The Man From Glengarry ..................................................................................................................................1

Ralph Connor ...........................................................................................................................................1

PREFACE ................................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I. THE OPEN RIVER ...........................................................................................................2

CHAPTER II. VENGEANCE IS MINE.................................................................................................9

CHAPTER III. THE MANSE IN THE BUSH ......................................................................................14

CHAPTER IV. THE RIDE FOR LIFE ..................................................................................................18

CHAPTER V. FORGIVE US OUR DEBTS .........................................................................................21

CHAPTER VI. A NEW FRIEND ..........................................................................................................29

CHAPTER VII. MAIMIE ......................................................................................................................37

CHAPTER VIII. THE SUGARINGOFF............................................................................................41

CHAPTER IX. A SABBATH DAY'S WORK ......................................................................................48

CHAPTER X. THE HOMECOMING OF THE SHANTYMEN.......................................................60

CHAPTER XI. THE WAKE.................................................................................................................67

CHAPTER XII. SEEDTIME ...............................................................................................................75

CHAPTER XIII. THE LOGGING BEE ................................................................................................80

CHAPTER XIV. SHE WILL NOT FORGET .......................................................................................91

CHAPTER XV. THE REVIVAL..........................................................................................................99

CHAPTER XVI. AND THE GLORY .................................................................................................108

CHAPTER XVII. LENOIR'S NEW MASTER ...................................................................................113

CHAPTER XVIII. HE IS NOT OF MY KIND ...................................................................................128

CHAPTER XIX. ONE GAME AT A TIME.......................................................................................136

CHAPTER XX. HER CLINGING ARMS ..........................................................................................144

CHAPTER XXI. I WILL REMEMBER.............................................................................................152

CHAPTER XXII. FORGET THAT I LOVED YOU..........................................................................161

CHAPTER XXIII. A GOOD TRUE FRIEND....................................................................................175

CHAPTER XXIV. THE WEST ...........................................................................................................186

CHAPTER XXV. GLENGARRY FOREVER ....................................................................................194

The solid forests of Glengarry have vanished, and with the forests the men who conquered them. The manner

of life and the type of character to be seen in those early days have gone too, and forever. It is part of the

purpose of this book to so picture these men and their times that they may not drop quite out of mind. The

men are worth remembering. They carried the marks of their blood in their fierce passions, their courage,

their loyalty; and of the forest in their patience, their resourcefulness, their self reliance. But deeper than all,

the mark that reached down to their hearts' core was that of their faith, for in them dwelt the fear of God.

Their religion may have been narrow, but no narrower than the moulds of their lives. It was the biggest thing

in them. It may have taken a somber hue from their gloomy forests, but by reason of a sweet, gracious

In the Canada beyond the Lakes, where men are making empire, the sons of these Glengarry men are found.

And there such men are needed. For not wealth, not enterprise, not energy, can build a nation into sure

greatness, but men, and only men with the fear of God in their hearts, and with no other. And to make this

The winter had broken early and the Scotch River was running ice free and full from bank to bank. There

was still snow in the woods, and with good sleighing and open rivers every day was golden to the lumbermen

who had stuff to get down to the big water. A day gained now might save weeks at a chute farther down,

Dan Murphy was mightily pleased with himself and with the bit of the world about him, for there lay his

winter's cut of logs in the river below him snug and secure and held tight by a boom across the mouth, just

where it flowed into the Nation. In a few days he would have his crib made, and his outfit ready to start for

the Ottawa mills. He was sure to be ahead of the big timber rafts that took up so much space, and whose

crews with unbearable effrontery considered themselves the aristocrats of the river.

Yes, it was a pleasant and satisfying sight, some three solid miles of logs boomed at the head of the big water.

LeNoir, or "LeNware," as they all called it in that country, was Dan Murphy's foreman, and as he himself

said, "for haxe, for hit (eat), for fight de boss on de reever Hottawa! by Gar!" Louis LeNoir was a

FrenchCanadian, handsome, active, hardy, and powerfully built. He had come from the New Brunswick

woods some three years ago, and had wrought and fought his way, as he thought, against all rivals to the

proud position of "boss on de reever," the topmost pinnacle of a lumberman's ambition. It was something to

see LeNoir "run a log" across the river and back; that is, he would balance himself upon a floating log, and by

spinning it round, would send it whither he would. At Murphy's question LeNoir stood listening with bent

head and open mouth. Down the river came the sound of singing. "Donno me! Ah oui! be dam! Das

Macdonald gang for sure! De men from Glengarrie, les diables! Dey not hout de reever yet." His boss went

"We give em de full belly, heh? Bon!" said LeNoir, throwing back his head. His only unconquered rival on

Ho ro, mo nighean donn bhoidheach, Hiri, mo nighean donn bhoidheach, Mo chaileag, laghach,

Down the river came the strong, clear chorus of men's voices, and soon a "pointer" pulled by six stalwart men

with a lad in the stern swung round the bend into view. A single voice took up the song

'S ann tha mo run's na beanntaibh, Far bheil mo ribhinn ghreannar, Mar ros am fasach shamhraidh An gleann

Swiftly the pointer shot down the current, the swaying bodies and swinging oars in perfect rhythm with the

song that rose and fell with melancholy but musical cadence. The men on the high bank stood looking down

upon the approaching singers. "You know dem fellers?" said LeNoir. Murphy nodded. "Ivery divil iv

thimBig Mack Cameron, Dannie Ross, Finlay Campbellthe redheaded onethe next I don't know, and

yes! be dad! there's that blanked Yankee, Yankee Jim, they call him, an' bad luck till him. The divil will have

to take the poker till him, for he'll bate him wid his fists, and so he willand that big black divil is Black

Hugh, the brother iv the boss Macdonald. He'll be up in the camp beyant, and a mighty lucky thing for you,

"Bah!" spat LeNoir, "Dat beeg Macdonald I mak heem run like one leetle sheep, one tam at de long Sault,

bah! No good!" LeNoir's contempt for Macdonald was genuine and complete. For two years he had tried to

Meantime, the pointer came swinging along. As it turned the point the boy uttered an exclamation"Look

there!" The song and the rowing stopped abruptly; the big, dark man stood up and gazed down the river,

packed from bank to bank with the brown sawlogs; deep curses broke from him. Then he caught sight of the

men on the bank. A word of command and the pointer shot into the shore, and the next moment Macdonald

Dubh, or Black Hugh, as he was sometimes called, followed by his men, was climbing up the steep bank.

"What the blank, blank, do these logs mean, Murphy?" he demanded, without pause for salutation.

"Tis a foine avenin' Misther Macdonald," said Murphy, blandly offering his hand, "an' Hiven bliss ye."

Macdonald checked himself with an effort and reluctantly shook hands with Murphy and LeNoir, whom he

slightly knew. "It is a fery goot evening, indeed," he said, in as quiet a voice as he could command, "but I am

"Shure, an' it is a dhry night, and onpolite to kape yez talking here. Come in wid yez," and much against his

will Black Hugh followed Murphy to the tavern, the most pretentious of a group of log buildingsonce a

lumber campwhich stood back a little distance from the river, and about which Murphy's men, some sixty

The tavern was full of Murphy's gang, a motley crew, mostly French Canadians and Irish, just out of the

woods and ready for any devilment that promised excitement. Most of them knew by sight, and all by

reputation, Macdonald and his gang, for from the farthest reaches of the Ottawa down the St. Lawrence to

Quebec the Macdonald gang of Glengarry men was famous. They came, most of them, from that strip of

country running back from the St. Lawrence through Glengarry County, known as the Indian Landsonce

an Indian reservation. They were sons of the men who had come from the highlands and islands of Scotland

in the early years of the last century. Driven from homes in the land of their fathers, they had set themselves

with indomitable faith and courage to hew from the, solid forest, homes for themselves and their children that

none might take from them. These pioneers were bound together by ties of blood, but also by bonds stronger

than those of blood. Their loneliness, their triumphs, their sorrows, born of their common lifelong conflict

with the forest and its fierce beasts, knit them in bonds close and enduring. The sons born to them and reared

in the heart of the pine forests grew up to witness that heroic struggle with stern nature and to take their part

in it. And mighty men they were. Their life bred in them hardiness of frame, alertness of sense, readiness of

resource, endurance, superb self reliance, a courage that grew with peril, and withal a certain wildness

which at times deepened into ferocity. By their fathers the forest was dreaded and hated, but the sons, with

rifles in hand, trod its pathless stretches without fear, and with their broadaxes they took toll of their ancient

foe. For while in spring and summer they farmed their narrow fields, and rescued new lands from the brule;

in winter they sought the forest, and back on their own farms or in "the shanties" they cut sawlogs, or made

square timber, their only source of wealth. The shanty life of the early fifties of last century was not the

luxurious thing of to day. It was full of privation, for the men were poorly housed and fed, and of peril, for

the making of the timber and the getting it down the smaller rivers to the big water was a work of hardship

and danger. Remote from the restraints of law and of society, and living in wild surroundings and in hourly

touch with danger, small wonder that often the shantymen were wild and reckless. So that many a poor

fellow in a single wild carouse in Quebec, or more frequently in some river town, would fling into the hands

of sharks and harlots and tavernkeepers, with whom the bosses were sometimes in league, the earnings of

his long winter's work, and would wake to find himself sick and penniless, far from home and broken in

Of all the shantymen of the Ottawa the men of Glengarry, and of Glengarry men Macdonald's gang were

easily first, and of the gang Donald Bhain Macdonald, or Macdonald More, or the Big Macdonald, for he was

variously known, was not only the "boss" but best and chief. There was none like him. A giant in size and

strength, a prince of broadaxe men, at home in the woods, surefooted and daring on the water, free with his

wages, and always ready to drink with friend or fight with foe, the whole river admired, feared, or hated him,

while his own men followed him into the woods, on to a jam, or into a fight with equal joyousness and

devotion. Fighting was like wine to him, when the fight was worth while, and he went into the fights his

admirers were always arranging for him with the easiest good humor and with a smile on his face. But

Macdonald Bhain's carousing, fighting days came to an abrupt stop about three years before the opening of

this tale, for on one of his summer visits to his home, "The word of the Lord in the mouth of his servant

Alexander Murray," as he was wont to say, "found him and he was a new man." He went into his new life

with the same whole souled joyousness as had marked the old, and he announced that with the shanty and

the river he was "done for ever more." But after the summer's work was done, and the logging over, and when

the snap of the first frost nipped the leaves from the trees, Macdonald became restless. He took down his

broadaxe and spent hours polishing it and bringing it to an edge, then he put it in its wooden sheath and laid

it away. But the fever was upon him, ten thousand voices from the forest were shouting for him. He went

away troubled to his minister. In an hour he came back with the old good humor in his face, took down the

broadaxe again, and retouched it, lovingly, humming the while the old river song of the Glengarry men

He was going back to the bush and to the biggest fight of his life. No wonder he was glad. Then his good

little wife began to get ready his long, heavy stockings, his thick mits, his homespun smock, and other gear,

for she knew well that soon she would be alone for another winter. Before long the word went round that

Macdonald Bhain was for the shanties again, and his men came to him for their orders.

But it was not to the old life that Macdonald was going, and he gravely told those that came to him that he

would take no man who could not handle his axe and handspike, and who could not behave himself.

"Behaving himself" meant taking no more whiskey than a man could carry, and refusing all invitations to

fight unless "necessity was laid upon him." The only man to object was his own brother, Macdonald Dubh,

whose temper was swift to blaze, and with whom the blow was quicker than the word. But after the second

year of the new order even Black Hugh fell into line. Macdonald soon became famous on the Ottawa. He

picked only the best men, he fed them well, paid them the highest wages, and cared for their comfort, but

held them in strictest discipline. They would drink but kept sober, they would spend money but knew how

much was coming to them. They feared no men even of "twice their own heavy and big," but would never

fight except under necessity. Contracts began to come their way. They made money, and what was better,

they brought it home. The best men sought to join them, but by rival gangs and by men rejected from their

ranks they were hated with deepest heart hatred. But the men from Glengarry knew no fear and sought no

favor. They asked only a good belt of pine and an open river. As a rule they got both, and it was peculiarly

maddening to Black Hugh to find two or three miles of solid logs between his timber and the open water of

the Nation. Black Hugh had a temper fierce and quick, and when in full flame he was a man to avoid, for

from neither man nor devil would he turn. The only man who could hold him was his brother Macdonald

Bhain, for strong man as he was, Black Hugh knew well that his brother could with a single swift grip bring

It was unfortunate that the command of the party this day should have been Macdonald Dubh's. Unfortunate,

too, that it was Dan Murphy and his men that happened to be blocking the river mouth. For the Glengarry

men, who handled only square timber, despised the Murphy gang as sawlogmen; "logrollers" or

"mushrats" they called them, and hated them as Irish "Papishes" and French "Crapeaux," while between Dan

Murphy and Macdonald Dubh there was an ancient personal grudge, and today Murphy thought he had

found his time. There were only six of the enemy, he had ten times the number with him, many of them eager

to pay off old scores; and besides there was Louis LeNoir as the "Boss Bully" of the river. The Frenchman

was not only a powerful man, active with hands and feet, but he was an adept in all kinds of fighting tricks.

Since coming to the Ottawa he had heard of the big Macdonald, and he sought to meet him. But Macdonald

avoided him once and again till LeNoir, having never known any one avoiding a fight for any reason other

than fear, proclaimed Macdonald a coward, and himself "de boss on de reever." Now there was a chance of

meeting his rival and of forcing a fight, for the Glengarry camp could not be far away where the big

Macdonald himself would be. So Dan Murphy, backed up with numbers, and the boss bully LeNoir,

determined that for these Macdonald men the day of settlement had come. But they were dangerous men, and

it would be well to take all precautions, and hence his friendly invitation to the tavern for drinks.

Macdonald Dubh, scorning to show hesitation, though he suspected treachery, strode after Murphy to the

tavern door and through the crowd of shantymen filling the room. They were as ferocious looking a lot of

men as could well be got together, even in that country and in those daysshaggy of hair and beard, dressed

out in red and blue and green jerseys, with knitted sashes about their waists, and red and blue and green

tuques on their heads. Drunken rows were their delight, and fights so fierce that many a man came out

battered and bruised to death or to lifelong decrepitude. They were sitting on the benches that ran round the

room, or lounging against the bar singing, talking, blaspheming. At the sight of Macdonald Dubh and his men

there fell a dead silence, and then growls of recognition, but Murphy was not yet ready, and roaring out

"Dhrrinks," he seized a couple of his men leaning against the bar, and hurling them to right and left,

cried, "Maake room for yer betthers, be the powers! Sthand up, bhoys, and fill yirsilves!"

Black Hugh and his men lined up gravely to the bar and were straightway surrounded by the crowd yelling

hideously. But if Murphy and his gang thought to intimidate those grave Highlanders with noise, they were

greatly mistaken, for they stood quietly waiting for their glasses to be filled, alert, but with an air of perfect

indifference. Some eight or ten glasses were set down and filled, when Murphy, snatching a couple of bottles

from the shelf behind the bar, handed them out to his men, crying, "Here, ye bluddy thaves, lave the glasses

There was no mistaking the insolence in his tone, and the chorus of derisive yells that answered him showed

Yankee Jim, who had kept close to Black Hugh, saw the veins in his neck beginning to swell, and face to

grow dark. He was longing to be at Murphy's throat. "Speak him fair," he said, in a low tone, "there's rather a

good string of 'em raound." Macdonald Dubh glanced about him. His eye fell on his boy, and for the first

time his face became anxious. "Ranald," he said, angrily, "take yourself out of this. It is no place for you

whatever." The boy, a slight lad of seventeen, but tall and wellknit, and with his father's fierce, wild, dark

"Here, boy!" yelled LeNoir, catching him by the arm and holding the bottle to his mouth, "drink." The boy

took a gulp, choked, and spat it out. LeNoir and his men roared. "Dat good whiskey," he cried, still holding

"Hoho! mon brave enfant! But you have not de good mannere. Come, drink!" He caught the boy by the back

of the neck, and made as if to pour the whiskey down his throat. Black Hugh, who had been kept back by

Yankee Jim all this time, started forward, but before he could take a second step Ranald, squirming round like

a cat, had sunk his teeth into LeNoir's wrist. With a cry of rage and pain LeNoir raised the bottle and was

bringing it down on Ranald's head, when Black Hugh, with one hand, caught the falling blow, and with the

other seized Ranald, and crying, "Get out of this!" he flung him towards the door. Then turning to LeNoir, he

said, with surprising selfcontrol, "It is myself that is sorry that a boy of mine should be guilty of biting like a

"Sacrre le chien!" yelled LeNoir, shaking off Macdonald Dubh; "he is one dog, and the son of a dog!" He

turned and started for the boy. But Yankee Jim had got Ranald to the door and was whispering to him. "Run!"

cried Yankee Jim, pushing him out of the door, and the boy was off like the wind. LeNoir pursued him a

Yankee Jim, or Yankee, as he was called for short, came back to Macdonald Dubh's side, and whispering to

the other Highlanders, "Keep your backs clear," sat up coolly on the counter. The fight was sure to come and

there were seven to one against them in the room. If he could only gain time. Every minute was precious. It

would take the boy fifteen minutes to run the two miles to camp. It would be half an hour before the rest of

the Glengarry men could arrive, and much fighting may be done in that time. He must avert attention from

Macdonald Dubh, who was waiting to cram LeNoir's insult down his throat. Yankee Jim had not only all the

cool courage but also the shrewd, calculating spirit of his race. He was ready to fight, and if need be against

Soon LeNoir came back, wild with fury, and yelling curses at the top of his voice. He hurled himself into the

"Hola!" he yelled, "Sacre bleu!" He took two quick steps, and springing up into the air he kicked the

"Purty good kicking," called out Yankee, sliding down from his seat. "Used to kick some myself. Excuse

ME." He stood for a moment looking up at the stovepipe, then without apparent effort he sprang into the air,

shot up his long legs, and knocked the stovepipe with a bang against the ceiling. There was a shout of

"My damages," he said to Pat Murphy, who stood behind the counter. "Good thing there ain't no fire. Thought

it was higher. Wouldn't care to kick for the drinks, would ye?" he added to LeNoir.

LeNoir was too furious to enter into any contest so peaceful, but as he specially prided himself on his high

kick, he paused a moment and was about to agree when Black Hugh broke in, harshly, spoiling all Yankee's

"There is no time for such foolishness," he said, turning to Dan Murphy. "I want to know when we can get

"And will you tell me what right hev you to close up the river?" Black Hugh's wrath was rising.

