ne-textured lady's riding habit. Both were immediately conscious of
the guide's stare, and Virginia was aware of a distinct embarrassment.
Something, somewhere, had evidently gone wrong. Lounsbury took refuge
in hauteur.

"Well?" he demanded icily.

"Excuse me," Bill replied. "But those aren't--are those the clothes
you're going to wear on the trip?"

"We're not parading for any one's benefit, I hope," was the sarcastic
answer. "These are our rough clothes. Have you any objections to 'em?"

The guide's eyes puckered about the corners. "No, sir--not any
objections--and they'd be all right for a day or two--until bad
weather. But they are hardly the togs for the North. What you want is
a good pair of slicker pants, both of you, and plenty of wool inside.
Also a rubber coat of some kind, over sheepskin. In the first good snow
those clothes would just melt away. If you'll come with me, I'll help
you lay in some--and I'll pack 'em right on one of the horses for the
time of need. There's a store adjoining the hotel----"

Virginia's confusion had departed, giving way to mirth, but Lounsbury
was swollen and purple with wrath. "You--you----" he began. His face
grew crafty. "I suppose you get a commission on every garment you
sell."

Bill turned rather quiet eyes on the man; and for one little instant the
craven that dwelt under Lounsbury's skin told him he had said one
sentence too many; but he took heart when Bill looked away. "I'll keep
what I've got on," he announced. "I'm not used to being told what kind
of clothes to wear. Virginia, we'll start on."

"Wait just a minute, Uncle," the girl replied coolly. She turned to
Bill. "You say these won't do at all?"

"They'll be torn off of you in the brush, Miss Tremont. And they won't
turn the cold and the snow, either. This is the North, you know."

"Then I, for one, am going to take your advice. Please help me pick out
the things, Bronson."

They left Lounsbury fuming in the road, and they had a rather enjoyable
ten minutes searching through Fargo's stock for suitable garb. He
selected a pair of slicker pants to wear over riding trousers, a coat
lined with sheepskin, boy's size, and an awkwardly made but effective
rubber coat for outside wear when the snow lay on the branches. It was
not, Virginia decided, quite like choosing gowns at her modiste's; yet
she was bright-eyed and laughing at the end.

Bill unhitched a pack, inserted the bundle of