ed, as he saw Hugo standing outside the
shack. "I tank I'm more pleased as if I find a dozen goldmines, you
bet! De leetle leddy she safe you all right--all right. But now I take
her avay to Meester Doctor Starr, like he telt me to. De doctor he gif
me a bit letter for you, ma'am. I find it soon."

Two letters on a single day was heavy mail for Roaring River. Madge
tore the last one open and read:

My Dear Miss Nelson:

Stefan has promised to bring you to us to-morrow. I want you to
come, for my wife and the kiddies are awaiting you. From my latest
study of conditions at Roaring River I have gathered that you may
not stay with us as long as I had first hoped, but at any rate it
will be long enough to do a little fixing and arranging of
feminine garments. My instinct tells me that your visit to us will
be short since our patient, if you tarry too long, may come and
steal you away. He will have to come anyway for, just as I'm the
nearest doctor to you, so my friend Jamieson is the nearest
parson.

With every best wish,
Very sincerely yours,
DAVID STARR.

Madge handed the letter over to Hugo who quickly looked it over.

"Wonderful fellow is Starr," he declared.

Stefan took his friend Hugo up in his arms, in spite of protests on
the latter's part that he wanted to try to walk. The young man was a
light load, indeed, at this time. He was placed on the seat of the
buckboard and, with Stefan carefully leading the horse and Madge
walking alongside, was taken up to Papineau's.

The woodlands were very different now, thought the girl. When she had
arrived the great land was plunged in slumber under its mantle of
snow. The few birds there were at the time were voiceless, like the
partridges that only find a peep when fluffy broods follow them, or
some of the larger fowl which only hoot or shriek. The sound-calls of
the wilderness had been those of struggling waters, of cracking trees,
of snow-masses violently displaced. But now birds were in full song
everywhere, carrying trifles of stick and floss and grass wherewith to
build their nests. Formerly there had been the uneasy groans and sighs
of a gigantic restless sleeper. Now there was the chant of a
heart-free nature engaged again in vigorous toil, in wresting the
recurrent glory of surging life and hope from the