"You wud think now it wuz yirsilf that owned the river. An' bedad it's the thought of yir mind, it is. An' it's

not the river only, but the whole creation ye an yir brother think is yours. Dan Murphy was close up to

Macdonald Dubh by this time. "Yis, blank, blank, yir faces, an' ye'd like to turn better than yirsilves from aff

This, of course, was beyond all endurance. For answer Black Hugh smote him sudden and fierce on the

Before Murphy could rise, LeNoir sprang over him and lit upon Macdonald like a cat, but Macdonald shook

"Glengarry!" yelled the four Highlanders beside him, wild with the delight of battle. It was a plain necessity,

"Here, Murphy," called out Yankee, obligingly, "help yourself this way." Murphy dashed at him, but

"Come on, boys," cried Pat Murphy, Dan's brother, and followed by half a dozen others, he flung himself at

Yankee and the line of men standing up against the wall. But Yankee's arms flashed out once, twice, thrice,

and Pat Murphy fell back over his brother; two others staggered across and checked the oncoming rush, while

Dannie Ross and big Mack Cameron had each beaten back their man, and the Glengarry line stood unbroken.

Man for man they were far more than a match for their opponents, and standing shoulder to shoulder, with

their backs to the wall, they taunted Murphy and his gang with all the wealth of gibes and oaths at their

"Where's the rest of your outfit, Murphy?" drawled Yankee. "Don't seem's if you'd counted right."

"It is a cold day for the parley voos," laughed Big Mack Cameron. "Come up, lads, and take a taste of

Then the Murphy men, clearing away the fallen, rushed again. They strove to bring the Highlanders to a

"Keep the line, boys! Don't let 'em draw you!" And the Glengarry men waited till they could strike, and when

"Intil them, bhoys!" yelled Dan Murphy, keeping out of range himself. "Intil the divils!" And again and again

his men crowded down upon the line against the wall, but again and again they were beaten down or hurled

Meantime LeNoir was devoting himself to Black Hugh at one end of the line, dancing in upon him and away

again, but without much result. Black Hugh refused to be drawn out, and fought warily on defense, knowing

the odds were great and waiting his chance to deliver one good blow, which was all he asked.

The Glengarry men were enjoying themselves hugely, and when not shouting their battlecry, "Glengarry

forever!" or taunting their foes, they were joking each other on the fortunes of war. Big Mack Cameron, who

held the center, drew most of the sallies. He was easytempered and goodnatured, and took his knocks with

"That was a good one, Mack," said Dannie Ross, his special chum, as a sounding whack came in on Big

Mack's face. "As true as death I will be telling it to Bella Peter. Bella, the daughter of Peter McGregor, was

"What a peety she could not see him the now," said Finlay Campbell. "Man alive, she would say the word

"'Tis more than she will do to you whatever, if you cannot keep off that crapeau yonder a little better," said

Big Mack, reaching for a Frenchman who kept dodging in upon him with annoying persistence. Then Mack

'Tain't fair, Mack!" called out Yankee from his end of the line, "bad language in English is bad enough, but in

Gaelic it must be uncommon rough." So they gibed each other. But the tactics of the enemy were exceedingly

"Come to me, ye cowardly little devil," roared Mack to his persisting assailant. "No one will hurt you! Come

away, man! Aaahouch!" His cry of satisfaction at having grabbed his man ended in a howl of pain, for

the Frenchman had got Mack's thumb between his teeth, and was chewing it vigorously.

"Ye would, would you, ye dog?" roared Big Mack. He closed his fingers into the Frenchman's gullet, and

drew him up to strike, but on every side hands reached for him and stayed his blow. Then he lost himself.

With a yell of rage he jambed his man back into the crowd, sinking his fingers deeper and deeper into his

enemy's throat till his face grew black and his head fell over on one side. But it was a fatal move for Mack,

and overcome by numbers that crowded upon him, he went down fighting wildly and bearing the Frenchman

beneath him. The Glengarry line was broken. Black Hugh saw Mack's peril, and knew that it meant

destruction to all. With a wilder cry than usual, "Glengarry! Glengarry!" he dashed straight into LeNoir, who

gave back swiftly, caught two men who were beating Big Mack's life out, and hurled them aside, and

grasping his friend's collar, hauled him to his feet, and threw him back against the wall and into the line again

"Let dead men go, Mack," he cried, but even as he spoke LeNoir, seeing his opportunity, sprang at him and

with a backward kick caught Macdonald fair in the face and lashed him hard against the wall. It was the

terrible French 'lash' and was one of LeNoir's special tricks. Black Hugh, stunned and dazed, leaned back

against the wall, spreading out his hands weakly before his face. LeNoir, seeing victory within his grasp,

rushed in to finish off his special foe. But Yankee Jim, who, while engaged in cheerfully knocking back the

two Murphys and others who took their turn at him, had been keeping an eye on the line of battle, saw

Macdonald's danger, and knowing that the crisis had come, dashed across the line, crying "Follow me, boys."

His long arms swung round his head like the sails of a windmill, and men fell back from him as if they had

been made of wood. As LeNoir sprang, Yankee shot fiercely at him, but the Frenchman, too quick for him,

ducked and leaped upon Black Hugh, who was still swaying against the wall, bore him down and jumped

with his heavy "corked" boots on his breast and face. Again the Glengarry line was broken. At once the

crowd surged about the Glengarry men, who now stood back to back, beating off the men leaping at them

from every side, as a stag beats off dogs, and still chanting high their dauntless cry, "Glengarry forever," to

which Big Mack added at intervals, "To hell with the Papishes!" Yankee, failing to check LeNoir's attack

upon Black Hugh, fought off the men crowding upon him, and made his way to the corner where the

"Take that, you blamed cuss," he said, catching LeNoir in the jaw and knocking his head with a thud against

the wall. Before he could strike again he was thrown against his enemy, who clutched him and held like a

The Glengarry men had fought their fight, and it only remained for their foes to wreak their vengeance upon

them and wipe out old scores. One minute more would have done for them, but in that minute the door came

crashing in. There was a mighty roar, "Glengarry! Glengarry!" and the great Macdonald himself, with the boy

Ranald and some halfdozen of his men behind him, stood among them. On all hands the fight stopped. A

moment he stood, his great head and shoulders towering above the crowd, his tawny hair and beard falling

around his face like a great mane, his blue eyes gleaming from under his shaggy eyebrows like livid

lightning. A single glance around the room, and again raising his battlecry, "Glengarry!" he seized the

nearest shrinking Frenchman, lifted him high, and hurled him smashing into the bottles behind the counter.

His men, following him, bounded like tigers on their prey. A few minutes of fierce, eager fighting, and the

Glengarry men were all freed and on their feet, all except Black Hugh, who lay groaning in his corner. "Hold,

lads!" Macdonald Bhain cried, in his mighty voice. "Stop, I'm telling you." The fighting ceased.

"Dan Murphy!" he cried, casting his eye round the room, "where are you, ye son of Belial?"

"Ah! there you are!" cried Macdonald, and reaching through the crowd with his great, long arm, he caught

"Rrraat! Rrraat! Rrraat!" he snarled, shaking him till his teeth rattled. "It is yourself that

is the cause of this wickedness. Now, may the Lord have mercy on your soul." With one hand he gripped

Murphy by the throat, holding him at arm's length, and raised his huge fist to strike. But before the blow fell

"No!" he muttered, in a disappointed tone, "it is not good enough. I will not be demeaning myself. Hence,

you rraat!" As he spoke he lifted the shaking wretch as if he had been a bundle of clothes, swung him

"Is there no goot man here at all who will stand before me?" he raged in a wild, joyous fury. "Will not two of

you come forth, then?" No one moved. "Come to me!" he suddenly cried, and snatching two of the enemy, he

Then he caught sight of his brother for the first time lying in the corner with Big Mack supporting his head,

"What is this? What is this?" he cried, striding toward LeNoir. "And is it you that has done this work?" he

"Oui!" cried LeNoir, stepping back and putting up his hands, "das me; Louis LeNoir! by Gar!" He struck

"Out of my way!" cried Macdonald, swinging his open hand on the Frenchman's ear. With a swift sweep he

brushed LeNoir aside from his place, and ignoring him stooped over his brother. But LeNoir was no coward,

and besides his boasted reputation was at stake. He thought he saw his chance, and rushing at Macdonald as

he was bending over his brother, delivered his terrible 'lash'. But Macdonald had not lived with and fought

with Frenchmen all these years without knowing their tricks and ways. He saw LeNoir's 'lash' coming, and

"Ah! would ye? Take that, then, and be quate!" and so saying, he caught LeNoir on the side of the head and

"Keep him off a while, Yankee!" said Macdonald, for LeNoir was up again, and coming at him.

Then kneeling beside his brother he wiped the bloody froth that was oozing from his lips, and said in a low,

"Oichoh," Black Hugh groaned. "It was a necessityDonald man andhe took meunawareswith

"Indeed, and I'll warrant you!" agreed his brother, "but I will be attending to him, never you fear."

"You willnot bekilling him," he urged, between his painful gasps, "because I will be doing that myself

"Alas! alas!" he said, sadly, "it is not allowed me to smite him as he deserves'Vengeance is mine saith the

Lord,' and I have solemnly promised the minister not to smite for glory or for revenge! Alas! alas!"

Then turning to LeNoir, he said, gravely: "It is not given me to punish you for your coward's blow. Go from

"Bah!" he cried, contemptuously, "you tink me one baby, you strike me on de head side like one little boy.

Bon! Louis LeNware, de bes bully on de Hottawa, he's not 'fraid for hany man, by Gar!" He pranced up and

down before Macdonald, working himself into a great rage, as Macdonald grew more and more controlled.

Macdonald turned to his men with a kind of appeal"I hev given my promise, and Macdonald will not break

"Now may the Lord give me grace to withstand the enemy," said Macdonald, gravely, "for I am greatly

"Bah!" cried LeNoir again, mistaking Macdonald's quietness and selfcontrol for fear. "You no good! Your

"God help me," said Macdonald as if to himself. "I am a man of grace! But must this dog go unpunished?"

LeNoir continued striding up and down, now and then springing high in the air and knocking his heels

together with bloodcurdling yells. He seemed to feel that Macdonald would not fight, and his courage and

"Will you not be quate?" said Macdonald, rising after a few moments from his brother's side, where he had

been wiping his lips and giving him water to drink. "You will be better outside."

"Oui! you strike me on the head side. Bon! I strike you de same way! By Gar!" so saying he approached

"Ay," said Macdonald, growing white and rigid. "I struck you twice, LeNoir. Here!" he offered the other side

of his face. LeNoir danced up carefully, made a slight pass, and struck the offered cheek.

"Now, that is done, will it please you to do it again?" said Macdonald, with earnest entreaty in his voice.

LeNoir must have been mad with his rage and vanity, else he had caught the glitter in the blue eyes looking

through the shaggy hair. Again LeNoir approached, this time with greater confidence, and dealt Macdonald a

"Now the Lord be praised," he cried, joy breaking out in his face. "He has delivered my enemy into my hand.

For it is the third time he has smitten me, and that is beyond the limit appointed by Himself." With this he

LeNoir stood up against his antagonist. He well knew he was about to make the fight of his life. He had

beaten men as big as Macdonald, but he knew that his hope lay in keeping out of the enemy's reach. So he

danced around warily. Macdonald followed him slowly. LeNoir opened with a swift and savage reach for

Macdonald's neck, but failed to break the guard and danced out again, Macdonald still pressing on him.

Again and again LeNoir rushed, but the guard was impregnable, and steadily Macdonald advanced. That

steady, relentless advance began to tell on the Frenchman's nerves. The sweat gathered in big drops on his

forehead and ran down his face. He prepared for a supreme effort. Swiftly retreating, he lured Macdonald to a

more rapid advance, then with a yell he doubled himself into a ball and delivered himself head, hands, and

feet into Macdonald's stomach. It is a trick that sometimes avails to break an unsteady guard and to secure a

clinch with an unwary opponent. But Macdonald had been waiting for that trick. Stopping short, he leaned

over to one side, and stooping slightly, caught LeNoir low and tossed him clear over his head. LeNoir fell

with a terrible thud on his back, but was on his feet again like a cat and ready for the everadvancing

Macdonald. But though he had not been struck a single blow he knew that he had met his master. That

unbreakable guard, the smiling face with the gleaming, unsmiling eyes, that awful unwavering advance, were

too much for him. He was pale, his breath came in quick gasps, and his eyes showed the fear of a hunted

beast. He prepared for a final effort. Feigning a greater distress than he felt, he yielded weakly to

Macdonald's advance, then suddenly gathering his full strength he sprang into the air and lashed out

backward at that hated, smiling face. His boot found its mark, not on Macdonald's face, but fair on his neck.

The effect was terrific. Macdonald staggered back two or three paces, but before LeNoir could be at him, he

had recovered sufficiently to maintain his guard, and shake off his foe. At the yell that went up from

Murphy's men, the big Highlander's face lost its smile and became keen and cruel, his eyes glittered with the

flash of steel and he came forward once more with a quick, light tread. His great body seemed to lose both

size and weight, so lightly did he step on tiptoe. There was no more pause, but lightly, swiftly, and eagerly he

glided upon LeNoir. There was something terrifying in that swift, catlike movement. In vain the Frenchman

backed and dodged and tried to guard. Once, twice, Macdonald's fists fell. LeNoir's right arm hung limp by

his side and he staggered back to the wall helpless. Without an instant's delay, Macdonald had him by the

throat, and gripping him fiercely, began to slowly bend him backward over his knee. Then for the first time

"LeNoir," he said, solemnly, "the days of your boasting are over. You will no longer glory in your strength,

LeNoir tried to speak, but his voice came in horrible gurgles. His face was a ghastly greenish hue, lined with

purple and swollen veins, his eyes were standing out of his head, and his breath sobbing in raucous gasps.

Slowly the head went back. The crowd stood in horrorstricken silence waiting for the sickening snap.

Yankee, unable to stand it any longer, stepped up to his chief, and in a most matter of fact voice drawled out,

"About an inch more that way I guess 'll do the trick, if he ain't doublejointed."

"Tonald,"Black Hugh's voice sounded faint but clear in the awful silence"Tonaldyou will notbe

killinghim. Remember that now. I willneverforgive youif you willtake thatfrom my hands."

The cry for vengeance smote Macdonald to the heart, and recalled him to himself. He paused, threw back his

For some time he remained standing silent, with head down as if not quite sure of himself. He was recalled by

a grip of his arm. He turned and saw his nephew, Ranald, at his side. The boy's dark face was pale with

"And is that all you are going to do to him?" he demanded. Macdonald gazed at him.

"Do you not see what he has done?" he continued, pointing to his father, who was still lying propped up on

some coats. "Why did you not break his back? You said you would! The brute, beast!"

He hurled out the words in hot hate. His voice pierced the noise of the room. Macdonald stood still, gazing at

"My lad, 'Vengeance is mine saith the Lord.' It would have pleased me well, but the hand of the Lord was laid

"Then it is myself will kill him," he shrieked, springing like a wildcat at LeNoir. But his uncle wound his

arms around him and held him fast. For a minute and more he struggled fiercely, crying to be set free, till

recognizing the uselessness of his efforts he grew calm, and said quietly, "Let me loose, uncle; I will be

quiet." And his uncle set him free. The boy shook himself, and then standing up before LeNoir said, in a high,

"Will you hear me, LeNoir? The day will come when I will do to you what you have done to my father, and if

my father will die, then by the life of God [a common oath among the shantymen] I will have your life for

"Whist, whist, lad! be quate!" said his uncle; "these are not goot words." The lad heeded him not, but sank

down beside his father on the floor. Black Hugh raised himself on his elbow with a grim smile on his face.

"It is a goot lad whatever, but please God he will not need to keep his word." He laid his hand in a

momentary caress upon his boy's shoulder, and sank back again, saying, "Take me out of this."

"Dan Murphy, it is an ungodly and cowardly work you have done this day, and the curse of God will be on

you if you will not repent." Then he turned away, and with Big Mack's help bore his brother to the pointer,

followed by his men, bloody, bruised, but unconquered. But before he left the room LeNoir stepped forward,

and offering his hand, said, "You mak friends wit' me. You de boss bully on de reever Hottawa."

Then Yankee Jim remarked to Dan Murphy, "I guess you'd better git them logs out purty mighty quick. We'll

want the river in about two days." Dan Murphy said not a word, but when the Glengarry men wanted the river

But for Macdonald the fight was not yet over, for as he sat beside his brother, listening to his groans, his men

could see him wreathing his hands and chanting in an undertone the words, "Vengeance is mine saith the

Lord." And as he sat by the campfire that night listening to Yankee's account of the beginning of the trouble,

and heard how his brother had kept himself in hand, and how at last he had been foully smitten, Macdonald's

"God help me! Is this to go unpunished? I will seek him tomorrow." And he passed out into the dark woods.

After a few moments the boy Ranald slipped away after him to beg that he might be allowed to go with him

tomorrow. Stealing silently through the bushes he came to where he could see the kneeling figure of his

"Let me go, O Lord! Let me go!" He pled now in Gaelic and again in English. "Let not the man be escaping

his just punishment. Grant me this, O, Lord! Let me smite but once!" Then after a pause came the words,

"'Vengeance is mine saith the Lord!' Vengeance is mine! Ay, it is the true word! But, Lord, let not this man of

Belial, this Papish, escape!" Then again, like a refrain would come the words, "Vengeance is mine.

Vengeance is mine," in everdeeper agony, till throwing himself on his face, he lay silent a long time.

Suddenly he rose to his knees and so remained, looking steadfastly before him into the woods. The wind

came sighing through the pines with a wail and a sob. Macdonald shuddered and then fell on his face again.

The Vision was upon him. "Ah, Lord, it is the bloody hands and feet I see. It is enough." At this Ranald

slipped back awestricken to the camp. When, after an hour, Macdonald came back into the firelight, his face

was pale and wet, but calm, and there was an exalted look in his eyes. His men gazed at him with wonder and

"Whist now!" said Big Mack, in a low voice. "He has the sight. Be quate now, will you? He will be

For a short time Macdonald sat gazing into the fire in silence, then turning his face toward the men who were

waiting, he said: "There will be no more of this. 'Vengeance is mine saith the Lord!' It is not for me. The Lord

will do His own work. It is the will of the Lord." And the men knew that the last word had been said on that

Straight north from the St. Lawrence runs the road through the Indian Lands. At first its way lies through

open country, from which the forest has been driven far back to the horizon on either side, for along the great

river these many years villages have clustered, with open fields about them stretching far away. But when

once the road leaves the Front, with its towns and villages and open fields, and passes beyond Martintown

and over the North Branch, it reaches a country where the forest is more a feature of the landscape. And when

some dozen or more of the crossroads marking the concessions which lead off to east and west have been

passed, the road seems to strike into a different world. The forest loses its conquered appearance, and

dominates everything. There is forest everywhere. It lines up close and thick along the road, and here and

there quite overshadows it. It crowds in upon the little farms and shuts them off from one another and from

the world outside, and peers in through the little windows of the log houses looking so small and lonely, but

so beautiful in their forest frames. At the nineteenth crossroad the forest gives ground a little, for here the

road runs right past the new brick church, which is almost finished, and which will be opened in a few weeks.

