xperienced in the past. It had lifted him at a bound
to that pinnacle of manhood, which until the moment when woman presents
herself upon youth's stage of life can never be reached.

Every pre-conceived object in life had suddenly been brushed aside by
the exhilaration of the moment. The subdued colours of his horizon had
been completely overwhelmed by the new radiance. Even Uncle Steve, that
precious guide and friend, who had always occupied the central place in
his focus, had almost been forgotten.

For Keeko, too, whose youth had been shadowed from the moment
understanding had broken through the golden mists of childhood's
dream-world, a new meaning to life had been born. She made no attempt to
look ahead, and the shadows of the past had no power whatever to rob her
of one moment of chaste delight. All she knew, or cared, was that,
almost on the instant, the personality of something over six feet of
manhood had taken possession of her will. And, with that splendid
abandon which generous nature mercifully ordains for youth, she yielded
herself to the ecstasy of it.

Keeko was resting upon a fallen tree-trunk. It had been torn up by the
roots and flung headlong by the merciless fury of a winter storm. Marcel
was standing beside her. The way had been long, but there was no real
weariness in either. They had simply paused at their journey's end to
survey the great gorge lying at their feet. In the heart of it lay the
highway that came up out of the south.

It was a scene of crude immensity which left all life infinitesimal. The
barren of it suggested the body of Nature gnawed to the bone, picked
clean of the fair flesh with which it is her wont to distract the eyes
and senses of man. There lay a frowning, rock-bound chasm at their feet,
and deep down in the heart of it a broad, sluggish stream. The two
youthful figures were gazing out across the gaping lips at the far-off,
distant hills rising up in defence of the secrets of the Northern seas
of snow and ice.

For some moments they sat in silence before the might and mystery of
that untrodden world. Awe lurked in the eyes of both. It was that awe of
the Northland which breeds terror in the weak, and only the strong may
survive.

Marcel broke the spell of it. He laughed with a quiet confidence that
found no echo in the girl's heart.

"It's pretty darn big," he said, with something almost like contempt in
his tone. "But it pays us--toll. I--a man. And you--why, you