etter than gophers to hunt, eh?"

"Yes--wolves! Where we go?"

"We go back to the Sleepers--and the old fort."

Steve searched the child's face anxiously as he made the announcement.
He was half afraid of a lingering memory that might jeopardize his
plans, or, at least make their fulfilment more difficult. But he need
have had no fear. The child remembered, but only with delight. And again
the man recognized the guiding hand of the squaw.

"Oo-o, Uncle! Soon? We go soon?" Marcel cried, his eyes shining. "The
forests where the wolves are. And the Sleepers. And the snow comes down,
and we dig ourselves out. And the dogs, and sleds, and--we go soon--very
soon! Can't we go now? Oo-o!"

"Not now, but--soon."

Steve's satisfaction was in the glance of thanks which he flashed into
An-ina's watching eyes.

"But now I must really go along to the house, old fellow," he said, with
a sigh. "Guess boy'll come, too, or maybe he'll go on with his game?"

The question was superfluous. Gopher hunting was a glorious sport, but
walking hand in hand with Uncle Steve back to the house, even though bed
and a bath were awaiting him, was a delight Marcel had no idea of
renouncing.

* * * * *

The plump figure of Millie Ross half filled the doorway, while the
sunset sought out the obscure corners of the comfortably furnished hall
place behind her.

The doctor's great figure was supported on the table on which he had
flung his hat while he welcomed Steve. The latter's arrival had been
quite unheralded, completely unexpected. So long was it since his going
that husband and wife had almost abandoned the thought that some day
they would be called upon to render an account of their stewardship with
regard to young Marcel, and hand over the little human "capital"
originally entrusted to them. It was not to be wondered at. They loved
the boy. They had their two girls, but they had no son. And
Marcel--well, Steve was so long overdue, and his absence had been one
long, unbroken silence. So, all unconsciously, they had come to think
that something had happened, something which had caused him to change
his mind, or which had made it physically impossible for him to return.
Now, after the first warmth and delight of the meeting had passed, a
certain pre-occupation restrained the buoyancy so natural to the
warm-hearted pair.

Steve was seated in the chair beside the table, the chair which the
doctor was wont to