Beyond the cross, the road leads along the glebe, and about a quarter of a mile beyond the corner there opens

upon it the big, heavy gate that the members of the Rev. Alexander Murray's congregation must swing when

they wish to visit the manse. The opening of this gate, made of upright poles held by augerholes in a frame

of bigger poles, was almost too great a task for the minister's sevenyearold son Hughie, who always rode

down, standing on the hind axle of the buggy, to open it for his father. It was a great relief to him when Long

John Cameron, who had the knack of doing things for people's comfort, brought his ax and big auger one day

and made a kind of cradle on the projecting end of the top bar, which he then weighted with heavy stones, so

that the gate, when once the pin was pulled out of the post, would swing back itself with Hughie straddled on

It was his favorite post of observation when waiting for his mother to come home from one of her many

meetings. And on this particular March evening he had been waiting long and impatiently.

Suddenly he shouted: "Horo, mamma! Horo!" He had caught sight of the little black pony away up at the

church hill, and had become so wildly excited that he was now standing on the top bar frantically waving his

Scotch bonnet by the tails. Down the slope came the pony on the gallop, for she knew well that soon Lambert

would have her saddle off, and that her nose would be deep into bran mash within five minutes more. But her

rider sat her firmly and brought her down to a gentle trot by the time the gate was reached.

"I'm sure I can't guess. Who is it?" It was a very bright and very sweet face, with large, serious, graybrown

"I am sure I can never guess. Whoa, Pony!" Pony was most unwilling to get in close enough to the gatepost

"You'll have to be quick, Hughie, when I get near again. There now! Whoa, Pony! Take care, child!"

Hughie had sprung clean off the post, and lighting on Pony's back just behind the saddle, had clutched his

"Now, mother, who is it?" insisted Hughie, as Lambert, the French Canadian manofallwork, lifted him

"No; his father was hurtedhurtawful bad. He was lying down in the sleigh, and Yankee Jim"

"Huhhuh," went on Hughie, breathlessly, "and YankeeMr. Latham asked if the minister was home, and I

The minister's wife went toward the house, with a shadow on her face. She shared with her husband his

people's sorrows. She knew even better than he the lifehistory of every family in the congregation.

Macdonald Dubh had long been classed among the wild and careless in the community, and it weighed upon

For a few moments she stood on the doorstep looking at the glow in the sky over the dark forest, which on

"Look, Hughie, at the beautiful tints in the clouds, and see the dark shadows pointing out toward us from the

"Oh, not quite, I hope, Hughie. But look, I want you to notice those clouds and the sky behind them. How

Her enthusiasm caught the boy, and for a few moment she forgot even his hunger, and holding his mother's

hand, gazed up at the western sky. It was a picture of rare beauty that lay stretched out from the manse back

door. Close to the barn came the pasturefield dotted with huge stumps, then the brule where the trees lay

fallen across one another, over which the fire had run, and then the solid wall of forest here and there

overtopped by the lofty crest of a white pine. Into the forest in the west the sun was descending in gorgeous

robes of glory. The treetops caught the yellow light, and gleamed like the golden spires of some great and

"Oh, mamma, see that big pine top! Doesn't it look like windows?" cried Hughie, pointing to one of the lofty

"Yes, I know," said Hughie, confidently, for to him all the scenes and stories of the Bible had long been

"Come away, then; so am I. What have you got, Jessie, for two very hungry people?"

"Porridge and pancakes," said Jessie, the minister's "girl," who not only ruled in the kitchen, but using the

"Oh, goody!" yelled Hughie; "just what I like." And from the plates of porridge and the piles of pancakes that

Their reading that night was about the city whose streets were of pure gold, and after a little talk, Hughie and

his baby brother were tucked away safely for the night, and the mother sat down to her neverending task of

The minister was away at Presbytery meeting in Montreal, and for ten days his wife would stand in the

breach. Of course the elders would take the meeting on the Sabbath day and on the Wednesday evening, but

for all other ministerial duties when the minister was absent the congregation looked to the minister's wife.

And soon it came that the sick and the sorrowing and the sinburdened found in the minister's wife such help

and comfort and guidance as made the absence of the minister seem no great trial after all. Eight years ago

the minister had brought his wife from a home of gentle culture, from a life of intellectual and artistic

pursuits, and from a circle of loving friends of which she was the pride and joy, to this home in the forest.

There, isolated from all congenial companionship with her own kind, deprived of all the luxuries and of many

of the comforts of her young days, and of the mental stimulus of that contact of minds without which few can

maintain intellectual life, she gave herself without stint to her husband's people, with never a thought of

selfpity or selfpraise. By day and by night she labored for her husband and family and for her people, for

she thought them hers. She taught the women how to adorn their rude homes, gathered them into Bible

classes and sewing circles, where she read and talked and wrought and prayed with them till they grew to

adore her as a saint, and to trust her as a leader and friend, and to be a little like her. And not the women only,

but the men, too, loved and trusted her, and the big boys found it easier to talk to the minister's wife than to

the minister or to any of his session. She made her own and her children's clothes, collars, hats, and caps, her

husband's shirts and neckties, toiling late into the morning hours, and all without frown or shadow of

complaint, and indeed without suspicion that any but the happiest lot was hers, or that she was, as her sisters

said, "just buried alive in the backwoods." Not she! She lived to serve, and the where and how were not hers

to determine. So, with bright face and brave heart, she met her days and faced the battle. And scores of

women and men are living better and braver lives because they had her for their minister's wife.

But the day had been long, and the struggle with the March wind pulls hard upon the strength, and outside the

pines were crooning softly, and gradually the brave head drooped till between the stitches she fell asleep. But

not for many minutes, for a knock at the kitchen door startled her, and before long she heard Jessie's voice

"Indeed, I'll do no such thing. This is no time to come to the minister's house."

"Oh, Ranald, I'm glad to see you back. Hughie told me you had come. But your father is ill, he said. How is

"He is very bad indeed, and my aunt is afraid that" The boy's lip trembled. Then he went on: "And she

"You will not stir a foot this night. You will send some medicine, and then you can go in the morning."

"Yes, it is just coming up," said Ranald, hurrying away to the stable that he might escape Jessie's wrath and

It was no unusual thing for the minister and his wife to be called upon to do duty for doctor and nurse. The

doctor was twenty miles away. So Mrs. Murray got into her ridinghabit, threw her knitted hood over her

head, put some simple medicines into her handbag, and in ten minutes was waiting for Ranald at the door.

The night was clear, with a touch of frost in the air, yet with the feeling in it of approaching spring. A dim

light fell over the forest from the halfmoon and the stars, and seemed to fill up the little clearing in which

the manse stood, with a weird and mysterious radiance. Far away in the forest the longdrawn howl of a wolf

rose and fell, and in a moment sharp and clear came an answer from the bush just at hand. Mrs. Murray

"The wolves are out, Ranald," she said, carelessly, as Ranald came up with the pony.

"They are not many, I think," answered the boy as carelessly; "but are youdo you thinkperhaps I

"Nonsense, Ranald! bring up the pony. Do you think I have lived all this time in Indian Lands to be afraid of

"Indeed, you are not afraid, I know that well!" Ranald shrank from laying the crime of being afraid at the

door of the minister's wife, whose fearlessness was proverbial in the community; "but maybe" The truth

"We will go by the Camerons' clearing, and then take their wood track. It is a better road," said Ranald, after

"Now, Ranald, you think I am afraid of the swamp, and by the Camerons' is much longer."

"Indeed, I hear them say that you are not afraid of theof anything," said Ranald, quickly, "but this road is

"Come on, then, with your colt"; and the pony darted away on her quickspringing gallop, followed by the

colt going with a long, easy, loping stride. For a mile they kept side by side till they reached the Camerons'

lane, when Ranald held in the colt and allowed the pony to lead. As they passed through the Camerons' yard

the big black dogs, famous bearhunters, came baying at them. The pony regarded them with indifference,

"Whoa, Liz!" Liz was Ranald's contraction for Lizette, the name of the French horsetrainer and breeder,

Jules La Rocque, gave to her mother, who in her day was queen of the ice at L'Original Christmas races.

"Be quate, Nigger, will you!" The dogs, who knew Ranald well, ceased their clamor, but not before the

"Father is not well. He is hurted, and Mrs. Murray is going to see him, and we must go."

"We will come out at our own clearing at the back, you know," Ranald hurried to say, giving Don a kick.

"Whist, man! She is set upon going." At that moment away off toward the swamp, which they were avoiding,

the long, heartchilling cry of a mother wolf quavered on the still night air. In spite of herself, Mrs. Murray

"There is only one," said Ranald in a low voice to Don, but they both knew that where the she wolf is there is

"Come, Ranald! Come away, you can talk to Don any time. Good night, Don." And so saying she headed her

pony toward the clearing and was off at a gallop, and Ranald, shaking his head at his friend, ejaculated:

Together they entered the bush. The road was well beaten and the horses were keen to go, so that before

many minutes were over they were half through the bush. Ranald's spirits rose and he began to take some

interest in his companion's observations upon the beauty of the lights and shadows falling across their path.

"Look at that very dark shadow from the spruce there, Ranald," she cried, pointing to a deep, black turn in the

road. For answer there came from behind them the long, mournful huntingcry of the wolf. He was on their

track. Immediately it was answered by a chorus of howls from the bush on the swamp side, but still far away.

There was no need of command; the pony sprang forward with a snort and the colt followed, and after a few

"Whowooooooow" rose the long cry of the pursuer, summoning help, and drawing nearer.

"Woweewow," came the shorter, sharper answer from the swamp, but much nearer than before and more

"It is a good road," he said, quietly; "you can let the pony go. I will follow you." He swung in behind the

"God preserve us!" said Ranald to himself. He had caught sight of a dark form as it darted through the gleam

Ranald glanced over his shoulder. Down the road, running with silent, awful swiftness, he saw the long, low

body of the leading wolf flashing through the bars of moonlight across the road, and the pack following hard.

"Let her go, Mrs. Murray," cried Ranald. "Whip her and never stop." But there was no need; the pony was

Ranald meantime was gradually holding in the colt, and the pony drew away rapidly. But as rapidly the

wolves were closing in behind him. They were not more than a hundred yards away, and gaining every

second. Ranald, remembering the suspicious nature of the brutes, loosened his coat and dropped it on the

road; with a chorus of yelps they paused, then threw themselves upon it, and in another minute took up the

But now the clearing was in sight. The pony was far ahead, and Ranald shook out his colt with a yell. He was

none too soon, for the pursuing pack, now uttering short, shrill yelps, were close at the colt's heels. Lizette,

fleet as the wind, could not shake them off. Closer and ever closer they came, snapping and snarling. Ranald

could see them over his shoulder. A hundred yards more and he would reach his own back lane. The leader of

the pack seemed to feel that his chances were slipping swiftly away. With a spurt he gained upon Lizette,

reached the saddlegirths, gathered himself in two short jumps, and sprang for the colt's throat. Instinctively

Ranald stood up in his stirrups, and kicking his foot free, caught the wolf under the jaw. The brute fell with a

The savage brutes, discouraged by their leader's fall, slowed down their fierce pursuit, and hearing the deep

bay of the Macdonalds' great deerhound, Bugle, up at the house, they paused, sniffed the air a few minutes,

then turned and swiftly and silently slid into the dark shadows. Ranald, knowing that they would hardly dare

"I'll have some of your hides some day," he cried, shaking his fist after them. He hated to be made to run.

He had hardly set the colt's face homeward when he heard something tearing down the lane to meet him. The

colt snorted, swerved, and then dropping his ears, stood still. It was Bugle, and after him came Mrs. Murray

"Oh, Ranald!" she panted, "thank God you are safe. I was afraid youyou" Her voice broke in sobs. Her

hood had fallen back from her white face, and her eyes were shining like two stars. She laid her hand on

Ranald's arm, and her voice grew steady as she said: "Thank God, my boy, and thank you with all my heart.

You risked your life for mine. You are a brave fellow! I can never forget this!"

"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, awkwardly. "You are better stuff than I am. You came back with Bugle. And I

knew Liz could beat the pony whatever. Then they walked their horses quietly to the stable, and nothing more

was said by either of them; but from that hour Ranald had a friend ready to offer life for him, though he did

Macdonald Dubh's farm lay about three miles north and west from the manse, and the house stood far back

from the crossroad in a small clearing encircled by thick bush. It was a hard farm to clear, the timber was

heavy, the land lay low, and Macdonald Dubh did not make as much progress as his neighbors in his conflict

with the forest. Not but that he was a hard worker and a good man with the ax, but somehow he did not

succeed as a farmer. It may have been that his heart was more in the forest than in the farm. He was a famous

hunter, and in the deer season was never to be found at home, but was ever ranging the woods with his rifle

He made money at the shanties, but money would not stick to his fingers, and by the time the summer was

over most of his money would be gone, with the government mortgage on his farm still unlifted. His habits of

life wrought a kind of wildness in him which set him apart from the thrifty, steadygoing people among

whom he lived. True, the shantymen were his stanch friends and admirers, but then the shantymen, though

welldoing, could hardly be called steady, except the boss of the Macdonald gang, Macdonald Bhain, who

was a regular attendant and stanch supporter of the church, and indeed had been spoken of for an elder. But

from the church Macdonald Dubh held aloof. He belonged distinctly to the "careless," though he could not be

called irreligious. He had all the reverence for "the Word of God, and the Sabbath day, and the church" that

characterized his people. All these held a high place in his esteem; and though he would not presume to "take

the books," not being a member of the church, yet on the Sabbath day when he was at home it was the custom

of the household to gather for the reading of the Word before breakfast. He would never take his rifle with

him through the woods on the Sabbath, and even when absent from home on a hunting expedition, when the

Sabbath day came round, he religiously kept camp. It is true, he did not often go to church, and when the

minister spoke to him about this, he always agreed that it was a good thing to go to church. When he had no

better excuse, he would apologize for his absence upon the ground "that he had not the clothes." The greater

part of the trouble was that he was shy and proud, and felt himself to be different from the churchgoing

people of the community, and shrank from the surprised looks of members, and even from the words of

It was not according to his desire that Ranald was sent to the manse. That was the doing of his sister, Kirsty,

who for the last ten years had kept house for him. Not that there was much housekeeping skill about Kirsty,

as indeed any one might see even without entering Macdonald Dubh's house. Kirsty was big and strong and

willing, but she had not the most elemental ideas of tidiness. Her red, bushy hair hung in wisps about her

face, after the greater part of it had been gathered into a tight knob at the back of her head. She was a martyr

to the "neuralagy," and suffered from a perennial cold in the head, which made it necessary for her to wear a

cloud, which was only removed when it could be replaced by her nightcap. Her face always bore the marks of

her labors, and from it one could gather whether she was among the pots or busy with the baking. But she

was kindhearted, and, up to her light, sought to fill the place left empty by the death of the wife and mother in

When the minister's wife opened the door, a hot, close, foul smell rushed forth to meet her. Upon the kitchen

stove a large pot of pig's food was boiling, and the steam and smell from the pot made the atmosphere of the

room overpoweringly fetid. Off the kitchen or livingroom were two small bedrooms, in one of which lay

Kirsty met the minister's wife with a warm welcome. She helped her off with her hood and coat, patting her

"Ah, M'eudail! M'eudail bheg! and did you come through the night all the way, and it is ashamed that I am to

have sent for you, but he was very bad and I was afraid. Come away! come away! I will make you a cup of

tea." But the minister's wife assured Kirsty that she was glad to come, and declining the cup of tea, went to

the room where Macdonald Dubh lay tossing and moaning with the delirium of fever upon him. It was not

With hot fomentations she proceeded to allay the pain, and in half an hour Macdonald Dubh grew quiet. His

"Now, Kirsty," said Mrs. Murray, in a very matteroffact tone, "we will just make him a little more

"Yes," said Kirsty, not quite sure how the feat was to be achieved. "A little hot something for his inside will

"Senny and dandylion, and a little whisky. They will be telling me it is ferry good whatever for the stomach

"I don't think I would give him any more of that; but we will try and make him feel a little more

Mrs. Murray knew she was treading on delicate ground. The Highland pride is quick to take offense.

"Sick people, you see," she proceeded carefully, "need very frequent changessheets and clothing, you

"I am sure you have plenty of beautiful sheets, and we will change these when he wakes from his sleep."

"Indeed, they are very clean, for there is no one but myself has slept in them since he went away last fall to

"Indeed, that is right, Kirsty; one can never tell just what sort of people are traveling about nowadays."

"Indeed, and it's true," said Kirsty, heartily, "but I never let them in here. I just keep them to the bunk."

"But," pursued Mrs. Murray, returning to the subject in hand, "it is very important that for sick people the

sheets should be thoroughly aired and warmed. Why, in the hospital in Montreal they take the very greatest

care to air and change the sheets every day. You see so much poison comes through the pores of the skin."

"Do you hear that now?" said Kirsty, amazed. "Indeed, I would be often hearing that those French people are

just full of poison and such, and indeed, it is no wonder, for the food they put inside of them."

"O, no, " said Mrs. Murray, "it is the same with all people, but especially so with sick people."

Kirsty looked as doubtful as was consistent with her respect for the minister's wife, and Mrs. Murray went on.

"So you will just get the sheets ready to change, and, Kirsty, a clean nightshirt."

"Nightshirt! and indeed, he has not such a thing to his name." Kirsty's tone betrayed her thankfulness that

her brother was free from the effeminacy of a nightshirt; but noting the dismay and confusion on Mrs.

Murray's face, she suggested, hesitatingly, "He might have one of my own, but I am thinking it will be small

"I am afraid so, Kirsty," said the minister's wife, struggling hard with a smile. "We will just use one of his

own white shirts." But this scandalized Kirsty as an unnecessary and wasteful luxury.

"Indeed, there is plenty of them in the chist, but he will be keeping them for the communion season, and the

funerals, and such. He will not be wearing them in his bed, for no one will be seeing him there at all."

"But he will feel so much better," said Mrs. Murray, and her smile was so sweet and winning that Kirsty's

opposition collapsed, and without more words both sheets and shirt were produced.

As Kirsty laid them out she observed with a sigh: "Aye, aye, she was the clever womanthe wife, I mean.

"I did not know her," said Mrs. Murray, softly, "but every one tells me she was a good housekeeper and a

"She was that," said Kirsty, emphatically, "and she was the light of his eyes, and it was a bad day for Hugh

"Now, Kirsty," said Mrs. Murray, after a pause, "before we put on these clean things, we will just give him a

"Mercy sakes! He will not be needing that in the winter, and he will be getting a cold from it. In the

summertime he will be going to the river himself. And how will you be giving him a bath whatever?"

