strong enough for rebellion. He closed his mouth
again. Dolly interceded with a glance of her soft eyes, but Bison
Billiam was aglow with his idea. "Cut!" he cried.

Dolly cut.

This time the result was eminently satisfactory. With great effort, with
cracking sinew and sweating brow, Charles-Norton managed to circle the
meadow once with heavy, awkward flapping. His neck was awry with the
uneven pressure, his fine body was twisted; he almost struck the ground
between each stroke, and as he was passing his audience on the beginning
of a second lap, he lost control suddenly, turned clear over, and flopped
to earth at their feet.

Bison Billiam could not restrain his enthusiasm now. He clapped his
hands, he skipped about like a child. "Fine; fine!" he cried, and his
deep voice rang clear to the crest; "that's the stuff; now we've got it!
By Jove," he swore, his satisfaction rising to delirium, "I'll give you
four hundred _and fifty_ a week!"

They left immediately, Charles-Norton dressing, for the first time in many
days, in his city suit of clothes. The wings, even though--rectified,
bulged the coat, but this was hidden by the cape of his mackintosh, which
Dolly, providentially, had brought with her from the city. They wended
their way back along the trail to the camp, Charles-Norton bronzed like a
farmer, choking in his white collar, Dolly very pretty in her tailor
suit, her furs, and her toque, Bison Billiam resplendent on his white
horse; and before them Nicodemus trotted demurely, a dress-suit case in
each saddle-bag, another slung atop. They left him at the camp, grazing
philosophically on his old dump. Charles-Norton gave him an affectionate
farewell slap, Dolly kissed him on the nose, and they then climbed aboard
the shining private-car which stood ready for them on the siding. One end
of the private-car was a luxurious stable, in which the white horse
climbed along a cleated gang-way. A half-hour later the passing Overland
train picked up the car, and slowly clicking along the summit, they saw,
between two snow-sheds, the little meadow, its lake, and its cabin, pass
by, out of their vision, out of their lives.

Charles-Norton took off his coat, which felt very tight. A private-car
had a freedom, and comforts, which a public-car has not; a faint
appreciation of this fact came to Charles-Norton as he settled back,
coatless, in his upholstered chair, and with it the first vague snuggle
of readjustment. This feeli