a time,
that she actually disliked him. The station agent, Kid Follansbee,
admired her exceedingly, and had timidly ventured some words of
hopeful flirtation as a preliminary to more serious proposals. Two or
three other youths of Carcajou only needed the slightest sign of
encouragement, and there was a conductor of the passenger train who
used to blow kisses at her, once in a while, from the steps of the
Pullman. In spite of all this Sophy continued to smile and talk
softly, whenever he entered the store, and he would answer civilly and
cheerfully, and ask the price of lard or enquire for the fish-hooks
that had been ordered from Ottawa. He would pat the head of the big
dog that was always at his heels, throw a coin on the counter, slip
his change in his pocket and go out again, as if time had mattered,
when, as she knew perfectly well, he really hadn't much to do. The
poor fellow, she decided, was really stupid, in spite of his good
looks.

The worst of it all was that some folks had taken notice of her
efforts to attract Hugo's attention. The people of Carcajou were
good-natured but prone to guffaws. One or two asked her when the
wedding would take place, and roared at her indignant denials.

In the meanwhile Hugo was utterly ignorant of the feelings that had
arisen in Miss Sophy McGurn's bosom. He worked away at a great rocky
ledge, and loud explosions were not uncommon at the big falls of
Roaring River. Also he cut a huge pile of firewood against the coming
of winter, and, from time to time, would take a rod and lure from the
river some of the fine red square-tailed trout that abounded in its
waters. A few books on mining and geology, and an occasional magazine,
served his needs of mental recreation. A French Canadian family
settled about a mile north of his shack soon grew friendly with him.
There were children he was welcomed by, and a batch of dogs that tried
in vain to tear Maigan to pieces, until with club and fang they were
taught better manners. To the young man's peculiar disposition such
surroundings were entirely satisfactory. There was a freedom in it, a
sense of personal endeavor, a hope of success, that tinted his world
in gladdening hues.

When autumn came he shouldered his rifle and went out to the big
swampy stretches of the upper river, where big cow moose and their
ungainly young, soon to be abandoned, wallowed in the oozy bottoms of
shallow ponds and lifted their heads from the water, chewing