Mrs. Murray carefully explained the process, again fortifying her position by referring to the practices of the

Montreal hospital, till, as a result of her persuasions and instructions, in an hour after Macdonald had

awakened from his sleep he was lying in his Sabbath white shirt and between fresh sheets, and feeling cleaner

and more comfortable than he had for many a day. The fever was much reduced, and he fell again into a deep

The two women watched beside him, for neither would leave the other to watch alone. And Ranald, who

could not be persuaded to go up to his loft, lay on the bunk in the kitchen and dozed. After an hour had

passed, Mrs. Murray inquired as to the nourishment Kirsty had given her brother.

"Indeed, he will not be taking anything whatever," said Kirsty, in a vexed tone. "And it is no matter what I

"Indeed, he will be taking anything when he is not seek, and he is that fond of buckwheat pancakes and pork

gravy with maple syrup over them, but would he look at it! And I made him new porridge tonight, but he

"Mercy me, and is it Macdonald Dubh and gruel? He would be flinging the 'feushionless' stuff out of the

"But I am sure it would be good for him if he could be persuaded to try it. I should like to try him."

"Indeed, and you may try. It will be easy enough, for the porridge are still in the pot."

Kirsty took the pot from the bench, with the remains of the porridge that had been made for supper still in it,

set it on the fire, and pouring some water in it, began to stir it vigorously. It was thick and slimy, and

altogether a most repulsivelooking mixture, and Mrs. Murray no longer wondered at Macdonald Dubh's

"I think I will make some fresh, if you will let me, Kirstyin the way I make it for the minister, you know."

Kirsty, by this time, had completely surrendered to Mrs. Murray's guidance, and producing the oatmeal,

allowed her to have her way; so that when Macdonald awoke he found Mrs. Murray standing beside him with

He greeted the minister's wife with grave courtesy, drank the gruel, and then lay down again to sleep.

"Will you look at that now?" said Kirsty, amazed at Macdonald Dubh's forbearance. "He would not like to be

Then Mrs. Murray besought Kirsty to go and lie down for an hour, which Kirsty very unwillingly agreed to

It was not long before Macdonald began to toss and mutter in his sleep, breaking forth now and then into wild

cries and curses. He was fighting once more his great fight in the Glengarry line, and beating back LeNoir.

"Back, ye devil! Would ye? Take that, then. Come back, Mack!" Then followed a cry so wild that Ranald

"Bring in some snow, Ranald," said the minister's wife; "we will lay some on his head."

She bathed the hot face and hands with icecold water, and then laid a snow compress on the sick man's

head, speaking to him in quiet, gentle tones, till he was soothed again to sleep.

When the gray light of the morning came in through the little window, Macdonald woke sane and quiet.

"Yes," he said, "I am very well, thank you, except for the pain here." He pointed to his chest.

Macdonald glanced at her quickly, and then answered: "It is very dangerous work with the trees. It is

"I think you had better send for Doctor Grant," Mrs. Murray said. "There may be some internal injury."

"No, no," said Macdonald, decidedly. "I will have no doctor at me, and I will soon be round again, if the Lord

But Mrs. Murray, ignoring his attempt to escape the subject, went on: "Yes, but, Mr. Macdonald, I am

anxious to have Doctor Grant see you, and I wish you would send for him tomorrow."

"Ah, well," said Macdonald, not committing himself, "we will be seeing about that. But the doctor has not

been in this house for many a day." Then, after a pause, he added, in a low voice, "Not since the day she was

"Indeed, no. It was just one night. There was no doctor, and the women could not help her, and she was very

badand when it came it was a girland it was deadand then the doctor arrived, but he was too late."

Macdonald Dubh finished with a great sigh, and the minister's wife said gently to him:

"Aye, you may say it; she was a bonnie woman whatever, and grand at the spinning and the butter. And,

The minister's wife sat silent, knowing that such grief cannot be comforted, and pitying from her heart the

"I have heard of her often, Mr. Macdonald, and I have heard that she was a good and gentle woman."

"Aye, and neither rain nor snow nor mud would be keeping her from it, but she would be going every

"Aye, to change her feet in the church. What else? Her stockings would be wet with the snow and water."

"Indeed, I believe it well, but she was afraid she would not be having 'the marks.'"

"Never you fear, Mr. Macdonald," said Mrs. Murray. "If she loved her Saviour she is with him now."

He turned around to her and lifted himself eagerly on his elbow. "And do you really think that?" he said, in a

Macdonald sank back on his pillow, and after a moment's silence, said, in a voice of pain: "Oh, but it is a

peety she did not know! It is a peety she did not know. For many's the time before beforeher hour came

"Indeed, no. I wondered at her. She was like a babe in its mother's arms. There was a light on her face, and I

mind well what she said." Macdonald paused. There was a stir in the kitchen, and Mrs. Murray, glancing

behind her, saw Ranald standing near the door intently listening. Then Macdonald went on. "I mind well the

words, as if it was yesterday. 'Hugh, my man,' she said, 'am no feared' (she was from the Lowlands, but she

was a fine woman); 'I haena the marks, but 'm no feared but He'll ken me. Ye'll tak' care o' Ranald, for, oh,

Hugh! I ha' gi'en him to the Lord. The Lord help you to mak' a guid man o' him.'" Macdonald's voice faltered

into silence, then, after a few moments, he cried, "And oh! Mistress Murra', I cannot tell you the often these

words do keep coming to me; and it is myself that has not kept the promise I made to her, and may the Lord

The look of misery in the dark eyes touched Mrs. Murray to the heart. She laid her hand on Macdonald's arm,

By this time the tears were streaming down her face, and Mrs. Murray could only say, brokenly, "You know I

"Aye, I do," said Macdonald, with a sigh of content, and he turned his face away from her to the wall.

"And now you let me read to you," she said, softly, and taking from her bag the Gaelic Bible, which with

much toil she had learned to read since coming to this Highland congregation, she read to him from the old

Psalm those words, brave, tender, and beautiful, that have so often comforted the weary and wandering

children of men, "The Lord is my Shepherd," and so on to the end. Then from psalm to psalm she passed,

selecting such parts as suited her purpose, until Macdonald turned to her again and said, admiringly:

"I am afraid," she said, with a smile, "it is not really good, but it is the best a south country woman can do."

"Oh, the English will be very good," said Macdonald, and she knelt down and in simple words poured out her

heart in prayer. Before she rose from her knees she opened the Gaelic Bible, and turned to the words of the

Macdonald, bowing his head gravely, answered: "It is what she would often be doing with me."

There was still only one woman to this lonely hearted man, and with a sudden rush of pity that showed itself

in her breaking voice, the minister's wife began in Gaelic, "Our Father which art in heaven."

Macdonald followed her in a whisper through the petitions until they came to the words, "And forgive us our

debts as we forgive our debtors," when he paused and would say no more. Mrs. Murray repeated the words of

the petition, but still there was no response. Then the minister's wife knew that she had her finger upon a sore

For a time she sat silent, unwilling to probe the wound, and yet too brave to flinch from what she felt to be

"We have much to be forgiven," she said, gently. "More than we can ever forgive." Still there was silence.

"And the heart that cannot forgive an injury is closed to the forgiveness of God."

The morning sun was gleaming through the treetops, and Mrs. Murray was worn with her night's vigil, and

anxious to get home. She rose, and offering Macdonald her hand, smiled down into his face, and said: "Good

As he took her hand, Macdonald's dark face began to work, and he broke forth into a bitter cry.

"He took me unawares! And it was a coward's blow! and I will not forgive him until I have given him what

he deserves, if the Lord spares me!" And then he poured forth, in hot and bitter words, the story of the great

fight. By the time he had finished his tale Ranald had come in from the kitchen, and was standing with

As Mrs. Murray listened to this story her eyes began to burn, and when it was over, she burst forth: "Oh, it

was a cruel and cowardly and brutal thing for men to do! And did you beat them off?" she asked.

"Aye, and that we did," burst in Ranald. And in breathless haste and with flashing eye he told them of

"But he let him go," said Ranald, sadly. "He would not strike him, but just let him go."

Then the minister's wife cried again: "Ah, he is a great man, your uncle! And a great Christian. Greater than I

could have been, for I would have slain him then and there." Her eyes flashed, and the color flamed in her

"Aye," said Macdonald Dubh, regarding her with deep satisfaction. His tone and look recalled the minister's

"That," cried Ranald, with fierce emphasis, "I will never do, until once I will be having my hands on his

"Hush, Ranald!" said the minister's wife. "I know it is hard, but we must forgive. You see we MUST forgive.

But she said no more to Macdonald Dubh on that subject that morning. The fire of the battle was in her heart,

and she felt she could more easily sympathize with his desire for vengeance than with the Christian grace of

forgiveness. But as they rode home together through the bush, where death had trailed them so closely the

night before, the sweet sunlight and the crisp, fresh air, and all the still beauty of the morning, working with

the memory of their saving, rebuked and soothed and comforted her, and when Ranald turned back from the

manse door, she said softly: "Our Father in heaven was very good to us, Ranald, and we should be like him.

And Ranald, looking into the sweet face, pale with the long night's trials, but tinged now with the faintest

touch of color from the morning, felt somehow that it might be possible to forgive.

But many days had to come and go, and many waters flow over the souls of Macdonald Dubh and his son

Ranald, before they were able to say, "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors."

The night race with the wolves began a new phase of life for Ranald, for in that hour he gained a friend such

as it falls to few lads to have. Mrs. Murray's high courage in the bush, her skill in the sickroom, and that fine

spiritual air she carried with her made for her a place in his imagination where men set their divinities. The

hero and the saint in her stirred his poetic and fervent soul and set it aglow with a feeling near to adoration.

To Mrs. Murray also the events of that night set forth Ranald in a new light. In the shy, awkward, almost

sullen lad there had suddenly been revealed in those moments of peril the cool, daring man, full of resource

and capable of selfsacrifice. Her heart went out toward him, and she set herself to win his confidence and to

Macdonald Dubh and his son, living a halfsavage life in their lonely back clearing, were regarded by their

neighbors with a certain degree of distrust and fear. They were not like other people. They seldom mingled in

the social festivities of the community, and consequently were more or less excluded from friendship and free

intercourse with their neighbors. Ranald, shy, proud, and sensitive, felt this exclusion, and in return kept

himself aloof even from the boys, and especially from the girls, of his own age. His attendance at school was

of a fragmentary and spasmodic nature, and he never really came to be on friendly terms with his

fellowpupils. His one friend was Don Cameron, whom the boys called "Wobbles," from his gait in running,

whose father's farm backed that of Macdonald Dubh. And though Don was a year older, he gave to Ranald a

homage almost amounting to worship, for in all those qualities that go to establish leadership among boys,

Ranald was easily first. In the sport that called for speed, courage, and endurance Ranald was chief of all.

Fleet of foot, there was no runner from the Twelfth to the Twentieth that could keep him in sight, and when

he stood up to fight, the mere blaze of his eyes often won him victory before a blow was struck. To Don,

Ranald opened his heart more than to any one else; all others he kept at a distance.

It was in vain that Mrs. Murray, in her daily visits to Macdonald Dubh, sought to find out Ranald and to come

to speech with him. Aunt Kirsty never knew where he was, and to her calls, long and loud, from the back

door and from the front, no response ever came. It was Hughie Murray who finally brought Ranald once

They had come one early morning, Hughie with Fido "hitched" in a sled driving over the "crust" on the snow

banks by the roadside, and his mother on the pony, to make their call upon the sick man. As they drew near

"That's Ranald, mother!" exclaimed Hughie. "Let me go and find him. I don't want to go in."

"Be sure you don't go far away, then, Hughie; you know we must hurry home today"; and Hughie faithfully

promised. But alas for Hughie's promises! when his mother came out of the house with Kirsty, he was within

"Aye, the sugaring camp down yonder in the sugar bush. It is not far off from the wood road. I will be going

"Not at all, Kirsty," said the minister's wife. "I think I know where it is, and I can go home that way quite

well. Besides, I want to see Ranald." She did not say she would rather see him alone.

"Indeed, he is the quare lad, and he is worse since coming back from the shanties." Kirsty was evidently

"Never mind," said the minister's wife, kindly; "we must just be patient. Ranald is going on fast toward

"Aye," said Kirsty, with a sigh, "I doubt his father will never be able any more to take a strap to him."

"Beyond it!" exclaimed Kirsty, astonished at such a doctrine. "Indeed, and his father and his uncle would be

getting it then, when they were as beeg as they will ever be, and much the better were they for it."

"I don't think it would do for Ranald," said the minister's wife, smiling again as she said good by to Kirsty.

Then she took her way down the wood road into the bush. She found the camp road easily, and after a quarter

of an hour's ride, she heard the sound of an ax, and soon came upon the sugar camp. Ranald was putting the

finishing touches to a little shanty of cedar poles and interwoven balsam brush, and Hughie was looking on in

"Why, that's beautiful," said Mrs. Murray; "I should like to live in a house like that myself."

"Oh, mother!" shouted Hughie, "isn't it splendid? Ranald and Don are going to live in it all the sugaring time,

The mother looked down upon the eager face, smiled, and shook her head. "What about the night, Hughie?"

she said. "It will be very dark in the woods here, and very cold, too. Ranald and Don are big boys and strong,

"Oh, mother, we'll be inside, and it'll be awful warmand oh, you might let me!" Hughie's tears were

A shadow crossed his mother's face, but she only answered quietly, "Never mind just now, Hughie; we will

think of it. Besides," she added, "I don't know how much Ranald wants to be bothered with a wee boy like

"He will be no trouble, Mrs. Murray"; and then, noticing Hughie's imploring face, he ventured to add, "and

"Oh, mother!" cried Hughie, seeing her hesitation, "just one night; I won't be a bit afraid."

"No, I don't believe you would," looking down into the brave young face. "But what about your mother,

"Oh, pshaw! you wouldn't be afraid." Hughie's confidence in his mother's courage was unbounded.

"I don't know about that," she replied; and then turning to Ranald, "How about our friends of the other

night?" she said. "Will they not be about?" Hughie had not heard about the wolves.

"Oh, there is no fear of them. We will keep a big fire all night, and besides, we will have our guns and the

"Guns!" cried Mrs. Murray. This was a new terror for her boy. "I'm afraid I cannot trust Hughie where there

"Indeed, let me catch him touching a gun!" said Ranald, quickly, and from his tone and the look in his face,

Mrs. Murray felt sure that Hughie would be safe from selfdestruction by the guns.

"Well, well, come away, Hughie, and we will see," said Mrs. Murray; but Hughie hung back sulking,

Still Hughie hesitated. Then Ranald turned swiftly on him. "Did ye hear your mother? Come, get out of this."

His manner was so fierce that Hughie started immediately for his dog, and without another word of entreaty

made ready to go. The mother noted his quick obedience, and smiling at Ranald, said: "I think I might trust

him with you for a night or two, Ranald. When do you think you could come for him?"

"We will finish the tapping tomorrow, and I could come the day after with the jumper," said Ranald,

pointing to the stout, home made sleigh used for gathering the sap and the wood for the fire.

"Oh, I see you have begun tapping," said Mrs. Murray; "and do you do it yourself?"

"Why, yes, mother; don't you see all those trees?" cried Hughie, pointing to a number of maples that stood

behind the shanty. "Ranald and Don did all those, and made the spiles, too. See!" He caught up a spile from a

"Oh, mother!" Hughie's voice was full of pity for her ignorance. He had seen his first that afternoon.

"And I have never seen the tapping of a tree. I believe I shall learn just now, if Ranald will only show me,

Her eager interest in his work won Ranald from his reserve. "There is not much to see," he said,

"Oh, but wait," she cried. "That's just what I wanted to see. How do you make the spile?"

"Oh, that is easy," said Ranald. He took up a slightly concave chisel or gouge, and slit a slim slab from off a

"This is a spile," he exclaimed. "We drive it into the tree, and the sap runs down into the trough, you see."

"No, I don't see," said the minister's wife. She was too thoroughgoing to do things by halves. "How do you

"I will show you," he said, and taking with him a gouge and ax, he approached a maple still untapped. "You

first make a gash like this." So saying, with two or three blows of his ax, he made a slanting notch in the tree.

"And then you make a place for the spile this way." With the back of his ax he drove his gouge into the

"Ah, now I see. And you put the trough under the drip from the spile. But how do you make the troughs?"

"I did not make them," said Ranald. "Some of them father made, and some of them belong to the Camerons.

But it is easy enough. You just take a thick slab of basswood and hollow it out with the adze."

Mrs. Murray was greatly pleased. "I'm very much obliged to you, Ranald," she said, "and I am glad I came

down to see your camp. Now, if you will ask me, I should like to see you make the sugar." Had her request

been made before the night of their famous ride, Ranald would have found some polite reason for refusal, but

now he was rather surprised to find himself urging her to come to a sugaringoff at the close of the season.

"I shall be delighted to come," cried Mrs. Murray, "and it is very good of you to ask me, and I shall bring my

Ranald's face fell, but his Highland courtesy forbade retreat. "If she would care," he said, doubtfully.

"Oh, I am sure she would be very glad! She has never been outside of the city, and I want her to learn all she

can of the country and the woods. It is positively painful to see the ignorance of these city children in regard

to all living thingsbeasts and birds and plants. Why, many of them couldn't tell a beech from a basswood."

"Yes, indeed, it is dreadful, I assure you," said his mother, smiling. "Why, I know a grownup woman who

didn't know till after she was married the difference between a spruce and a pine."

"But you know them all now," said Hughie, a little anxious for his mother's reputation.

"Yes, indeed," said his mother, proudly; "every one, I think, at least when the leaves are out. So I want

Ranald did not like the idea any too well, but after they had gone his thoughts kept turning to the proposed

"Maimie," said Ranald to himself. "So that is her name." It had a musical sound, and was different from the

names of the girls he knewBetsy and Kirsty and Jessie and Marget and Jinny. It was finer somehow than

these, and seemed to suit better a city girl. He wondered if she would be nice, but he decided that doubtless

she would be "proud." To be "proud" was the unpardonable sin with the Glengarry boy. The boy or girl

convicted of this crime earned the contempt of all selfrespecting people. On the whole, Ranald was sorry

she was coming. Even in school he was shy with the girls, and kept away from them. They were always

giggling and blushing and making one feel queer, and they never meant what they said. He had no doubt

Maimie would be like the rest, and perhaps a little worse. Of course, being Mrs. Murray's niece, she might be

something like her. Still, that could hardly be. No girl could ever be like the minister's wife. He resolved he

would turn Maimie over to Don. He remembered, with great relief, that Don did not mind girls; indeed, he

suspected Don rather enjoyed playing the "forfeit" games at school with them, in which the penalties were

paid in kisses. How often had he shuddered and admired from a distance, while Don and the others played

those daring games! Yes, Don would do the honors for Maimie. Perhaps Don would even venture to play

"forfeits" with her. Ranald felt his face grow hot at this thought. Then, with sudden selfdetection, he cried,

But Ranald, ignoring him, simply said, "We will need to be gathering the sap this evening, for the troughs

"Huhhuh," said Don. "I guess we can carry all there is today, but we will have to get the colt tomorrow.

