ir couches in
bunks and truckle-beds. The man was relating incidents of the trapping
to his wife, who nodded understandingly. Beaver were getting plentiful
along the upper reaches of the Roaring; it was a pity that the law
prevented their killing for such a long time. He had seen tracks of
caribou, that are scarce in that region; but they were very old
tracks, not worth following, since these animals are such great
travelers.

During this conversation Madge would listen, at times, and turn
towards the door. She had a vague idea that Ennis might come, since
the boy's account had been somewhat reassuring. When she finally went
to bed behind an improvised screen in a corner of the big living-room,
she was long unable to sleep, owing to obsessing thoughts that
wouldn't be banished. Over and over again she reminded herself of all
that had happened. It stood to reason that the man had written those
letters; how could it be otherwise? The proofs in her hands were too
conclusive to permit her to pay any heed to his denials. The amazing
thing was that when one looked at him it became harder and harder to
believe him capable of such wrongdoing.

As she tossed in her bed she began to be assailed with doubts. These
worried her exceedingly. He had firmly asserted his innocence.
Supposing that he was telling the truth, what then? In such a case,
impossible as it seemed, she had accused him unjustly, and her conduct
towards him had been unpardonable. And then she had refused to listen
to him, when he had sought to begin some sort of explanation. Why
shouldn't one believe a man with such frank and honest eyes, one who
wouldn't harm even a dog and was loved and trusted by little children?
Of course, it was quite unintentionally that she had wounded his body,
but if he chanced to be innocent she had also wounded his feelings,
deeply, in spite of which he had seemed sorry for her, and had been
very kind. He had promised to come again to give her further help. If
he was guilty it was but a sorry attempt to make slight amends. If he
was not at fault, it showed that he was a mighty fine man. Madge felt
that she would rather believe in his innocence, in spite of the fact
that if he could prove it she would be covered with confusion.

"It seems to me that I ought to have given him that opportunity he was
seeking," she told herself, rather miserably.

Before she fell asleep she decided that on the morrow she would walk
over to his shack if