t the flat. He chose tentatively a site for their house, close by
a huge maple which had three sets of initials cut deeply in the bark
where Doris told him to look.

Then he dragged the canoe down to the river, and slid it afloat and
let the current bear him down. The air was full of pleasant odors from
the enfolding forest. He let his eyes rest thankfully upon those calm,
majestic peaks that walled in the valley. It was even more beautiful
now than he had imagined it could be when the snow blanketed hill and
valley, and the teeth of the frost gnawed everywhere. It was less
aloof; it was as if the wilderness wore a smile and beckoned with
friendly hands.

The current and his paddle swept him down past the settlement, past a
busy, grunting sawmill, past the booming ground where brown logs
floated like droves of sheep in a yard, and he came at last to where
his woodsmen waited with the piled goods on a bank above tidewater.

All the rest of that day, and for many days thereafter, Hollister was
a busy man. There was a pile of goods to be transported up-stream, a
house to be fashioned out of raw material from the forest, the
shingle-bolt chute to be inspected and repaired, the work of cutting
cedar to be got under way, all in due order. He became a voluntary
slave to work, clanking his chains of toil with that peculiar pleasure
which comes to men who strain and sweat toward a desired end. As
literally as his hired woodsmen, he earned his bread in the sweat of
his brow, spurred on by a vision of what he sought to create,--a home
and so much comfort as he could grasp for himself and a woman.

The house arose as if by magic,--the simple magic of stout arms and
skilled hands working with axe and saw and iron wedges. One of
Hollister's men was a lean, saturnine logger, past fifty, whose life
had been spent in the woods of the Pacific Coast. There was no trick
of the axe Hayes had not mastered, and he could perform miracles of
shaping raw wood with neat joints and smooth surfaces.

Two weeks from the day Hayes struck his axe blade into the brown trunk
of a five-foot cedar and said laconically, "She'll do", that ancient
tree had been transformed into timbers, into boards that flaked off
smooth and straight under iron wedges, into neat shakes for a
rain-tight roof, and was assembled into a two-roomed cabin. This was
furnished with chairs and tables and shelves, hewn out of the raw
stuff of the forest. It stood in the middle of