rticularly trying day during which Elise had been
stung into biting retorts, an inspiration came to Madame that rolled
every threatening cloud from her mind.

The next morning, after long waiting, Pierre came to the dining-room,
but found neither breakfast nor Madame, and for the best of reasons.
With the first grey light of morning, Madame had slipped from the door
of the Blue Goose, and before the sun had gilded the head of Ballard
Mountain she was far up the trail that led to the Inferno.

Zephyr was moving deliberately about a little fire on which his
breakfast was cooking, pursing his lips in meditative whistles, or
engaged in audible discussion with himself on the various topics which
floated through his mind. An unusual clatter of displaced rocks brought
his dialogue to a sudden end; a sharp look down the trail shrank his
lips to a low whistle; the sight of a hard knob of dingy hair, strained
back from a pair of imploring eyes fringed by colourless lashes, swept
his hat from his head, and sent him clattering down to Madame with
outstretched hands.

"You're right, Madame. You're on the right trail, and it's but little
farther. It's rather early for St. Peter, it's likely he's taking his
beauty sleep yet; but I'll see that it's broken, unless you have a
private key to the Golden Gates, which you deserve, if you haven't got
it." His address of welcome had brought him to Madame's side.

Her only reply was a bewildered gaze, as she took his hands. With his
help she soon reached the camp, and seated herself in a rude chair which
Zephyr placed for her.

Zephyr, having seen to the comfort of his guest, returned to his
neglected breakfast.

"It takes a pretty cute angel to catch me unawares," he glanced at
Madame; "but you've got the drop on me this time. Come from an
unexpected direction, too. I've heard tell of Jacob's vision of angels
passing up and down, but I mostly allowed it was a pipe dream. I shall
have to annotate my ideas again, which is no uncommon experience,
statements to the contrary notwithstanding." Zephyr paused from his
labours and looked inquiringly at Madame.

Madame made no reply. Her bewildered calm began to break before the
apparent necessity of saying or doing something. Not having a clear
perception of the fitting thing in either case, she took refuge in a
copious flood of tears.

Zephyr offered no impediment to the flow, either by word or act. He was
not especially acquainted with the