ce of one traveller to
another."

Garth was ready enough to throw himself at her feet without this
affecting appeal. "Please count on me," he said, moved more than he
would let them see, especially the old woman. "How can I help you?"

"See me as far as Miwasa Landing," she said simply. "I will then throw
myself on the goodness of the Bishop and his wife; and trust to them
to take me with them the rest of the way--that is, if I wish to go.
The Bishop may be able to give me information," she added darkly.

"Natalie!" put in Mrs. Mabyn, warningly. "I--I will give her letters to
those good people," she added hastily, to divert Garth's mind from the
strangeness of Natalie's last words.

But Garth was in no temper to be deflected by a mystery. "I am thankful
for the chance to be of service," he said fervently, having a keen sense
of the poverty of words.

"Thank you," said Natalie, simply. "Let us talk of ways and means," she
added decisively. "What should I take?"

III

ON THE TRAIL

At a quarter to eight next morning Garth was waiting again in the
parlour of the Bristol Hotel. Promptly to the minute Natalie came
sailing in, in her own inimitable way, walking all of a piece, with a
sweep like a banner, Garth thought. When he saw her, his last doubt of
the reality of this intoxicating journey vanished. She bore no trace
now of the seriousness of the night before; all smiles and red-cheeked
eagerness, she radiated the very joy of being.

"Enter Mrs. Pink!" she cried.

She had a brown valise, a fat bundle, a flat, square package wrapped in
paper, a coat and a parasol.

"You said trunks were taboo," she explained. "I only had one valise and
I couldn't nearly get everything in. Indeed I sat up half the night
studying how little I could do with."

"We'll get you a duffle-bag at the Landing," he said.

"Am I suitably dressed?" she demanded, showing herself.

Garth smiled. She was perfection; how could he blame her? She had
interpreted his suggestions as to sober, serviceable clothes, in a
diabolically well-fitting suit of brown, the colour of her hair. At the
wrists and neck of her brown-silk waist were spotless bands of white;
and on her head was a dashing little brown hat with green wings. She
exhibited square-toed little brown boots as an evidence of exceeding
common sense; and was pulling on a pair of absurdly small boy's gloves.
This most suitable costume for the North was completed by a brown-silk