hen seating himself in a big chair, he ran his
fingers through his crisp iron-grey hair.

He was a raw-boned, powerfully built man who seemed by nature the beau
ideal for the healing of a race of savages who regard disease as
inevitable, a visitation by the powers of evil, and something which must
be submitted to in patience lest worse befall. Almost brusque of manner,
forceful, he was as strong and kindly of heart as he was skilful. He was
a product of the best Scottish school of medicine, and one of those rare
souls whose whole desire in life is the relief of human suffering.
Fortune had favoured him very practically. He had ample private means
which enabled him to accept the paltry salary the Government offered him
to take charge of a herd of its coloured children up on the Caribou
River. Furthermore he had had the good fortune to marry a Canadian woman
whose whole heart was wrapped up in him and his life's purpose.

So these two, with their two young children, had made their way north.
The man had set up an ample, even luxurious home on the confines of the
reserve, and they had settled down to battle with the exterminating
diseases, which, since the civilizing process set in, the Indian seems
to have become heir to. So far the battle had raged, for ten years, and
it looked likely to last far beyond Ian Ross's lifetime.

Whatever other successes and failures he had had during that time he had
achieved an affection from his patients quite as great as the hatred
achieved by Hervey Garstaing in less than half that number of years.

The plump round figure of Millie Ross rustled into the hall.

"Where's Dora?"

The man's question came without turning from the sunlit view beyond the
doorway. A wonderful stretch of undulating wood-clad country lay spread
out before him. It was a waste of virgin territory chequered with
woodland bluffs, with here and there the rigid Indian teepee poles
supporting their rawhide dwellings, peeping out from all sorts of
natural shelters.

"Dora? Why, Dora's over with Nita Allenwood. That child spends most of
her time there now."

Millie's cheerful, easy manner was perhaps the greatest blessing of Ian
Ross's life. Her happy good temper spoke of a perfectly healthy body,
and a mind full of a pleasant humour.

Dr. Ross withdrew a timepiece from his pocket.

"Now?" he cried. "Oh, you mean because of Steve's going off on the long
trail. Five days isn't it before he goes?" He chuckled in h