hanty and stretched out luxuriously on a fragrant heap of
spruce boughs with the idea of indulging in pleasant retrospection.

The sun was well past its zenith when he awoke and his watch told him
that it was nearly three in the afternoon. He rubbed his eyes, knotted
his muscles in a satisfying stretch and leaped to his feet with a
laugh. He found the girl in equally good spirits, the injured foot
encased in a mocassin that belonged to one of the foreman's children.
It was not a bad sprain; the pain and swelling had subsided, but it
would be well to rest it for two or three days, Mrs. Thorlakson had
told her. If they could put up with roughing it, she would be glad for
them to stay as long as they liked.

"I've promised to show her a new crochet pattern and knit a pair of
pullovers for little Skuli," smiled Cristy. "The poor thing is
lonesome and I've half a mind to make a little visit for a few days.
Do you know, she hasn't seen a white woman to talk to for six months?"

"You couldn't do a more charitable act, Miss Lawson, and I hope you'll
allow the bell-boy to linger within call. I happen to know that
Wolverine River down there has some fine trout in it and I confess I'd
like awfully to rustle an Indian canoe somewhere and do a little
exploring. Isn't this air simply great?"

They had wandered to the edge of the embankment and seated themselves
for a sunning. She searched quickly for his expression, but he had
turned and was gazing far up the track, his tanned face alight with
boyish enthusiasm.

Time never passed so swiftly for Phil Kendrick as it did during the
next two days. In the big roomy birch-bark canoe that Svenson had
built he went fishing and exploring to his heart's content--with Miss
Cristy Lawson. He initiated her into the mysteries of speckled trout
and helped her to land triumphantly a three-pounder. She was
interested in botany and he climbed all sorts of inaccessible places to
pick strange plants for her. On these expeditions they took Mrs.
Thorlakson and the children along; there was room for them all in the
big canoe and with the men absent all day it was possible for them to
make a picnic of it. He even enjoyed the evenings with the men while
they smoked their pipes in the doorway through which it was possible to
see Cristy, her sleeves tucked above a charming pair of dimpled elbows,
helping Mrs. Thorlakson with the dishes.

But on the afternoon of the third day as they sat out