ing away thousands of tons of earth
from the banks, and scraping the scarred rocks as clean as a bone.
Some were piled up in the wildest confusion on point or headland,
others rushing down became jammed in the Black Canyon, the most dreaded
spot in the river. Day by day the mass rose higher, straining and
groaning to free itself from its narrow prison and the weight of ice
and water behind. But still it held firm in the terrible, vise-like
grip of those flinty walls, and might hold for days, flooding the
valleys for miles back, and threatening all before it with certain
destruction. Never in the memory of the oldest native had Spring
leaped forward so early with unsheathed sword to deal such a sudden
blow to its stern adversary, Winter.

The Indians marching to Klassan felt the change most keenly as they
plodded wearily onward, wading in water to their knees, or sinking at
every step into the soft snow. It was a weary and dispirited band
which one night drew near the village. Silently they came--this army
of the mountains--like grim spectres out of the darkness. The foremost
reached the mission house, and paused in amazement at beholding nothing
there except a heap of ruins. Others came up and crowded around in
silent wonder. Was this all that remained of their supplies, the
mission house filled with goodly treasures, the pride of the band?
Then the truth flashed upon them--the white men had done it, had
inflicted this base insult! From hundreds of lips at once arose a wild
cry of sorrow and rage, which winging through the darkness, startled
the miners from their sleep, and paled the cheeks of those gambling
late in Perdue's store.

[1] Literal translation:

"Close to Thee, my Father,
Close to Thee.
Even the cross
Raiseth me if
Still my song shall be
Close to Thee, my Father,
Close to Thee."

CHAPTER XXI

CONSTANCE'S VENTURE

The night when the mission house was burned Caribou Sol slept on the
floor in the Radhurst cabin. It was not an easy bed, but he did not
mind.

"All the better fer bein' hard," he laughed, when Constance apologized
for their poor accommodation. "I won't sleep too sound, an' I'll be
able to keep an ear peeled fer them varmints."

Constance felt safer with the old man in the cabin, but still she could
not sleep. What she had heard of the trail and the mystery regarding
those letters kept her much perplexed. She thought, too, of Keith, out
in the wi