in deference, an abject humility was as
fitting to a man of wealth and position. These northern people,
however, didn't seem to know how to fawn. They were courteous enough,
gave good service, but were inclined to speak to him as man to
man,--an inference of equality that he regarded with great displeasure.
His nephew's penniless fiancee, instead of himself, received all the
attentions. Even the burly ruffian who was to guide them looked at her
as if she were an angel.

The girl's voice rang over the table. "What's worrying you now, Uncle?"
she asked.

Lounsbury looked up angrily. "What's worrying me now is--that I was
such a fool as to come up into this country at the approach of winter.
I don't like the place, and I don't like the people, and I abominate the
service! Fancy eating on these great, thick plates for a month! I
don't trust that big outlaw who is going to take us into the woods,
either. Virginia, I have a distinct premonition of disaster."

"I rather think--that we'll be glad enough to have any china plates at
all before we get back. And Mr. Bronson----"

"By the way, don't call him _Mr._ Bronson. You must learn to teach
these beggars their places. Call him just Bronson. You'll get twice
the service."

"Yes, Uncle. I was just going to say that he seemed very trustworthy.
And it's hardly--well, the sporting thing to become discouraged so
soon."

All through the journey so far this had been Lounsbury's one
satisfaction--that he was doing the sporting thing. He knew perfectly
that many of his business associates, many of his city's great whom
he would have been flattered to know, came up into these gloomy
forests every year in pursuit of big game; and he had heard of
enduring hardships in a "sporting" way. But the term was already
threadbare,--and the journey only commenced. The reason went back to
the simple fact that Lounsbury was not a sportsman and never could be,
that the red corpuscle content in his blood was wholly within the law.

Yes, Virginia felt at a disadvantage. This man's money had financed the
trip; the fortune her own father had left had been almost depleted from
reverses resulting from the war, and only the most meager sort of an
income--according to her standards--was left. An orphan, she had
always looked up to her fiance's uncle as her guardian and adviser; to
see signs of discouragement in him now was a serious blow to her.

She had been somewhat surprised, in