft mosses and the deep-bedded ferns whispered, as we
passed, of love and peace and joy.

To The Duke it was all a wonder, for as the days shortened outside they
brightened inside; and every day, and more and more Gwen's room became
the brightest spot in all the house, and when he asked The Pilot:

"What did you do to the Little Princess, and what's all this about the
canyon and its flowers?" The Pilot said, looking wistfully into The
Duke's eyes:

"The fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness,
goodness, faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these are found
only in the canyon," and The Duke, standing up straight, handsome and
strong, looked back at The Pilot and said, putting out his hand:

"Do you know, I believe you're right."

"Yes, I'm quite sure," answered The Pilot, simply. Then, holding The
Duke's hand as long as one man dare hold another's, he added: "When you
come to your canyon, remember."

"When I come!" said The Duke, and a quick spasm of pain passed over his
handsome face--"God help me, it's not too far away now." Then he smiled
again his old, sweet smile, and said:

"Yes, you are all right, for, of all flowers I have seen, none are
fairer or sweeter than those that are waving in Gwen's Canyon."

CHAPTER XIV

BILL'S BLUFF

The Pilot had set his heart upon the building of a church in the Swan
Creek district, partly because he was human and wished to set a mark
of remembrance upon the country, but more because he held the sensible
opinion, that a congregation, as a man, must have a home if it is to
stay.

All through the summer he kept setting this as an object a