"Enough for today," said Ranald, wondering how he could tell Don of the proposed visit of Mrs. Murray

and her niece. Taking each a bundle of spiles and an ax, the boys set out for the part of the sugar bush as yet

"Huhhuh, I met them down the road. Hughie said he was coming day after tomorrow."

"No; they didn't stop long enough to tell me anything. Hughie shouted at me as they passed."

"Well," said Ranald, speaking slowly and with difficulty, "she wanted bad to see the sugarmaking, and I

"Well, she is the daughter of the big lumberman, St. Clair, and she is a great swell."

Then Ranald grew angry. "And why not?" he said, defiantly. "What is wrong about that?"

"O, nothing much," laughed Don, "if I had done it, but for you, Ranald! Why, what will you do with that

"Oh, I say," burst in Don, "that's bully! Let's ask some of the boys, andyour aunt, andmy mother,

"You get out!" cried Don, indignantly; "Marget Aird!" Then, after a pause, he added, "All right, I don't want

anybody else. I'll look after Mrs. Murray, and you and Maimie can do what you like."

This combination sounded so terrible to Ranald that he surrendered at once; and it was arranged that there

should be a grand sugaring off, and that others besides the minister's wife and her niece should be invited.

But Mrs. Murray had noticed the falling of Ranald's face at the mention of Maimie's visit to the camp, and

feeling that she had taken him at a disadvantage, she determined that she would the very next day put herself

right with him. She was eager to follow up the advantage she had gained the day before in establishing terms

of friendship with Ranald, for her heart went out to the boy, in whose deep, passionate nature she saw vast

possibilities for good or ill. On her return from her daily visit to Macdonald Dubh, she took the camp road,

and had the good fortune to find Ranald alone, "rigging up" his kettles preparatory to the boiling. But she had

"I came to see you, Ranald," she said, after she had shaken hands with him, "about our sugaringoff. I've

been thinking that it would perhaps be better to have no strangers, but just old friends, you and Don and

Ranald at once caught her meaning, but found himself strangely unwilling to be extricated from his

"I mean," said Mrs. Murray, frankly, "we might enjoy it better without my niece; and so, perhaps, we could

have the sugaring when I come to bring Hughie home on Friday. Maimie does not come till Saturday."

Her frankness disarmed Ranald of his reserve. "I know well what you mean," he said, without his usual

awkwardness, "but I do not mind now at all having your niece come; and Don is going to have a party." The

quiet, grave tone was that of a man, and Mrs. Murray looked at the boy with new eyes. She did not know that

"You will soon be a man, Ranald." Ranald remained silent, and she went on earnestly: "A strong, good, brave

The blood rushed to the boy's face with a sudden flood, but still he stood silent.

"I'm going to give you Hughie for two days," she continued, in the same earnest voice; and leaning down

over her pony's neck toward him: "I want him to know strong and manly boys. He is very fond of you,

Ranald. He thinks you are better than any man in the world." She paused, her lips parting in a smile that made

Ranald's heart beat quick. Then she went on with a shy hesitancy: "Ranald, I know the boys sometimes drop

words they should not and tell stories unfit to hear"; the blood was beginning to show in her cheek; "and I

would not like my little boy" Her voice broke suddenly, but recovering quickly she went on in grave,

sweet tones: "I trust him to you, Ranald, for this time and afterward. He looks up to you. I want him to be a

good, brave man, and to keep his heart pure." Ranald could not speak, but he looked steadily into Mrs.

Murray's eyes as he took the hand she offered, and she knew he was pledging himself to her.

"You'll come for him tomorrow," she said, as she turned away. By this time Ranald had found his voice.

Once more Mrs. Murray found herself looking at Ranald as if seeing him for the first time. He had the solemn

voice and manner of a man making oath of allegiance, and she rode away with her heart at rest concerning

Those two days had been for Hughie long and weary, but at last the great day came for him, as all great days

will come for those who can wait. Ranald appeared at the manse before the breakfast was well begun, and

Hughie, with the unconscious egoism of childhood, was for rushing off without thought of preparation for

himself or of farewell for those left behind. Indeed, he was for leaving his porridge untasted, declaring he

"No breakfast, no sugar bush today, Hughie," she said; "we cannot send men out to the woods that cannot

Hughie at once fell upon his porridge with vigor, while Ranald, who was much too shy to eat at the minister's

After breakfast was over, Jessie was called in for the morning worship, without which no day was ever begun

in the manse. At worship in the minister's house every one present took part. It was Hughie's special joy to

lead the singing of the psalm. His voice rose high and clear, even above his mother's, for he loved to sing, and

Ranald's presence inspired him to do his best. Ranald had often heard the psalm sung in the church

and the tune was the old, familiar "French," but somehow it was all new to him that day. The fresh voices and

the crisp, prompt movement of the tune made Ranald feel as if he had never heard the psalm sung before. In

the reading he took his verse with the others, stumbling a little, not because the words were too big for him,

but because they seemed to run into one another. The chapter for the day contained Paul's injunction to

When the reading was done, Mrs. Murray told them a story of a young man who had shed his blood upon a

Scottish moor because he was too brave to be untrue to his lord, and then, in a few words, made them all see

that still some conflict was being waged, and that there was still opportunity for each to display loyal courage

In the prayer that followed, the first thing that surprised Ranald was the absence of the set forms and tones of

prayer, with which he was familiar. It was all so simple and real. The mother was telling the great Father in

heaven her cares and anxieties, and the day's needs for them all, sure that he would understand and answer.

Every one was rememberedthe absent head of the family and those present; the young man worshiping

with them, that he might be a true man and a good soldier of Jesus Christ; and at the close, the little lad going

away this morning, that he might be kept from all harm and from all evil thoughts and deeds. The simple

beauty of the words, the music in the voice, and the tender, trustful feeling that breathed through the prayer

awakened in Ranald's heart emotions and longings he had never known before, and he rose from his knees

feeling how wicked and how cruel a thing it would be to cause one of these little ones to stumble.

After the worship was over, Hughie seized his Scotch bonnet and rushed for the jumper, and in a few minutes

his mother had all the space not taken up by him and Ranald packed with blankets and baskets.

"Jessie thinks that even great shantymen like you and Don and Hughie will not object to something better

Then Hughie suddenly remembered that he was actually leaving home, and climbing out of the jumper, he

His mother stooped and put her arms about him. "Good by, my darling," she said, in a low voice; "I trust you

Then came to Hughie, for the first time, the thought that had been in the mother's heart all the morning, that

when night came he would lie down to sleep, for the first time in his life, without the nightly story and her

"Mother," whispered the little lad, holding her tight about the neck, "won't you come, too? I don't think I like

He could have said no more comforting word, and the mother, whose heart had been sore enough with her

first parting from her boy, was more than glad to find that the pain was not all on her side; so she kissed him

again, and said, in a cheery voice: "Now have a good time. Don't trouble Ranald too much, and bring me

"Oh, mother, I'll bring you heaps!" he cried, and with the vision of what he would bring home again shining

vividly before his eyes, he got through the parting without tears, and was soon speeding down the lane beside

The mother stood and watched the little figure holding tight to Ranald with one hand, and with the other

waving frantically his bonnet by the tails, till at last the bush hid him from her sight. Then she turned back

again to the house that seemed so empty, with her hand pressed hard against her side and her lip quivering as

"How foolish!" she said, impatiently to herself; "he will be home in two days." But in spite of herself she

went again to the door, and looked long at the spot where the bush swallowed up the road. Then she went

upstairs and shut her door, and when she came down again there was that in her face that told that her heart

had had its first touch of the sword that, sooner or later, must pierce all mothers' hearts.

Before Hughie came back from the sugar camp, the minister had returned from the presbytery, bringing with

him his wife's niece, Maimie St. Clair, who had come from her home in a Western city to meet him. Her

father, Eugene St. Clair, was president of Raymond and St. Clair Lumber Company. Nineteen years before

this time he had married Mrs. Murray's eldest sister, and established his home with every prospect of a

prosperous and happy life, but after three short, bright years of almost perfect joy, his young wife, his heart's

idol, after two days' illness, fluttered out from her beautiful home, leaving with her brokenhearted husband

her little boy and a baby girl two weeks old. Then Eugene St. Clair besought his sister to come out from

England and preside over his home and care for his children; and that he might forget his grief, he gave

himself, heart and mind, to his business. Wealth came to him, and under his sister's rule his home became a

Miss Frances St. Clair was a woman of the world, proud of her familytree, whose root disappeared in the

depths of past centuries, and devoted to the pursuit and cultivation of those graces and manners that are

supposed to distinguish people of birth and breeding from the common sort. Indeed, from common men and

things she shrank almost with horror. The entrance of "trade" into the social sphere of her life she would

regard as an impertinent intrusion. It was as much as she could bear to allow the approach of "commerce,"

which her brother represented. She supposed, of course, there must be people to carry on the trades and

industries of the countryvery worthy people, toobut these were people one could not be expected to

know. Miss St. Clair thanked heaven that she had had the advantages of an English education and

upbringing, and she lamented the stubborn democratic opinions of her brother, who insisted that Harry

should attend the public school. She was not surprised, therefore, though greatly grieved, that Harry chose his

friends in school with a fine disregard of "their people." It was with surprise amounting to pain that she found

herself one day introduced by her nephew to Billie Barclay, who turned out to be the son of Harry's favorite

confectioner. To his aunt's remonstrance it seemed to Harry a sufficient reply that Billy was a "brick" and a

"But he is my friend, and I don't care what his people are. Besides, I think his governor is a fine old boy, and

"But, Harry," answered his aunt, in despair, "you are positively dreadful. Why can't you make friends in your

"Evans!" snorted Harry, with contempt; "beastly snob, and the Langfords are regular Mollies!" Whereupon

Miss St. Clair gave up her nephew as impossible. But Billie did not repeat his visit to his friend Harry's home.

Miss Frances St. Clair had a way of looking through her pincenez that even a boy could understand and

With Maimie, Miss St. Clair achieved better results. She was a gentle girl, with an affectionate, yielding

disposition, tending towards indolence and selfindulgence. Her aunt's chief concern about her was that she

should be frocked and mannered as became her position. Her education was committed to a very select young

ladies' school, where only the daughters of the first families ever entered. What or how they were taught, her

aunt never inquired. She felt quite sure that the lady principal would resent, as indeed she ought, any such

inquiry. Hence Maimie came to have a smattering of the English poets, could talk in conversationbook

French, and could dash off most of the notes of a few waltzes and marches from the best composers, her

piece de resistance, however, being "La Priere d'une Vierge." She carried with her from school a portfolio of

crayons of apparently very ancient and very battered castles; and watercolors of landscapes, where the water

was quite as solid as the land. True, she was quite unable to keep her own small accounts, and when her

father chanced to ask her one day to do for him a simple addition, he was amazed to find that only after the

third attempt did she get it right; but, in the eyes of her aunt, these were quite unimportant deficiencies, and

for young ladies she was not sure but that the keeping of accounts and the adding of figures were almost

vulgar accomplishments. Her father thought otherwise, but he was a busy man, and besides, he shrank from

entering into a region strange to him, but where his sister moved with assured tread. He contented himself

with gratifying his daughter's fancies and indulging her in every way allowed him by her system of training

and education. The main marvel in the result was that the girl did not grow more selfish, superficial, and

ignorant than she did. Something in her blood helped her, but more, it was her aunt's touch upon her life. For

every week a letter came from the country manse, bringing with it some of the sweet simplicity of the country

She was nearing her fifteenth birthday, and though almost every letter brought an invitation to visit the manse

in the backwoods, it was only when the girl's pale cheek and languid air awakened her father's anxiety that

When Ranald and Hughie drove up to the manse on Saturday evening in the jumper the whole household

rushed forth to see them. They were worth seeing. Burned black with the sun and the March winds, they

would have easily passed for young Indians. Hughie's clothes were a melancholy and fluttering ruin; and

while Ranald's stout homespun smock and trousers had successfully defied the bush, his dark face and

unkempt hair, his rough dress and heavy shanty boots, made him appear, to Maimie's eyes, an uncouth, if not

"Oh, mother!" cried Hughie, throwing himself upon her, "I'm home again, and we've had a splendid time, and

we made heaps of sugar, and I've brought you a whole lot." He drew out of his pockets three or four cakes of

Hughie went up shyly to his cousin and offered a grimy hand. Maimie, looking at the ragged little figure,

could hardly hide her disgust as she took the dirty, sticky little hand very gingerly in her fingers. But Hughie

was determined to do his duty to the full, even though Ranald was present, and shaking his cousin's hand with

great heartiness, he held up his face to be kissed. He was much surprised, and not a little relieved, when

She found him scanning her with a straight, searching look, as if seeking to discover of what sort she was.

She felt he had noticed her shrinking from Hughie, and was annoyed to find herself blushing under his keen

gaze. But when Mrs. Murray presented Ranald to her niece, it was his turn to blush and feel awkward, as he

came forward with a triangular sort of movement and offered his hand, saying, with an access of his Highland

accent, "It is a fine day, ma'am." It required all Maimie's good manners to keep back the laugh that fluttered

Slight as it was, Ranald noticed the smile, and turning from her abruptly to Mrs. Murray, said: "We were

thinking that Friday would be a good day for the sugaringoff, if that will do you."

"Quite well, Ranald," said the minister's wife; "and it is very good of you to have us."

She, too, had noted Maimie's smile, and seeing the dark flush on Ranald's cheek, she knew well what it

"Come and sit down a little, Ranald," she said, kindly; "I have got some books here for you and Don to read."

But Ranald would not sit, nor would he wait a moment. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, "but I will need to be

"Wait, Ranald, a moment," cried Mrs. Murray. She ran into the next room, and in a few moments returned

with two or three books and some magazines. "These," she said, handing him the books, "are some of Walter

Scott's. They will be good for weekdays; and these," giving him the magazines, "you can read after church

The boy's eyes lighted up as he thanked Mrs. Murray, and he shook hands with her very warmly. Then, with a

bow to the company, and without looking at Maimie again, he left the room, with Hughie following at his

heels. In a short time Hughie came back full of enthusiastic praise of his hero.

"Oh, mother!" he cried, "he is awful smart. He can just do anything. He can make a splendid bed of balsam

"A bed of balsam brush and porridge! What a wonderful boy he must be, Hughie," said Maimie, teasing him.

"He's not a bit queer," said Hughie, stoutly. "He is the best, best, best boy in all the world."

"Indeed! how extraordinary!" said Maimie; "you wouldn't think so to look at him."

"Indeed, he is fery brown whatever," mocked Maimie, mimicking Ranald's Highland tongue, a trick at which

"You're just a mean, mean, redheaded snip!" cried Hughie, in a rage, "and I don't like you one bit."

"And when will you be going to the sugaringoff, Mistress Murray?" went on Maimie, mimicking Ranald so

It was his mother's smile that perfected Hughie's fury. Without a word of threat or warning, he seized a dipper

of water and threw it over Maimie, soaking her pretty ribbons and collar, and was promptly sent upstairs to

"Poor Hughie!" said his mother, after he had disappeared; "Ranald is his hero, and he cannot bear any

"He doesn't look much of a hero, auntie," said Maimie, drying her face and curls.

"Very few heroes do," said her aunt, quietly. "Ranald has noble qualities, but he has had very few

Then Mrs. Murray told her niece how Ranald had put himself between her and the pursuing wolves. Maimie's

"Indeed, you may ask why," said the minister, gravely. He had heard the story from his wife the night before.

"But it would need a man to be on guard day and night to keep your aunt from 'those places.'"

"Yes, and your uncle, too," said Mrs. Murray, shaking her head at her husband. "You see, Maimie, we live in

'those places'; and after all, they are as safe as any. We are in good keeping."

"Oh, there was no danger. The wolves will not come near a fire, and the boys have their dogs and guns," said

"Trusted?" said the minister; "indeed, I would not trust him too far. He is just wild enough, like his father

"Oh, papa, you don't know Ranald," said his wife, warmly; "nor his father either, for that matter. I never did

"And whose fault is that?" interrupted the minister. "Why should they keep aloof from the means of grace?

They are a godless lot, that's what they are." The minister's indignation was rising.

"Chance!" exclaimed the minister; "what more chance do they want? Have they not all that other people

have? Macdonald Dubh is rarely seen at the services on the Lord's day, and as for Ranald, he comes and goes

"Let us hope," said his wife, gently, "they will improve. I believe Ranald would come to Bible class were he

"Shy!" laughed the minister, scornfully; "he is not too shy to stand up on the table before a hundred men after

a logging and dance the Highland fling, and beautifully he does it, too," he added.

"I don't like shy people," said Maimie; "they are so awkward and dreadful to do with."

"Well," said her aunt, quietly, "I rather like people who are not too sure of themselves, and I think all the

"Oh, Ranald's modesty won't disable him," said the minister. "For my part, I think he is a daring young rascal;

and indeed, if there is any mischief going in the countryside you may be sure Ranald is not far away."

"Oh, papa, I don't think Ranald is a BAD boy," said his wife, almost pleadingly.

"Bad? I'm sure I don't know what you call it. Who let off the dam last year so that the sawmill could not run

for a week? Who abused poor Duncie MacBain so that he was carried home groaning?"

"Duncie MacBain!" exclaimed his wife, contemptuously; "great, big, soft lump, that he is. Why, he's a man,

"Who broke the Little Church windows till there wasn't a pane left?" pursued the minister, unheeding his

"It wasn't Ranald that broke the church windows, papa," piped Hughie from above.

"Hughie, go to your room and stay there, as I told you," said his mother, fearing an investigation into the

windowbreaking episode, of which Hughie had made full confession to her as his own particular

"I think," continued Mr. Murray, as if closing the discussion, "you'll find that your Ranald is not the modest,

shy, gentle young man you think him to be, but a particularly bold young rascal."

"Poor Ranald," sighed his wife; "he has no mother, and his father has just let him grow up wild."

