But
we want straight shot that'll reach the heart, and help us up the
shinin' way. An' ye kin do it, lad; the stuff's thar, so let's have
it. I'll round up the b'ys, an' they'll come."

And so it was settled that the service should be held. Keith then
threw himself upon the rude bunk, and, wearied out, was soon fast
asleep. Late in the day he awoke and made preparations for the
evening. He visited his patient, and found him progressing as well as
possible, though still possessing the vacant look in his face.
Constance he did not see, as she was taking a much-needed rest, while
one of the prospectors was watching by her father's side.

Early in the evening the men of Siwash Creek began to arrive at Pete's
cabin. They drifted in, one by one, and sat around smoking and
chatting. Some did not even remove their hats, and maintained an air
of indifference and lofty superiority. They had not much use for such
things, so they told themselves, but, as no other diversion offered,
they might as well take in what was going on.

When Keith at length stood up to begin the service, about fifteen men
were gathered round him. Before he could say a word, however, Pete
came close to his side.

"Whar's the lassie?" he whispered. "She should be here."

Keith had noticed her absence, and wondered, for she had promised to be
present.

"Perhaps she is watching her father," he replied. "That must be the
reason why she is not here."

Pete at once crossed to where Alec McPherson was sitting. A short
whispered conversation ensued, after which both men started for the
door.

"Don't begin till I come back," said Pete, as he left the building.

Constance was sitting quietly near her father when the two prospectors
arrived. She was thinking hard, and the small handkerchief which lay
in her lap was moist with tears. It had been a strange, lonely
Christmas Day for her. She remembered the old times when they were all
together in their snug little home in Vancouver. What a contrast to
her present dreary surroundings! Then, her father was so happy, and
Kenneth, the life of the house, was at his best. How her father had
changed in such a short time, and the poor boy, she wondered where and
how he was spending his Christmas.

She was feeling weary, too, as she sat there, for the excitement of the
past night was telling upon her. The flush had left her cheeks,
leaving her pale and wan. She felt somewhat troubled about having