n at Athabasca Landing once. She hears there
are trains there now. It may be that Madam saw them.

Minna had planned a trip to the Landing this summer but it happened she
did not go after all. Ah, well! there is the money saved and she is
sure to see the Landing again. Minna was going to the hospital of the
good sisters to lie in with her fifth baby and Ernst was to stay here
with the children. You may believe it too, that Ernst is no
butter-fingers with children and a most cunning baker of bread. Minna
says that down this way every man can bake bread--and does bake bread.

The little house by the trail would, of course, miss its mother for a
while, but the garden seeds were in; the children's clothes were mended
to the last stitch, and a parcel of baby's fixings was on its way to
her from Edmonton. Now it happened there was too much important
freight from the boat to carry this parcel and so it was left behind
till the next trip. It was nearly too late and Minna was greatly
perplexed, for surely she was going to see the Landing and how could
she go without the baby's clothing.

But, at last, the parcel came, and the wagoner who delivered it was to
call the next day on his return trip and take Minna with him over the
portage to the boat. He came, and with him were several passengers.
It was unfortunate there was no woman among them, for Minna had no
neighbours; Ernst had gone down the trail, and her hour was upon her.

"Mother, she iss sick," explained her little son, "and no one iss in to
come. I am by the door to stand till Father he comes back." It was
nearly an hour before the distressful travellers were able to find
Ernst, but no man ventured past the young sentinel.

The little daughter was half-an-hour old when Ernst was deposited on
his door-step, but Minna had cared for the child herself. It was too
bad the mother had fallen from the loft and hurt herself, for now, she
cannot go to the hospital and she wanted to see the Landing. Ah, well!
there is the money saved and that is something. It takes much money
for five children.

"How old is the baby girl?" I ask, as I take my turn in kissing the
mite's forehead, and in wishing that she may be a good little scout
like Minna.

"She was one week last Tuesday. No! two weeks last Tuesday. Ah!
Madam, I cannot surely say. Ernst I will ask him how old is the baby."

* * * * *

Once on the journey we passed a speckled ow