ble thing he had created. He laboured throughout the daylight
hours. At night he sat about, where his dogs were secured, gazing deep
into its ruddy heart, dreaming his dreams till bodily weariness overcame
him, and he sank into slumbers that yielded him still more precious
visions.

It was all so simple. It was all so real and human. The cares of life
left Marcel untouched. The bitter conditions of the outlands passed him
by without one thought to mar his enjoyment of being. Life was a perfect
thing that held no shadows, and for him it was lit by the sunshine of
eyes the thought of which sent the hot blood surging through his veins
till the madness of his longing found him yearning to embrace the whole
wide world in his powerful arms.

It was with all these undimmed feelings stirring that he took up his
customary position before his great signal fire at the close of a
laborious day. He had eaten. He had fed his vicious trail dogs and left
them for the night. His blankets and his sleeping-bag lay spread out
ready to receive him. And the old, sightless moose gazed out in its
silent, never-ceasing vigil.

Night shut down with a stillness that must have been maddening to a less
preoccupied mind. The perfect night sky shone coldly with the burnish of
its million stars. The blazing northern lights plodded their ghostly
measure with the sedateness of the ages through which they had endured,
while the youth sat on unstirring, smoking his pipe of perfect peace.
They were moments such as Marcel would never know again. For all the
waiting his happiness was well-nigh perfect.

His pipe went out. It was re-lit in the contemplative fashion of habit.
A whimper from the slumbering dogs left him indifferent. Only when the
flames of his fire grew less did he bestir himself. A great
replenishment and his final task was completed.

Again he returned to his seat. But it was not for long. Tired nature was
making herself felt. She was claiming him in the drooping eyelids, in
the nodding head. And her final demand came in the fall of his pipe from
the grip of his powerful jaws. He passed across to his blankets.

* * * * *

A thunderous crash from the depths below and Marcel was wide awake
again. He was sitting up in the shelter of his fur bag with eyes alight
with question. He was alert, with the ready wakefulness which is the
habit of the trail. That crash! It was----

But he quickly returned to his res