the skies of this land of awful
desolation where you existed? Did you see the light of the Eternal
City shining through its gates when they were opened to receive you?"

As though in answer to Shad's question the last rays of the setting
sun dropped through the open top of the lodge and rested upon the
upturned face of the dead Indian maiden in a bright, illuminating
glow.

"Manikawan, you sacrificed your life to duty and to human sympathy.
You died a Christ-like death, and your sacrifice shall not be wasted.
Your body is dead, but your spirit still lives.

"So long as the breath of life is in me, Manikawan, I shall never
forget your example of patience and encouragement and self-effacement.
It has built for me new ideals. It has taught me that there are other
things to live for than the mere attainment of pleasure and the
gratification of selfish desires.

"You were an Indian, Manikawan, and the world would have called you a
pagan and a savage. But you have pointed out to me the way to a nobler
and better life."

Shad arose and resumed his seat. He had spoken in a voice of tense
earnestness, and for a little while all sat in awed silence. Then Ed
Matheson began to sing, and the others joined him:

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee."

With the last notes of the grand old hymn they all knelt, while big
Dick Blake, in a voice shaken with emotion, offered a short but
fervent prayer.

Manikawan's body was wrapped tightly in deerskin robes, and in the
darkening twilight of the cold winter evening it was reverently borne
to the newly erected platform among the spruce trees. Here it was to
lie exposed to winds and storms, but beyond the reach of marauding
animals, until the next summer's sun should warm and soften the earth
sufficiently to permit Mookoomahn and the trappers to dig a grave and
lay it in its final resting-place.

XXVIII

TROWBRIDGE AND GRAY, TRADERS

At the end of a week, when the supply of provisions which the trappers
had brought with them was running low, Shad suggested that he was
quite able to make the journey to the river tilt. His knee was now so
far improved that it caused him but slight inconvenience to walk, and
he was rapidly regaining strength.

He was anxious indeed to return to the tilt. He thought of it much as
one thinks of home; and the thought carried with it visions of rest
and comfort. The others could ill afford a longer absence from their
trai