But he could have adopted no better means of awakening Maimie's interest in Ranald than by the recital of

his various escapades. Women love good men, but are interested in men whose goodness is more or less

impaired. So Maimie was determined that she would know more of Ranald, and hence took every opportunity

of encouraging Hughie to sing the praises of his hero and recount his many adventures. She was glad, too,

that her aunt had fixed the sugaringoff for a time when she could be present. But neither at church on

Sunday nor during the week that followed did she catch sight of his face, and though Hughie came in with

excited reports now and then of having seen or heard of Ranald, Maimie had to content herself with these;

and, indeed, were it not that the invitation had already been given, and the day fixed for her visit to the camp,

the chances are that Maimie's acquaintance with Ranald would have ended where it began, in which case both

The sugar time is, in many ways, the best of all the year. It is the time of crisp mornings, when "the crust

bears," and the boys go crunching over all the fields and through the woods; the time, too, of sunny noons

and chilly nights. Winter is still near, but he has lost most of his grip, and all his terror. For the earth has

heard the call of spring from afar, and knows that soon she will be seen, dancing her shy dances, in the sunny

spaces of the leafless woods. Then, by and by, from all the open fields the snow is driven back into the fence

corners, and lies there in soiled and sullen heaps. In the woods it still lies deep; but there is everywhere the

tinkle of running water, and it is not long till the brown leaf carpet begins to show in patches through the

white. Then, overhead, the buds begin to swell and thrill with the new life, and when it is broad noon, all

through the woods a thousand voices pass the glad word that winter's day is gone and that all living things are

free. But when night draws up over the treetops, and the shadows steal down the forest aisles, the jubilant

voices die down and a chill fear creeps over all the gleeful, swelling buds that they have been too sure and too

happy; and all the more if, from the northeast, there sweeps down, as often happens, a stinging storm of sleet

and snow, winter's last savage slap. But what matters that? The very next day, when the bright, warm rays

trickle down through the interlacing branches, bathing the buds and twigs and limbs and trunks and flooding

all the woods, the world grows surer of its new joy. And so, in alternating hope and fear, the days and nights

go by, till an evening falls when the air is languid and a soft rain comes up from the south, falling all night

long over the buds and trees like warm, loving fingers. Then the buds break for very joy, and timid green

things push up through the leafmold; and from the swamps the little frogs begin to pipe, at first in solo, but

soon in exultant chorus, till the whole moist night is vocal, and then every one knows that the sugar time is

over, and troughs and spiles are gathered up, and with sapbarrels and kettles, are stored in the back shed for

But no rain came before the night fixed for the sugaringoff. It was a perfect sugar day, warm, bright, and

still, following a night of sharp frost. The long sunny afternoon was deepening into twilight when the

Camerons drove up to the sugarcamp in their big sleigh, bringing with them the manse party. Ranald and

Don, with Aunt Kirsty, were there to receive them. It was one of those rare evenings of the early Canadian

spring. The bare woods were filled with the tangled rays of light from the setting sun. Here and there a

hillside facing the east lay in shadow that grew black where the balsams and cedars stood in clumps. But

everywhere else the light fell sweet and silent about the bare trunks, filling the long avenues under the

In front of the shanty the kettles hung over the fire on a long pole which stood in an upright crutch at either

end. Under the big kettle the fire was roaring high, for the fresh sap needed much boiling before the syrup

and taffy could come. But under the little kettle the fire burned low, for that must not be hurried.

Over the fire and the kettles Ranald presided, black, grimy, and silent, and to Don fell the duty of doing the

honors of the camp; and right worthily did he do his part. He greeted his mother with reverence, cuffed his

young brother, kissed his little sister Jennie, tossing her high, and welcomed with warm heartiness Mrs.

Murray and her niece. The Airds had not yet come, but all the rest were there. The Finlaysons and the

McKerachers, Dan Campbell's boys, and their sister Betsy, whom every one called "Betsy Dan," redheaded,

freckled, and irrepressible; the McGregors, and a dozen or more of the wildest youngsters that could be found

in all the Indian Lands. Depositing their baskets in the shanty, for they had no thought of fasting, they

"Attention!" cried Don, who had a "gift of the gab," as his mother said. "Ladies and gentlemen, the program

for this evening is as follows: games, tea, and taffy, in the order mentioned. In the first, all MUST take part;

After the laughter and the chorus of "Ohs" had subsided, Don proceeded: "The captains for the evening are,

Elizabeth Campbell, better known as 'Betsy Dan,' and John Finlayson, familiar to us all as 'Johnnie the

Widow,' two young people of excellent character, and I believe, slightly known to each other."

Again a shout went up from the company, but Betsy Dan, who cared not at all for Don's banter, contented

herself with pushing out her lower lip at him with scorn, in that indescribable manner natural to girls, but to

Then the choosing began. Betsy Dan, claiming first choice by virtue of her sex, immediately called out,

But Ranald shook his head. "I cannot leave the fire," he said, blushing; "take Don there."

But Betsy demurred. "I don't want Don," she cried. "Come on, Ranald; the fire will do quite well." Betsy, as

indeed did most of the schoolgirls, adored Ranald in her secret heart, though she scorned to show it.

But Ranald still refused, till Don said, "It is too bad, Betsy, but you'll have to take me."

Maimie hesitated and looked at her aunt, who said, "Yes, go, my dear, if you would like."

"Marget Aird!" cried Betsy, spying Marget and her brothers coming down the road. "Come along, Marget;

you are on my sideon Don's side, I mean." At which poor Marget, a tall, fair girl, with sweet face and shy

manner, blushed furiously, but, after greeting the minister's wife and the rest of the older people, she took her

The choosing went on till every one present was taken, not even Aunt Kirsty being allowed to remain neutral

in the coming games. For an hour the sports went on. Racing, jumping, bear, London bridge, crack the whip,

Meantime Ranald superintended the sapboiling, keeping on the opposite side of the fire from the ladies, and

answering in monosyllables any questions addressed to him. But when it was time to make the tea, Mrs.

Cameron and Kirsty insisted on taking charge of this, and Mrs. Murray, coming round to Ranald, said: "Now,

Ranald, I came to learn all about sugarmaking, and while the others are making tea, I want you to teach me

Ranald gladly agreed to show her all he knew. He had been feeling awkward and miserable in the noisy

crowd, but especially in the presence of Maimie. He had not forgotten the smile of amusement with which

she had greeted him at the manse, and his wounded pride longed for an opportunity to pour upon her the vials

of his contempt. But somehow, in her presence, contempt would not arise within him, and he was driven into

wretched silence and self abasement. It was, therefore, with peculiar gratitude that he turned to Mrs. Murray

"I thank you for the books, Mrs. Murray," he began, in a low, hurried voice. "They are just wonderful. That

Rob Roy and Ivanhoe, oh! they are the grand books." His face was fairly blazing with enthusiasm. "I never

"I am very glad you like them, Ranald," said Mrs. Murray, in tones of warm sympathy, "and I shall give you

"I cannot thank you enough. I have not the words," said the boy, looking as if he might fall down at her feet.

"It is a great pleasure to me, Ranald, that you like them," she said, earnestly. "I want you to love good books

"Then some day you will be a good and great man yourself," she added, "and you will do some noble work."

The boy stood looking far away into the woods, his black eyes filled with a mysterious fire. Suddenly he

threw back his head and said, as if he had forgotten Mrs. Murray's presence, "Yes, some day I will be a great

He turned and looked at her a moment as if in a dream. Then, recalling himself, he answered, "I suppose that

"Yes, it is the best, Ranald," she replied. "No man is great who is not good. But come now and give me my

Ranald stepped out into the bush, and from a tree near by he lifted a trough of sap and emptied it into the big

He seized a bucket, went to another tree, emptied the sap from the trough into the bucket, and thence into the

"Then from the big kettle into the little one," he said, catching up a big dipper tied to a long pole, and

"Then you must be very careful indeed, or you will lose all your day's work, and your sugar besides, for it is

"Oh, you must just keep tasting every few minutes till you think you have the syrup, and then for the sugar

"Then," he said, "you must quickly knock the fire from under it, and pour it into the pans, stirring it till it gets

"Now I have learned something I never knew before," said the minister's wife, delightedly, "and I am very

"You do not know how much I am going to ask you to do," she said, lightly. "Wait and see."

At that moment a series of shrieks rose high above the shouting and laughter of the games, and Maimie came

"Oh, auntie!" she panted, he's going togoing to" she paused, with cheeks burning.

"Hoot, lassie," said Mrs. Cameron; "it will not much hurt you, anyway. They that kiss in the light will not

"She played, and lost her forfeit," said Don, unwilling to be jeered at by the others for faintheartedness. "She

"I'm afraid, Don, she does not understand our ways," said Mrs. Murray, apologetically.

"Be off, Don," said his mother. "Kiss Marget there, if you canit will not hurt herand leave the young

"It's just horrid of them, auntie," said Maimie, indignantly, as the others went back to their games.

"Indeed," said Mrs. Cameron, warmly, "if you will never do worse than kiss a laddie in a game, it's little harm

"Well, my dear, if you think so, it is. But not for these girls, who play the game with never a thought of

impropriety and with no shock to their modesty. Much depends on how you think about these things."

But Maimie was not satisfied. She was indignant at Don for offering to kiss her, but as she stood and watched

the games going on under the treesthe tag, the chase, the catch, and the kiss she somehow began to feel

as if it were not so terrible after all, and to think that perhaps these girls might play the game and still be nice

enough. But she had no thought of going back to them, and so she turned her attention to the preparations for

tea, now almost complete. Her aunt and Ranald were toasting slices of bread at the big blazing fire, on forks

"Let me try, auntie," she said, pushing up to the fire between her aunt and Ranald. "I am sure I can do that."

"Be careful of that fire," said Ranald, sharply, pulling back her skirt, that had blown dangerously near the

Mamie looked at him, surprise, indignation, and fear struggling for the mastery. Was this the awkward boy

"It's very dangerous," he explained to Mrs. Murray, "the wind blows out the flames."

As he spoke he handed Maimie his toasting stick and retired to the other side of the fire, and began to attend

"My dear," replied her aunt, "what Ranald says is quite true. You cannot be too careful in moving about the

"Well, he needn't be so cross about it," said Maimie. She had never been ordered about before in her life, and

she did not enjoy the experience, and all the more at the hands of an uncouth country boy. She watched

Ranald attending to the fire and the kettles, however, with a new respect. He certainly had no fear of the fire,

but moved about it and handled it with the utmost sangfroid. He had a certain grace, too, in his movements

that caught her eye, and she wished he would come nearer so that she could speak to him. She had

considerable confidence in her powers of attraction. As if to answer her wish, Ranald came straight to where

"I think it will be time for tea now," he said, with a sudden return of his awkward manner, that made Maimie

wonder why she had ever been afraid of him. "I will tell Don," he added, striding off toward the group of

Soon Don's shout was heard: "Tea, ladies and gentlemen; take your seats at the tables." And speedily there

was a rush and scramble, and in a few moments the great heaps of green balsam boughs arranged around the

fire were full of boys and girls pulling, pinching, and tumbling over one another in wild glee.

The toast stood in brown heaps on birchbark plates beside the fire, and baskets were carried out of the

shanty bulging with cakes; the tea was bubbling in the big tin teapail, and everything was ready for the

feast. But Ranald had caught Mrs. Murray's eye, and at a sign from her, stood waiting with the teapail in his

But Ranald stood still, looking silently at the minister's wife. Then, as all eyes turned toward her, she said, in

a gentle, sweet voice, "I think we ought to give thanks to our Father in heaven for all this beauty about us and

At once Ranald took off his hat, and as the boys followed his example, Mrs. Murray bowed her head and in a

few, simple words lifted up the hearts of all with her own in thanksgiving for the beauty of the woods and sky

It was not the first time that Ranald had heard her voice in prayer, but somehow it sounded different in the

open air under the trees and in the midst of all the jollity of the sugaringoff. With all other people that

Ranald knew religion seemed to be something apart from common days, common people, and common

things, and seemed, besides, a solemn and terrible experience; but with the minister's wife, religion was a part

of her everyday living, and seemed to be as easily associated with her pleasure as with anything else about

her. It was so easy, so simple, so natural, that Ranald could not help wondering if, after all, it was the right

kind. It was so unlike the religion of the elders and all the good people in the congregation. It was a great

After tea was over the great business of the evening came on. Ranald announced that the taffy was ready, and

Don, as master of ceremonies, immediately cried out: "The gentlemen will provide the ladies with plates."

"Plates," repeated Don, stepping back to a great snowbank, near a balsam clump, and returning with a piece

of "crust." At once there was a scurry to the snowbank, and soon every one had a snow plate ready. Then

Ranald and Don slid the little kettle along the pole off the fire, and with tin dippers began to pour the hot

syrup upon the snow plates, where it immediately hardened into taffy. Then the pulling began. What fun there

was, what larks, what shrieks, what romping and tumbling, till all were heartily tired, both of the taffy and the

Then followed the sugarmolding. The little kettle was set back on the fire and kept carefully stirred, while

tin dishes of all sorts, shapes, and sizesmilkpans, pattiepans, mugs, and cupswell greased with pork

The last act of all was the making of "hens' nests." A dozen or so of hens' eggs, blown empty, and three goose

eggs for the grownups, were set in snow nests, and carefully filled from the little kettle. In a few minutes the

"Look out for that fire," cried Don, dropping the egg into its snowbed. He was too late. A little tongue of

flame leaped out from under the kettle, nipped hold of her frock, and in a moment she was in a blaze. With a

wild scream she sprang back and turned to fly, but before she had gone more than a single step Ranald,

dashing the crowd right and left, had seized and flung her headlong into the snow, beating out the flames with

his bare hands. In a moment all danger was over, and Ranald lifted her up. Still screaming, she clung to him,

"Hush, Maimie; hush, dear. You are quite safe now. Let me see your face. There now, be quiet, child. The

"Listen to me," her aunt said, in an even, firm voice. "Do not be foolish. Let me look at you."

The quiet, firm voice soothed her, and Maimie's screams ceased. Her aunt examined her face, neck, and arms

for any signs of fire, but could find none. She was hardly touched, so swift had been her rescue. Then Mrs.

Murray, suddenly putting her arms round about her niece, and holding her tight, cried: "Thank God, my

Her voice broke, but in a moment, recovering herself, she went on, "And Ranald, too! noble fellow!"

Ranald was standing at the back of the crowd, looking pale, disturbed, and awkward. Mrs. Murray, knowing

how hateful to him would be any demonstrations of feeling, went to him, and quietly held out her hand,

For a moment or two she looked steadily into his face with tears streaming down her cheeks. Then putting her

Then Maimie, who had been standing in a kind of stupor all this while, seemed suddenly to awake, and

running swiftly toward Ranald, she put out both hands, crying: "Oh, Ranald, I can never thank you enough!"

He took her hands in an agony of embarrassment, not knowing what to do or say. Then Maimie suddenly

dropped his hands, and throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him, and ran back to her aunt's side.

"I thought you didn't play forfeits, Maimie," said Don, in a grieved voice. And every one was glad to laugh.

Then the minister's wife, looking round upon them all, said: "Dear children, God has been very good to us,

And standing there by the fire, they bowed their heads in a new thanksgiving to Him whose keeping never

fails by day or night. And then, with hearts and voices subdued, and with quiet good nights, they went their

But as the Cameron sleigh drove off with its load, Maimie looked back, and seeing Ranald standing by the

But her aunt made no reply, seeing a new danger for them both, greater than that they had escaped.

The Sabbath that followed the sugaringoff was to Maimie the most remarkable Sabbath of her life up to that

day. It was totally unlike the Sabbath of her home, which, after the formal "church parade," as Harry called it,

in the morning, her father spent in lounging with his magazine and pipe, her aunt in sleeping or in social

gossip with such friends as might drop in, and Harry and Maimie as best they could.

The Sabbath in the minister's house, as in the homes of his people, was a day so set apart from other days that

it had to be approached. The Saturday afternoon and evening caught something of its atmosphere. No

frivolity, indeed no light amusement, was proper on the evening that put a period to the worldly occupations

and engagements of the week. That evening was one of preparation. The house, and especially the kitchen,

was thoroughly "redd up." Wood, water, and kindlings were brought in, clothes were brushed, boots greased

or polished, dinner prepared, and in every way possible the whole house, its dwellers, and its belongings,

made ready for the morrow. So, when the Sabbath morning dawned, people awoke with a feeling that old

things had passed away and that the whole world was new. The sun shone with a radiance not known on other

days. He was shining upon holy things, and lighting men and women to holy duties. Through all the farms the

fields lay bathed in his genial glow, at rest, and the very trees stood in silent worship of the bending heavens.

Up from stable and from kitchen came no sounds of work. The horses knew that no wheel would turn that

day in labor, and the dogs lay sleeping in sunny nooks, knowing as well as any that there was to be no

hunting or roaming for them that day, unless they chose to go on a free hunt; which none but lightheaded

Over all things rest brooded, and out of the rest grew holy thoughts and hopes. It was a day of beginnings.

For the past, broken and stained, there was a new offer of oblivion and healing, and the heart was summoned

to look forward to new life and to hope for better things, and to drink in all those soothing, healing influences

that memory and faith combine to give; so that when the day was done, weary and discouraged men and

women began to feel that, perhaps after all they might be able to endure and even to hope for victory.

The minister rose earlier on Sabbath than on other days, the responsibility of his office pressing hard upon

him. Breakfast was more silent than usual, ordinary subjects of conversation being discouraged. The minister

was preoccupied and impatient of any interruption of his thoughts. But his wife came to the table with a

sweeter serenity than usual, and a calm upon her face that told of hidden strength. Even Maimie could notice

the difference, but she could only wonder. The secret of it was hidden from her. Her aunt was like no other

woman that she knew, and there were many things about her too deep for Maimie's understanding.

After worship, which was brief but solemn and intense, Lambert hurried to bring round to the front the big

black horse, hitched up in the carryall, and they all made speed to pack themselves in, Maimie and her aunt in

front, and Hughie on the floor behind with his legs under the seat; for when once the minister was himself

quite ready, and had got his great meerschaum pipe going, it was unsafe for any one to delay him a single

The drive to the church was an experience hardly in keeping with the spirit of the day. It was more exciting

than restful. Black was a horse with a single aim, which was to devour the space that stretched out before

him, with a fine disregard of consequence. The first part of the road up to the church hill and down again to

the swamp was to Black, as to the others, an unmixed joy, for he was fresh from his oats and eager to go, and

But when the swamp was reached, and the buggy began to leap from log to log of the corduroy, Black began

to chafe in impatience of the rein which commanded caution. Indeed, the passage of the swamp was always

more or less of an adventure, the result of which no one could foretell, and it took all Mrs. Murray's

steadiness of nerve to repress an exclamation of terror at critical moments. The corduroy was Black's

abomination. He longed to dash through and be done with it; but, however much the minister sympathized

with Black's desire, prudence forbade that his method should be adopted. So from log to log, and from hole to

hole, Black plunged and stepped with all the care he could be persuaded to exercise, every lurch of the

carryall bringing a scream from Maimie in front and a delighted chuckle from Hughie behind. His delight in

But once the swamp was crossed, and Black found himself on the firm road that wound over the sandhills

and through the open pine woods, he tossed his great mane back from his eyes, and getting his head set off at

a pace that foreboded disaster to anything trying to keep before him, and in a short time drew up at the church

"My!" said Maimie, when she had recovered her breath sufficiently to speak, "is that the church?" She

pointed to a huge wooden building about whose door a group of men were standing.

