ission to go down the creek several miles to Siwash
Pete's cabin. Pete's wife, a Stewart River woman, had sent up word that
something was wrong with her baby, and Lashka, who was pre-eminently a
mother-woman and who held herself to be truly wise in the matter of
infantile troubles, missed no opportunity of nursing the children of
other women as yet more fortunate than she.

Pentfield harnessed his dogs, and with Lashka behind took the trail down
the creek bed of Bonanza. Spring was in the air. The sharpness had gone
out of the bite of the frost and though snow still covered the land, the
murmur and trickling of water told that the iron grip of winter was
relaxing. The bottom was dropping out of the trail, and here and there a
new trail had been broken around open holes. At such a place, where
there was not room for two sleds to pass, Pentfield heard the jingle of
approaching bells and stopped his dogs.

A team of tired-looking dogs appeared around the narrow bend, followed by
a heavily-loaded sled. At the gee-pole was a man who steered in a manner
familiar to Pentfield, and behind the sled walked two women. His glance
returned to the man at the gee-pole. It was Corry. Pentfield got on his
feet and waited. He was glad that Lashka was with him. The meeting
could not have come about better had it been planned, he thought. And as
he waited he wondered what they would say, what they would be able to
say. As for himself there was no need to say anything. The explaining
was all on their side, and he was ready to listen to them.

As they drew in abreast, Corry recognized him and halted the dogs. With
a "Hello, old man," he held out his hand.

Pentfield shook it, but without warmth or speech. By this time the two
women had come up, and he noticed that the second one was Dora Holmes. He
doffed his fur cap, the flaps of which were flying, shook hands with her,
and turned toward Mabel. She swayed forward, splendid and radiant, but
faltered before his outstretched hand. He had intended to say, "How do
you do, Mrs. Hutchinson?"--but somehow, the Mrs. Hutchinson had choked
him, and all he had managed to articulate was the "How do you do?"

There was all the constraint and awkwardness in the situation he could
have wished. Mabel betrayed the agitation appropriate to her position,
while Dora, evidently brought along as some sort of peacemaker, was
saying:-

"Why, what is the matter, Lawrence?"

Before he could