race inherently noble. He has been driven to make war,
and I want to help him into other paths."

Joe left the two ministers talking earnestly and turned toward Mrs.
Wentz. The fur-trader's wife was glowing with pleasure. She held in
her hand several rude trinkets, and was explaining to her listener,
a young woman, that the toys were for the children, having been
brought all the way from Williamsburg.

"Kate, where's Nell?" Joe asked of the girl.

"She went on an errand for Mrs. Wentz."

Kate Wells was the opposite of her sister. Her motions were slow,
easy and consistent with her large, full, form. Her brown eyes and
hair contrasted sharply with Nell's. The greatest difference in the
sisters lay in that Nell's face was sparkling and full of the fire
of her eager young life, while Kate's was calm, like the unruffled
surface of a deep lake.

"That's Jim, my brother. We're going with you," said Joe.

"Are you? I'm glad," answered the girl, looking at the handsome
earnest face of the young minister.

"Your brother's like you for all the world," whispered Mrs. Wentz.

"He does look like you," said Kate, with her slow smile.

"Which means you think, or hope, that that is all," retorted Joe
laughingly. "Well, Kate, there the resemblance ends, thank God for
Jim!"

He spoke in a sad, bitter tone which caused both women to look at
him wonderingly. Joe had to them ever been full of surprises; never
until then had they seen evidences of sadness in his face. A
moment's silence ensued. Mrs. Wentz gazed lovingly at the children
who were playing with the trinkets; while Kate mused over the young
man's remark, and began studying his, half-averted face. She felt
warmly drawn to him by the strange expression in the glance he had
given his brother. The tenderness in his eyes did not harmonize with
much of this wild and reckless boy's behavior. To Kate he had always
seemed so bold, so cold, so different from other men, and yet here
was proof that Master Joe loved his brother.

The murmured conversation of the two ministers was interrupted by a
low cry from outside the cabin. A loud, coarse laugh followed, and
then a husky voice:

"Hol' on, my purty lass."'

Joe took two long strides, and was on the door-step. He saw Nell
struggling violently in the grasp of the half-drunken teamster.

"I'll jes' hev' to kiss this lassie fer luck," he said in a tone of
good humor.

At the same instant Joe saw three loungers laughing, and