pricked their faces, and, going
home, the sleigh-bells jingled, the snowballs from the horses' hoofs hit
against the dash, the cold air seared the inside of their nostrils. When
Orde helped Carroll from beneath the warm buffalo robes, she held up to
him a face glowing with colour, framed in the soft fluffy fur of a hood.

"You darling!" he cried, and stooped to kiss her smooth, cold cheek.

When he had returned from the stable around the corner, he found the lit
lamp throwing its modified light and shade over the little round table.
He shook down the base-burner vigorously, thrust several billets of wood
in its door, and turned to meet her eyes across the table.

"Kind of fun being married, isn't it?" said he.

"Kind of," she admitted, nodding gravely.

The business of the firm was by now about in shape. All the boom
arrangements had been made; the two tugs were in the water and their
machinery installed; supplies and equipments were stored away; the
foremen of the crews engaged, and the crews themselves pretty well
picked out. Only there needed to build the wanigan, and to cart in the
supplies for the upper river works before the spring break-up and the
almost complete disappearance of the roads. Therefore, Orde had the good
fortune of unusual leisure to enjoy these first months with his
bride. They entered together the Unexplored Country, and found it more
wonderful than they had dreamed. Almost before they knew it, January and
February had flown.

"We must pack up, sweetheart," said Orde.

"It's only yesterday that we came," she cried regretfully.

They took the train for Redding, were installed in the gable room,
explored together for three days the delights of the old-fashioned
house, the spicy joys of Grandma Orde's and Amanda's cookery, the almost
adoring adulation of the old folks. Then Orde packed his "turkey,"
assumed his woods clothes, and marched off down the street carrying his
bag on his back.

"He looks like an old tramp in that rig," said Grandma Orde, closing the
storm door.

"He looks like a conqueror of wildernesses!" cried Carroll, straining
her eyes after his vanishing figure. Suddenly she darted after him,
calling in her high, bird-like tones. He turned and came back to her.
She clasped him by the shoulders, reluctant to let him go.

"Good-bye," she said at last. "You'll take better care of my sweetheart
than you ever did of Jack Orde, won't you, dear?"

XXII

Orde had reco