times he felt the goodness of being alive, the
mild intoxication of the fragrant air which filled the valley, the
majestic beauty of those insentient hills upon which the fierce
midsummer sun was baring glacial patches that gleamed now like blue
diamonds or again with a pale emerald sheen, in a setting of worn
granite and white snowdrifts five thousand feet above.

In this wilderness, this vast region of forest and streams and wild
mountain ranges, men were infinitesimal specks hurrying here and there
about their self-appointed tasks. Those like himself and Doris, who
did not mind the privations inseparable from that remoteness, fared
well enough. The land held out to them manifold promises. Hollister
looked at the red-brown shingle bolts accumulating behind the
boom-sticks and felt that inner satisfaction which comes of success
achieved by plan and labor. If his mutilated face had been capable of
expression, it would have reflected pride, satisfaction. Out of the
apparent wreckage of his life he was laying the foundations of
something permanent, something abiding, an enduring source of good. He
would tangle his fingers in Doris' brown hair and feel glad.

Then perhaps his eyes would shift downstream to where Bland's stark,
weather-beaten cabin lifted its outline against the green thickets,
and he would think uneasily upon what insecure tenure, upon what
deliberate violation of law and of current morality he held his
dearest treasure. What would she think, if she knew, this dainty
creature cuddling against his knee? He would wake in the night and lie
on elbow staring at her face in the moonlight,--delicate-skinned as a
child's, that lovable, red-lipped mouth, those dear, blind eyes which
sometimes gave him the illusion of seeing clearly out of their gray
depths.

What would she think? What would she, say? What would she do? He did
not know. It troubled him to think of this. If he could have swept
Myra out of North America with a wave of his hand, he would have made
one sweeping gesture. He was jealous of his happiness, his security,
and Myra's presence was not only a reminder; it had the effect upon
him of a threat he could not ignore.

Yet he was compelled to ignore it. She and Doris had become fast
friends. It all puzzled Hollister very much sometimes. Except for the
uprooting, the undermining influences of his war experience, he would
have been revolted at his own actions. He had committed technical
bigamy. His