as a hoary tree-trunk. And
the men who tramp the wild gradually assimilate the silent, furtive
ways of the intelligent forest folk. The wounded caribou drags
himself to some inaccessible thicket, there either to gain back
strength or die unobserved and alone. Sickness and feebleness are
the only inexcusable faults of wild animal life, and offer sufficient
reason for death if hunger is fierce. Unconsciously, Donald McTavish
had absorbed the trait of mute sufferings from his years in the
heart of nature. Not only had he absorbed it, but it had been handed
down to him through generations of wilderness-loving McTavishes;
it was part of his blood, just as the hatred of wolves as destroyers
of fur-bearing game was part of it.

So, now, with this burden upon his heart almost greater than he
could bear, he hurried through the camp, seeing no one, not even
hearing the greetings of friends who had not spoken to him before.
At his tent, he mechanically fastened on his snowshoes, and strode
away into the depths of the forest with his hurt, like a wounded
animal. When, finally, the sounds from the camp no longer reached
him, he sat down on a fallen tree that broke through the surface
of the snow. For a long while, he did not reason: reason was beyond
him now. He felt as though something had been done to his brain
that rendered it stunned and helpless. Even yet, he did not fully
realize the thing that had come to him.

"That fiend lies, curse him; he lies, I say!" he muttered, presently.

"But yet, if it wasn't true, he wouldn't dare," was the unanswerable
reply.

He knew Angus Fitzpatrick well enough to realize that the old man
never took a step without being sure it would bear his weight. He
had always been so. It was not likely that he would change now,
particularly when there was so much at stake.

And yet, what had he, Donald himself, done? Nothing! If this
accusation were true, it only reflected on his father and his
father's past. The son winced at that, for he and the commissioner
had always been the best of companions. He could not believe that
the fine, tall, distinguished gentleman of his boyhood tottered
thus on the brink of ruin. If so, that father's ideals, his training,
his life, had been one long hypocrisy.

Personally speaking, this sin on the part of his father seemed
utterly impossible to Donald. Theoretically speaking, it was
probable enough, for men in the wilds were still men, with the call
of nature s