"And I guess we'd need to hand them over to the
missionary for a while. But Doc Ross and his wife were crazy to look
after them. You see, they've a pretty swell place, and they're the best
folks I know. I left them with them, and I'd say we can't do better,
anyway for a while."

"Yes," McDowell agreed. "It'll make things easy. I'll put that into a
letter to the Commissioner and it'll save worrying with the folk of the
Indian Department. Well, so long, Steve. Yes, I'll take these letters,
and put the thing through for you. But when you quit, for God's sake
don't go and mess things. Don't queer one of the best lives it's ever
been my good fortune to have under my command."

Steve's eyes were serious as he watched McDowell move towards the door.

"Don't worry, sir. The queering's done already. Whatever I do will
be--well, just what I've fixed to do. No more and no less."

CHAPTER XIII

"ADRESOL"

The horrible aroma of a gently smouldering smudge fire, battling with
invading mosquitoes; the pleasant smell of tobacco, adding to the
enjoyment of the crisp Northern air; the resplendent sunset, slashing a
broken sky with a sea of multitudinous colours, and lighting a prospect
of verdant woods at the foot of a line of distant hills; a wide,
sheltered stoop with deep-seated rocking-chairs; these things were the
key to the deeper recesses of the hearts of men who have learned to play
the great game of life upon the lonely wastes of a Northern world.

Ian Ross raised a warning finger as the sounds of laughter came from
some distant part of the house behind him. There was a child's laughter,
fresh, happy, and the light laugh of a woman, who has learned, through
her own, the perfect happiness which childhood can inspire in those
whose instincts remain unimpaired.

"Do you need to ask me?" he said, in reply to the other's question.
"That kiddie is just crazy with happiness--so's Millie. Guess she'll be
down along after awhile, when she's quit fooling with him in his bath."

Steve breathed deeply, and his far gazing eyes rested unblinkingly upon
the sunset of a myriad hues. The reek of tobacco hung upon the still
air, and the light veil of smoke from the "smudge" sailed gently across
the view beyond the veranda.

He was full healed now--outwardly. There was little change in him as he
sat back in his deep rocker on the veranda of Ian Ross's house at
Deadwater. His steady eyes looked out with their uncompromising
dire