nd the sweetest, prettiest little
thing in the world when her eyes are open." As he continued to stare at
her in astonishment while their boats kept opposite each other, she added:
"You would have sooner expected to see me with a pet bear, or wolf,
wouldn't you?"

"Yes; I think I would," he confessed, and she drew the child closer and
kissed it and laughed happily.

"That is because you only know one side of me," she said.

The stars were thick overhead, and their clear light made the night
beautiful. When they reached the boats of Akkomi, only a short parley was
held, and then an Indian canoe darted out ahead of the others. Two dark
experts bent to the paddles and old Akkomi sat near the girl and the
child. Looking in their dusky faces, 'Tana realized more fully that she
was again in the land of the Kootenais.

It was just as she would have chosen to come back, and close against her
heart was pressed the message by which he had called her.

The child slept, but she and the old Indian talked now and then in low
tones all through the night. She felt no weariness. The air she breathed
was as a tonic against fatigue, and when the canoe veered to the left
and entered the creek leading to camp, she knew her journey was almost
over.

The dusk was yet over the land, a faint whiteness touched the eastern edge
of the night and told of the dawn to come, but it had not arrived.

The camp was wrapped in silence. Only the watch-man of the ore-sheds was
awake, and came tramping down to the shore when their paddles dipped in
the water and told him a boat was near. It was the man Saunders.

"Miss Rivers!" he exclaimed, incredulously. "Well, if this isn't luck!
Harris will about drop dead with joy when he sees you. He took worse just
after dark last night. He says he is worse, though he can talk yet. I was
with him a little while, and how he did worry because you wouldn't get
here before he was done for! Overton has been with him all night; went to
bed only an hour ago. I'll call the folks up for you."

"No," said the girl, hastily; "call no one yet. I will go to Joe if you
will take me. If he is so bad, that will be best. Let the rest sleep."

"Can I carry the--the baby?" he asked, doubtfully, and took the child in
his arms with a sort of fear lest it should break. He was not the sort of
man to be needlessly curious, so he showed no surprise at the rather
strange adjunct to her outfit, but carried the little sleeper into the