"Huhhuh, that's it," said Hughie; "but we will soon be done with the ugly old thing."

The most enthusiastic member of the congregation could scarcely call the old church beautiful, and to

Maimie's eyes it was positively hideous. No steeple or tower gave any hint of its sacred character. Its

weatherbeaten clapboard exterior, spotted with black knots, as if stricken with some disfiguring disease, had

nothing but its row of uncurtained windows to distinguish it from an ordinary barn.

They entered by the door at the end of the church, and proceeded down the long aisle that ran the full length

of the building, till they came to a cross aisle that led them to the minister's pew at the left side of the pulpit,

and commanding a view of the whole congregation. The main body of the church was seated with long box

pews with hinged doors. But the gallery that ran round three sides was fitted with simple benches.

Immediately in front of the pulpit was a square pew which was set apart for the use of the elders, and close up

to the pulpit, and indeed as part of this structure, was a precentor's desk. The pulpit was, to Maimie's eyes, a

wonder. It was an octagonal box placed high on one side of the church on a level with the gallery, and

reached by a spiral staircase. Above it hung the highly ornate and altogether extraordinary sounding board

and canopy. There was no sign of paint anywhere, but the yellow pine, of which seats, gallery, and pulpit

were all made, had deepened with age into a rich brown, not unpleasant to the eye.

The church was full, for the Indian Lands people believed in going to church, and there was not a house for

many miles around but was represented in the church that day. There they sat, row upon row of men, brawny

and brown with wind and sun, a notable company, worthy of their ancestry and worthy of their heritage.

Beside them sat their wives, brown, too, and weatherbeaten, but strong, deep bosomed, and with faces of

calm content, worthy to be mothers of their husbands' sons. The girls and younger children sat with their

parents, modest, shy, and reverent, but the young men, for the most part, filled the back seats under the

gallery. And a hardy lot they were, as brown and brawny as their fathers, but tingling with life to their

fingertips, ready for anything, and impossible of control except by one whom they feared as well as

reverenced. And such a man was Alexander Murray, for they knew well that, lithe and brawny as they were,

there was not a man of them but he could fling out of the door and over the fence if he so wished; and they

knew, too, that he would be prompt to do it if occasion arose. Hence they waited for the word of God with all

In the square pew in front of the pulpit sat the elders, hoary, massive, and venerable. The Indian Lands

Session were worth seeing. Great men they were, every one of them, excepting, perhaps, Kenneth Campbell,

"Kenny Crubach," as he was called, from his halting step. Kenny was neither hoary nor massive nor

venerable. He was a short, grizzled man with snapping black eyes and a tongue for clever, biting speech; and

while he bore a stainless character, no one thought of him as an eminently godly man. In public prayer he

never attained any great length, nor did he employ that tone of unction deemed suitable in this sacred

exercise. He seldom "spoke to the question," but when he did people leaned forward to listen, and more

especially the rows of the careless and ungodly under the gallery. Kenny had not the look of an elder, and

indeed, many wondered how he had ever come to be chosen for the office. But the others all had the look of

elders, and carried with them the full respect and affection of the congregation. Even the young men under

the gallery regarded them with reverence for their godly character, but for other things as well; for these old

men had been famous in their day, and tales were still told about the firesides of the people of their prowess

There was, for instance, Finlay McEwen, or McKeowen, as they all pronounced it in that country, who, for a

wager, had carried a fourhundredpound barrel upon each hip across the long bridge over the Scotch River.

And next him sat Donald Ross, whose very face, with its halo of white hair, bore benediction with it

wherever he went. What a man he must have been in his day! Six feet four inches he stood in his stocking

soles, and with "a back like a barn door," as his son Danny, or "Curly," now in the shanty with Macdonald

Bhain, used to say, in affectionate pride. Then there was Farquhar McNaughton, big, kindly, and

goodnatured, a mighty man with the ax in his time. "Kirsty's Farquhar" they called him, for obvious reasons.

And a good thing for Farquhar it was that he had had Kirsty at his side during these years to make his

bargains for him and to keep him and all others to them, else he would never have become the substantial

Next to Farquhar was Peter McRae, the chief of a large clan of respectable, and none too respectable,

families, whom all alike held in fear, for Peter ruled with a rod of iron, and his word ran as law throughout

the clan. Then there was Ian More Macgregor, or "Big John Macgregor," as the younger generation called

him, almost as big as Donald Ross and quite as kindly, but with a darker, sadder face. Something from his

wilder youth had cast its shadow over his life. No one but his minister and two others knew that story, but the

old man knew it himself, and that was enough. One of those who shared his secret was his neighbor and

crony, Donald Ross, and it was worth a journey of some length to see these two great old men, one with the

sad and the other with the sunny face, stride off together, staff in hand, at the close of the Gaelic service, to

Donald's home, where the afternoon would be spent in discourse fitting the Lord's day and in prayer.

The only other elder was Roderick McCuiag, who sat, not in the elders' pew, but in the precentor's box, for he

was the Leader of Psalmody. "Straight Rory," as he was called by the irreverent, was tall, spare, and straight

as a ramrod. He was devoted to his office, jealous of its dignity, and strenuous in his opposition to all

innovations in connection with the Service of Praise. He was especially opposed to the introduction of those

"newfangled ranting" tunes which were being taught the young people by John "Alec" Fraser in the weekly

singingschool in the Nineteenth, and which were sung at Mrs. Murray's Sabbath evening Bible class in the

Little Church. Straight Rory had been educated for a teacher in Scotland, and was something of a scholar. He

loved school examinations, where he was the terror of pupils and teachers alike. His acute mind reveled in the

metaphysics of theology, which made him the dread of all candidates who appeared before the session

desiring "to come forward." It was to many an impressive sight to see Straight Rory rise in the precentor's

box, feel round, with much facial contortion, for the pitchhe despised a tuningfork and then,

straightening himself up till he bent over backwards, raise the chant that introduced the tune to the

congregation. But to the young men under the gallery he was more humorous than impressive, and it is to be

feared that they waited for the precentor's weekly performance with a delighted expectation that never

flagged and that was never disappointed. It was only the flash of the minister's blue eye that held their faces

rigid in preternatural solemnity, and forced them to content themselves with winks and nudges for the

As Maimie's eye went wandering shyly over the rows of brown faces that turned in solemn and steadfast

regard to the minister's pew, Hughie nudged her and whispered: "There's Don. See, in the back seat by the

He pointed to Peter McRae, grandson of "Peter the Elder." There was no mistaking that landmark.

"Look," cried Hughie, eagerly, pointing with terrible directness straight at Don, to Maimie's confusion.

"There's Ranald, mother," said the diplomatic Hughie, knowing well that his mother would rejoice to hear

Again Hughie's terrible finger pointed straight into the face of the gazing congregation.

Maimie knew a hundred eyes were looking straight at the minister's pew, but for the life of her she could not

prevent her eye following the pointing finger, till it found the steady gaze of Ranald fastened upon her. It was

only for a moment, but in that moment she felt her heart jump and her face grow hot, and it did not help her

that she knew that the people were all wondering at her furious blushes. Of course the story of the

sugaringoff had gone the length of the land and had formed the subject of conversation at the church door

that morning, where Ranald had to bear a good deal of chaff about the young lady, and her dislike of forfeits,

till he was ready to fight if a chance should but offer. With unspeakable rage and confusion, he noticed

Hughie's pointing finger. He caught, too, Maimie's quick look, with the vivid blush that followed.

Unfortunately, others besides himself had noticed this, and Don and Peter Ruagh, in the seat behind him,

At this point the minister rose in the pulpit, and all waited with earnest and reverent mien for the announcing

The Rev. Alexander Murray was a man to be regarded in any company and under any circumstances, but

when he stood up in his pulpit and faced his congregation he was truly superb. He was above the average

height, of faultless form and bearing, athletic, active, and with a "spring in every muscle." He had coalblack

hair and beard, and a flashing blue eye that held his people in utter subjection and put the fear of death upon

evildoers under the gallery. In every movement, tone, and glance there breathed imperial command.

"Let us worship God by singing to His praise in the one hundred and twentyfirst psalm:

His voice rang out over the congregation like a silver bell, and Maimie thought she had never seen a man of

After the reading of the psalm the minister sat down, and Straight Rory rose in his box, and after his manner,

began feeling about for the first note of the chant that would introduce the noble old tune "St. Paul's." A few

moments he spent twisting his face and shoulders in a manner that threatened to ruin the solemnity of the

worshipers under the gallery, till finally he seemed to hit upon the pitch desired, and throwing back his head

and closing one eye, he proceeded on his way. Each line he chanted alone, after the ancient Scottish custom,

after which the congregation joined with him in the tune. The custom survived from the time when psalm

books were in the hands of but few and the "lining" of the psalm was therefore necessary.

There was no haste to be done with the psalm. Why should there be? They had only one Sabbath in the week,

and the whole day was before them. The people surrendered themselves to the lead of Straight Rory with

unmistakable delight in that part of "the exercises" of the day in which they were permitted to audibly join.

But of all the congregation, none enjoyed the singing more than the dear old women who sat in the front seats

near the pulpit, their quiet old faces looking so sweet and pure under their snowwhite "mutches." There they

sat and sang and quavered, swaying their bodies with the tune in an ecstasy of restful joy.

Maimie had often heard St. Paul's before, but never as it was chanted by Straight Rory and sung by the Indian

Lands congregation that day. The extraordinary slides and slurs almost obliterated the notes of the original

tune, and the "little kick," as Maimie called it, at the end of the second line, gave her a little start.

"Isn't it beautiful?" her aunt answered, with an uncertain smile. She was remembering how these winding,

sliding, slurring old tunes had affected her when first she heard them in her husband's church years ago. The

stately movement, the weird quavers, and the pathetic cadences had in some mysterious way reached the deep

places in her heart, and before she knew, she had found the tears coursing down her cheeks and her breath

catching in sobs. Indeed, as she listened today, remembering these old impressions, the tears began to flow,

till Hughie, not understanding, crept over to his mother, and to comfort her, slipped his hand into hers,

looking fiercely at Maimie as if she were to blame. Maimie, too, noticed the tears and sat wondering, and as

the congregation swung on through the verses of the grand old psalm there crept into her heart a new and

"Listen to the words, Maimie dear," whispered her aunt. And as Maimie listened, the noble words, borne on

the mighty swing of St. Paul's, lifted up by six hundred voicesfor men, women, and children were singing

with all their heartsawakened echoes from great deeps within her as yet unsounded. The days for such

singing are, alas! long gone. The noble rhythm, the stately movement, the continuous curving stream of

melody, that once marked the praise service of the old Scottish church, have given place to the light, staccato

tinkle of the revival chorus, or the shorn and mutilated skeleton of the ancient psalm tune.

But while the psalm had been moving on in its solemn and stately way, Ranald had been enduring agony at

the hands of Peter Ruagh sitting just behind him. Peter, whose huge, clumsy body was a fitting tabernacle for

the soul within, labored under the impression that he was a humorist, and indulged a habit of ponderous

joking, trying enough to most people, but to one of Ranald's temperament exasperating to a high degree. His

theme was Ranald's rescue of Maimie, and the pauses of the singing he filled in with humorous comments

that, outside, would have produced only weariness, but in the church, owing to the strange perversity of

human nature, sent a snicker along the seat. Unfortunately for him, Ranald's face was so turned that he could

not see it, and so he had no hint of the wrath that was steadily boiling up to the point of overflow.

They were nearing the close of the last verse of the psalm, when Hughie, whose eyes never wandered long

from Ranald's direction, uttered a sharp "Oh, my!" There was a shuffling confusion under the gallery, and

By this time the minister was standing up for prayer. His eye, too, caught the movement in the back seat.

"Young men," he said, sternly, "remember you are in God's house. Let me not have to mention your names

As the congregation rose for prayer, Mrs. Murray noticed Peter Ruagh appear from beneath the bookboard

and quietly slip out by the back door with his hand to his face and the blood streaming between his fingers;

and though Ranald was standing up straight and stiff in his place, Mrs. Murray could read from his rigid look

the explanation of Peter's bloody face. She gave her mind to the prayer with a sore heart, for she had learned

enough of those wild, hotheaded youths to know that before Peter Ruagh's face would be healed more blood

The prayer proceeded in its leisurely way, indulging here and there in quiet reverie, or in exultant jubilation

over the "attributes," embracing in its worldwide sweep "the interests of the kingdom" far and near, and of

that part of humanity included therein present and to come, and buttressing its petitions with theological

argument, systematic and unassailable. Before the close, however, the minister came to deal with the needs of

his own people. Old and young, absent and present, the sick, the weary, the sinburdened all were

remembered with a warmth of sympathy, with a directness of petition, and with an earnestness of appeal that

thrilled and subdued the hearts of all, and made even the boys, who had borne with difficulty the last

The reading of Scripture followed the prayer. In this the minister excelled. His fine voice and his dramatic

instinct combined to make this an impressive and beautiful portion of the service. But today much of the

beauty and impressiveness of the reading was lost by the frequent interruptions caused by the entrance of late

comers, of whom, owing to the bad roads, there were a larger number than usual. The minister was evidently

annoyed, not so much by the opening and shutting of the door as by the inattention of his hearers, who kept

turning round their heads to see who the new arrivals were. At length the minister could bear it no longer.

"My dear people," he said, pausing in the reading, "never mind those coming in. Give you heed to the reading

of God's Word, and if you must know who are entering, I will tell you. Yes," he added, deliberately, "give

With that startling declaration, he proceeded with the reading, but had not gone more than a few verses when

"click" went the door latch. Not a head turned. It was Malcolm Monroe, slowgoing and goodnatured,

The minister paused, looking toward the door, and announced: "My dear people, here comes our friend

Malcolm Monroe, and his good wife with him, and a long walk they have had. Come away, Malcolm; come

Malcolm's face was a picture. Surprise, astonishment, and confusion followed each other across his stolid

countenance; and with quicker pace than he was ever known to use in his life before, he made his way to his

seat. No sooner had the reading began again when once more the door clicked. True to his promise, the

minister paused and cheerfully announced to his people: "This, my friends, is John Campbell, whom you all

know as 'Johnnie Sarah,' and we are very glad to see him, for, indeed, he has not been here for some time.

Come away, John; come away, man," he added, impatiently, "for we are all waiting for you."

Johnnie Sarah stood paralyzed with amazement and seemed uncertain whether to advance or to turn and flee.

The minister's impatient command, however, decided him, and he dropped into the nearest seat with all

speed, and gazed about him as if to discover where he was. He had no sooner taken his seat than the door

opened again, and some halfdozen people entered. The minister stood looking at them for some moments

and then said, in a voice of resignation: "Friends, these are some of our people from the Island, and there are

some strangers with them. But if you want to know who they are, you will just have to look at them

Needless to say, not a soul of the congregation, however consumed with curiosity, dared to look around, and

the reading of the chapter went gravely on to the close. To say that Maimie sat in utter astonishment during

this extraordinary proceeding would give but a faint idea of her state of mind. Even Mrs. Murray herself, who

had become accustomed to her husband's eccentricities, sat in a state of utter bewilderment, not knowing

what might happen next; nor did she feel quite safe until the text was announced and the sermon fairly begun.

Important as were the exercises of reading, praise, and prayer, they were only the "opening services," and

merely led up to the event of the day, which was the sermon. And it was the event, not only of the day, but of

the week. It would form the theme of conversation and afford food for discussion in every gathering of the

people until another came to take its place. Today it lasted a full hour and a half, and was an extraordinary

production. Calm, deliberate reasoning, flights of vivid imagination, passionate denunciation, and fervid

appeal, marked its course. Its subject was the great doctrine of Justification by Faith, and it contained a

complete system of theology arranged with reference to that doctrine. Ancient heresies were attacked and

exposed with completeness amounting to annihilation. Modern errors, into which our "friends" of the

different denominations had fallen, were deplored and corrected, and all possible misapplications of the

doctrine to practical life guarded against. On the positive side the need, the ground, the means, the method,

the agent, the results, of Justification, were fully set forth and illustrated. There were no anecdotes and no

poetry. The subject was much too massive and tremendous to permit of any such trifling.

As the sermon rolled on its majestic course, the congregation listened with an attentive and discriminating

appreciation that testified to their earnestness and intelligence. True, one here and there dropped into a

momentary doze, but his slumber was never easy, for he was harassed by the terrible fear of a sudden

summons by name from the pulpit to "awake and give heed to the message," which for the next few minutes

would have an application so personal and pungent that it would effectually prevent sleep for that and some

successive Sabbaths. The only apparent lapse of attention occurred when Donald Ross opened his horn

snuffbox, and after tapping solemnly upon its lid, drew forth a huge pinch of snuff and passed it to his

neighbor, who, after helping himself in like manner, passed the box on. That the lapse was only apparent was

made evident by the air of abstraction with which this operation was carried on, the snuff being held between

the thumb and forefinger for some moments, until a suitable restingplace in the sermon was reached.

When the minister had arrived at the middle of the second head, he made the discovery, as was not frequently

the case, that the remotest limits of the alloted time had been passed, and announcing that the subject would

be concluded on the following Sabbath, he summarily brought the English service to a close, and dismissed

the congregation with a brief prayer, two verses of a psalm, and the benediction.

When Maimie realized that the service was really over, she felt as if she had been in church for a week. After

the benediction the congregation passed out into the churchyard and disposed themselves in groups about the

gate and along the fences discussing the sermon and making brief inquiries as to the "weal and ill" of the

members of their families. Mrs. Murray, leaving Hughie and Maimie to wander at will, passed from group to

group, welcomed by all with equal respect and affection. Young men and old men, women and girls alike,

were glad to get her word. Today, however, the young men were not at first to be seen, but Mrs. Murray

knew them well enough to suspect that they would be found at the back of the church, so she passed slowly

around the church, greeting the people as she went, and upon turning the corner she saw a crowd under the

big maple, the rendezvous for the younger portion of the congregation before "church went in." In the center

of the group stood Ranald and Don, with Murdie, Don's eldest brother, a huge, goodnatured man, beside

them, and Peter Ruagh, with his cousin Aleck, and others of the clan. Ranald was standing, pale and silent,

with his head thrown back, as his manner was when in passion. The talk was mainly between Aleck and

Murdie, the others crowding eagerly about and putting in a word as they could. Murdie was reasoning

"It was good enough for him," Mrs. Murray heard Don interject, in a triumphant tone, to Murdie. But Murdie

Don was about to reply when he caught sight of Mrs. Murray. "Here's the minister's wife," he said, in a low

tone, and at once the group parted in shamefaced confusion. But Murdie kept his face unmoved, and as Mrs.

Murray drew slowly near, said, in a quiet voice of easy goodhumor, to Aleck, who was standing with a face

like that of a detected criminal: "Well, we will see about it to morrow night, Aleck, at the postoffice," and

he faced about to meet Mrs. Murray with an easy smile, while Aleck turned away. But Mrs. Murray was not

"Murdie," she said, quietly, when she had answered his greeting, "will you just come with me a little; I want

to ask you about something." And Murdie walked away with her, followed by the winks and nods of the

What she said Murdie never told, but he came back to them more determined upon peace than ever. The

difficulty lay, not with the goodnatured Peter, who was ready enough to settle with Ranald, but with the

fiery Aleck, who represented the nonrespectable section of the clan McRae, who lived south of the

Sixteenth, and had a reputation for wildness. Fighting was their glory, and no one cared to enter upon a feud

with any one of them. Murdie had interfered on Ranald's behalf, chiefly because he was Don's friend, but also

because he was unwilling that Ranald should be involved in a quarrel with the McRaes, which he knew

would be a serious affair for him. But now his strongest reason for desiring peace was that he had pledged

himself to the minister's wife to bring it about in some way or other. So he took Peter off by himself, and

without much difficulty, persuaded him to act the magnanimous part and drop the quarrel.

With Ranald he had a harder task. That young man was prepared to see his quarrel through at whatever

consequences to himself. He knew the McRaes, and knew well their reputation, but that only made it more

impossible for him to retreat. But Murdie knew better than to argue with him, so he turned away from him

with an indifferent air, saying: "Oh, very well. Peter is willing to let it drop. You can do as you please, only I

"She said a number of things that you don't need to know, but she said this, whatever, 'He will make it up for

Ranald stood a moment silent, then said, suddenly: "I will, too," and walking straight over to Peter, he offered

his hand, saying, "I was too quick, Peter, and I am willing to take as much as I gave. You can go on."

But Peter was far too softhearted to accept that invitation, and seizing Ranald's hand, said, heartily: "Never

He was all the more anxious to get the boys into the church when he saw Aleck making toward them. He

hurried Peter in before him, well pleased with himself and his success as peacemaker, but especially

delighted that he could now turn his face toward the minister's pew, without shame. And as he took his place

in the back seat, with Peter Ruagh beside him, the glance of pride and gratitude that flashed across the

congregation to him from the graybrown eyes made Murdie feel more than ever pleased at what he had been

able to do. But he was somewhat disturbed to notice that neither Ranald nor Don nor Aleck had followed him

In the meantime Straight Rory was winding his sinuous way through Coleshill, the Gaelic rhythm of the

In the pause following the second verse, Murdie was startled at the sound of angry voices from without. More

than Murdie heard that sound. As Murdie glanced toward the pulpit he saw that the minister had risen and

"You are a liar!" The words, in Aleck's fiery voice outside, fell distinctly upon Murdie's ear, though few in

the congregation seemed to have heard. But while Murdie was making up his mind to slip out, the minister

was before him. Quickly he stepped down the pulpit stairs, psalmbook in hand, and singing as he went,

walked quietly to the back door, and leaving his book on the windowsill, passed out. The singing went

calmly on, for the congregation were never surprised at anything their minister did.

The next verse was nearly through, when the door opened, and in came Don, followed by Aleck, looking

somewhat disheveled and shaken up, and two or three more. In a few moments the minister came in, took his

psalmbook from the windowsill, and striking up with the congregation, "Blest is the man whose strength

thou art," marched up to the pulpit again, with only an added flash in his blue eyes and a little more

triumphant swing to his coattails to indicate that anything had taken place. But Murdie looked in vain for

Ranald to appear, and waited, uncertain what to do. He had a wholesome fear of the minister, more especially

in his present mood. Instinctively he turned toward the minister's pew, and reading the look of anxious

entreaty from the pale face there, he waited till the congregation rose for prayer and then slipped out, and was

On the way home not a word was said about the disturbance. But after the evening worship, when the

minister had gone to his study for a smoke, Hughie, who had heard the whole story from Don, told it to his

"It was not Ranald's fault, mother," he declared. "You know Peter would not let him alone, and Ranald hit

him in the nose, and served him right, too. But they made it all up, and they were just going into the church

again, when that Aleck McRae pulled Ranald back, and Ranald did not want to fight at all, but he called

"Why, Ranald, of course, hit Aleck, and knocked him over, too," said Hughie, with much satisfaction; "and

then Aleckhe is an awful fighter, you knowjumped on Ranald and was pounding him just awful, the

great big brute, when out came papa. He stepped up and caught Aleck by the neck and shook him just like a

baby, saying, all the time, 'Would ye? I will teach you to fight on the Sabbath day! Here! in with you, every

one of you!' and he threw him nearly into the door, and then they all skedaddled into the church, I tell you,

Don said. They were pretty badly scart, too, but Don did not know what papa did to Ranald, and he did not

know where Ranald went, but he is pretty badly hurted, I am sure. That great big Aleck McRae is old enough

Poor Hughie was almost in tears, and his mother, who sat listening too eagerly to correct her little boy's ethics

or grammar, was as nearly overcome as he. She wished she knew where Ranald was. He had not appeared at

the evening Bible class, and Murdie had reported that he could not find him anywhere.

She put Hughie to bed, and then saw Maimie to her room. But Maimie was very unwilling to go to bed.

"Oh, auntie," she whispered, as her aunt kissed her good night, "I cannot go to sleep!" And then, after a

Then the minister's wife, looking keenly into the girl's face, made light of Ranald's misfortune.

"Oh, he will be all right," she said, "as far as his hurt is concerned. That is the least part of his trouble. You

need not worry about that. Good night, my dear." And Maimie, relieved by her aunt's tone, said "good night"

Then Mrs. Murray went into the study, determined to find out what had passed between her husband and

Ranald. She found him lying on his couch, luxuriating in the satisfaction of a good day's work behind him,

and his first pipe nearly done. She at once ventured upon the thing that lay heavy upon her heart. She began

by telling all she knew of the trouble from its beginning in the church, and then waited for her husband's

"Ah, well," he said, at length, knocking out his pipe, "perhaps I was a little severe with the lad. He may not

"Well," said the minister, hesitating, "I found that the young rascal had struck Aleck McRae first, and a very

"Oh, what a shame!" cried his wife, in indignant tears. "It was far more the fault of Peter and Aleck and the

"Now, my dear," said the minister, "you need not fear for Ranald. I do not suppose he cares much. Besides,

"Boy?" said her husband. "Well, he may be, but not many men would dare to face him." Then he added, "I

wish I had knownI fear I spokeperhaps the boy may feel unjustly treated. He is as proud as Lucifer."

"Nothing but what was true. I just told him that a boy who would break the Lord's Day by fighting, and in the

very shadow of the Lord's house, when Christian people were worshiping God, was acting like a savage, and

To this his wife made no reply, but went out of the study, leaving the minister feeling very uncomfortable

indeed. But by the end of the second pipe he began to feel that, after all, Ranald had got no more than was

good for him, and that he would be none the worse of it; in which comforting conviction he went to rest, and

Not so his wife. Wearied though she was with the long day, its excitements and its toils, sleep would not

come. Anxious thoughts about the lad she had come to love as if he were her own son or brother kept

crowding in upon her. The vision of his fierce, dark, stormy face held her eyes awake and at length drew her

from her bed. She went into the study and fell upon her knees. The burden had grown too heavy for her to

bear alone. She would share it with Him who knew what it meant to bear the sorrows and the sins of others.

As she rose, she heard Fido bark and whine in the yard below, and going to the window, she saw a man

standing at the back door, and Fido fawning upon him. Startled, she was about to waken her husband, when

the man turned his face so that the moonlight fell upon it, and she saw Ranald. Hastily she threw on her

dressing gown, put on her warm bedroom slippers and cloak, ran down to the door, and in another moment

"I am going away," he said, simply. "And I was just passing by and" he could not go on.

"Oh, Ranald!" she cried,, "I am glad you came this way. Now tell me where you are going."

The boy looked at her as if she had started a new idea in his mind, and then said, "I do not know."

The boy was silent for a little, and then said, "He will soon be well, and he will not be needing me, and he

said I could go." His voice broke with the remembrance of the parting with his father.

"Why do you go away from your home and your father, andandall of us who love you?"

"Indeed, there is no one," he replied, bitterly; "and I am not for decent people. I am not for decent people. I

"No one, Ranald?" she asked, sadly. "I thought" she paused, looking steadily into his face.

Suddenly the boy turned to her, and putting out both his hands, burst forth, his voice coming in dry sobs: "Oh,

yes, yes! I do believe you. I do believe you. And that is why I came this way. I wanted to see your door again

before I went. Oh, I will never forget you! Never, never, and I am glad I am seeing you, for now you will

knowhow much" The boy was unable to proceed. His sobs were shaking his whole frame, and to his shy

Highland Scotch nature, words of love and admiration were not easy. "You will not be sending me back

home again?" he pleaded, anticipating her. "Indeed, I cannot stay in this place after today."

But the minister's wife kept her eyes steadily upon his face without a word, trying in vain to find her voice,

and the right words to say. She had no need of words, for in her face, pale, wet with her flowing tears, and

"Oh!" he cried again, "you are wanting me to stay, and I will be ashamed before them all, and the minister,

"And I cannot let you go, Ranald, my boy," she said, commanding her voice to speech. "I want you to be a

"Afraid of them!" said the boy, in scornful surprise. "Not if they were twice as more and twice as beeg."

"And the minister did not know the whole truth, Ranald, and he was sorry he spoke to you as he did."

"Did he say that?" said Ranald, in surprise. It was to him, as to any one in that community, a terrible thing to

"Yes, indeed, Ranald, and he would be sorry if you should go away. I am sure he would blame himself."

This was quite a new idea to the boy. That the minister should think himself to be in the wrong was hardly

"And how glad we would be," she continued, earnestly, "to see you prove yourself a man before them all."

"Perhaps, but it's braver to stay, and to do your work like a man." And then, allowing him no time for words,

she pictured to him the selfish, cowardly part the man plays who marches bravely enough in the front ranks

until the battle begins, but who shrinks back and seeks an easy place when the fight comes on, till his face fell

before her in shame. And then she showed him what she would like him to do, and what she would like him

"Now, Ranald," she said, noting the effect of her words upon him, "what is it to be?"

"I will go back," he said, simply; and turning with a single word of farewell, he sprang over the fence and

disappeared in the woods. The minister's wife stood looking the way he went long after he had passed out of

sight, and then, lifting her eyes to the radiant sky with its shining lights, "He made the stars also," she

whispered, and went up to her bed and laid her down and slept in peace. Her Sabbath day's work was done.

For some weeks Ranald was not seen by any one belonging to the manse. Hughie reported that he was not at

church, nor at Bible class, and although this was not in itself an extraordinary thing, still Mrs. Murray was

uneasy, and Hughie felt that church was a great disappointment when Ranald was not there.

In their visits to Macdonald Dubh the minister and his wife never could see Ranald. His Aunt Kirsty could

not understand or explain his reluctance to attend the public services, nor his unwillingness to appear in the

house on the occasion of the minister's visits. "He is busy with the fences and about the stables preparing for

the spring's work," she said; "but, indeed, he is very queer whatever, and I cannot make him out at all."

Macdonald Dubh himself said nothing. But the books and magazines brought by the minister's wife were

always read. "Indeed, when once he gets down to his book," his aunt complained, "neither his bed nor his

The minister thought little of the boy's "vagaries," but to his wife came many an anxious thought about

Ranald and his doings. She was more disappointed than she cared to confess, even to herself, that the boy

seemed to be quite indifferent to the steadily deepening interest in spiritual things that marked the members

While she was planning how to reach him once more, an event occurred which brought him nearer to her than

he had ever been before. As they were sitting one evening at tea, the door unexpectedly opened, and without

announcement, in walked Ranald, splashed with hard riding, pale, and dazed. Without a word of reply to the

greetings that met him from all at the table, he went straight to the minister's wife, handed her an opened

letter, and stood waiting. It was addressed to Ranald himself, and was the first he had ever received in his life.

Dear RanaldThe Boss aint feelin like ritin much and the rest of the boys is all broke up, and so he told me

to rite to you and to tell you some purty bad news. I don't know how to go about it, but the fact is, Mack

Cameron got drownded yesterday tryin to pull a little fool of a Frenchman out of the river just below the

Lachine. We'd just got through the rough water and were lyin nice and quiet, gettin things together again

when that ijit Frenchman got tite and got tryin some fool trick or other walking a timber stick and got upsot

into the wet. I'd a let him go, you bet, but Mack cudn't stand to see him bobbin up and down so he ripped off

and in after him. He got him too, but somehow the varmint gripped him round the neck. They went down but

we got em out purty quick and the Frenchman come round all right, but somehow Mack wouldn't, choked

appearinly by that tarnel little fool who aint worth one of Mack's fingers, and if killin him wud do any good,

then he wudn't be livin long. We are all feelin purty bad. We are comin' home on Thursday by Cornwall,

eight or ten of us. The rest will go on with the rafts. The Boss says, better have rigs to meet us and Mack.

That's all. I haint no good at weepin', never was, wish I cud somehow, it might ease off a feller a little, but tell

you what, Ranald, I haint felt so queer since I was a boy lookin at my mother in her coffin. There was nothin

mean about Mack. He was good to the heart. He wud do his work slick and never a growl or a groan, and

when you wanted a feller to your back, Mack was there. I know there aint no use goin on like this. All I say

is, ther's a purty big hole in the world for us tonight. Boss says you'd better tell the minister. He says he's

good stuff and he'll know what to do at Mack's home. No more at present. Goodbye. Yours truely,

The minister's wife began reading the letter, wondering not a little at Ranald's manner, but when she came to

the words, "Mack Cameron got drownded," she laid the letter down with a little cry. Her husband came

"I will go at once," he said, and rang the bell. "Tell Lambert to put Black in the buggy immediately, Jessie,"

"Oh, yes, I must go. I must. The poor mother!" Then she turned to Ranald as the minister left the room. "You

"No, I was thinking I would go to tell the people. Donald Ross will go, and the Campbells, and Farquhar

McNaughton's light wagon would be bestfor thefor Mack. And then I will go round by the McGregors."

"But that will be a long round for you," said Mrs. Murray. "Could not we go by the Campbells', and they will

"Very well, then. Good by, Ranald," said the minister's wife, holding out her hand to him.

But still Ranald lingered. "It will be hard on Bella Peter," he said, in a low voice, looking out of the window.

"Yes," said Ranald, embarrassed and hesitating. "She was Mack's Mack was very fond of her, whatever."

"Yes, I am sure," said Ranald, simply. "The boys in the shanty would be teasing Mack about it, and one day

"That will be very good," said Ranald, much relieved. "And I will be going with you that way."

As Mrs. Murray left the room, Maimie came around to where Ranald was standing and said to him, gently,

"Yes," replied Ranald, in an indifferent tone, as if unwilling to talk with her about it.

Ranald caught the tremor in her voice and looked at her. "Yes," he said, with an effort. "He was good to me

in the camp. Many's the time he made it easy for me. He was next to Macdonald Bhain with the ax, and, man,

he was the grand fighterthat is," he added, adopting the phrase of the Macdonald gang, "when it was a

plain necessity." Then, forgetting himself, he began to tell Maimie how Big Mack had borne himself in the

great fight a few weeks before. But he had hardly well begun when suddenly he stopped with a groan. "But

He was realizing for the first time his loss. Maimie came nearer him, and laying her hand timidly on his arm,

said, "I am sorry, Ranald"; and Ranald turned once more and looked at her, as if surprised that she should

"Do you wonder that I am sorry? Do you think I have no heart at all?" she burst forth, impetuously.

"Indeed, I don't know," said Ranald. "Why should you care? You do not know him."

"But haven't you just told me how splendid he was, and how good he was to you, and how much you thought

of him, and" Maimie checked her rush of words with a sudden blush, and then hurried on to say, "Besides,

While Maimie was speaking, Ranald had been scanning her face as if trying to make up his mind about her.

"I am glad you are sorry," he said, slowly, gazing with so searching a look into her eyes that she let them fall.

"Indeed, it is the slouch I am," said Ranald, and he hurried off to the stable, returning in a very short time

"You would not care to go with your uncle, Maimie?" said Mrs. Murray, as Lambert drove up Black in the

"No, auntie, I think not," said Maimie. "I will take care of Hughie and the baby."

"Good by," he said, awkwardly. He felt like lifting his cap, but hesitated to do anything so extremely

unnatural. With the boys in that country such an act of courtesy was regarded as a sign of "pride," if not of

Their way lay along the concession line for a mile, and then through the woods by the bridlepath to Peter

McGregor's clearing. The green grass ran everywherealong the roadside, round the great stump roots, over

the rough pasturefields, softening and smoothing wherever it went. The woods were flushing purple, with

just a tinge of green from the bursting buds. The balsams and spruces still stood dark in the swamps, but the

tamaracks were shyly decking themselves in their exquisite robes of spring, and through all the bush the air

was filled with soft sounds and scents. In earth and air, in field and forest, life, the new spring life, ran riot.

How strangely impertinent death appeared, and how unlovely in such a world of life!

As they left the concession road and were about to strike into the woods, Mrs. Murray checked her pony, and

There was no response from Ranald, and Mrs. Murray, glancing at his gloomy face, knew that his heart was

sore at the thought of the pain they were bearing with them. She hesitated a few moments, and then said,

gently: "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth. And there shall be no more death."

But still Ranald made no reply, and they rode on through the bush in silence till they came to the clearing

beyond. As they entered the brule, Ranald checked his colt, and holding up his hand, said, "Listen!"

Through the quiet evening air, sweet and clear as a silver bell, came the long, musical note of the call that

brings the cows home for the milking. It was Bella's voice: "Koboss, koboss, koboss!"

Far across the brule they could see her standing on a big pine stump near the bars, calling to her cows that

were slowly making toward her through the fallen timber, pausing here and there to crop an especially rich

mouthful, and now and then responding to her call with soft lowings. Gently Bella chid them. "Come,

Blossom, come away now; you are very lazy. Come, Lily; what are you waiting for? You slow old poke!"

Ranald groaned aloud, "Ochhone! It will be her last glad hour," he said; "it is a hard, hard thing."

"Poor child, poor child!" said Mrs. Murray; "the Lord help her. It will be a cruel blow."

"That it is, a cruel blow," said Ranald, bitterly; so bitterly that Mrs. Murray glanced at him in surprise and

"He healeth the broken in heart," said Mrs. Murray, softly. Ranald made no reply, but let the colt take her

way through the brule toward the lane into which Bella had now got her cows. How happy the girl was! Joy

filled every tone of her voice. And why not? It was the springtime, the time of life and love. Long winter was

gone, and soon her brothers would be back from the shanties. "And Mack, too," she whispered to her happy

"And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he's weel? Is this a time to think o' wark? Ye jades, fling

"For there's nae luck aboot the hoose, There's nae luck ava, There's little pleesure in the hoose When oor gude

So she sang, not too loud; for the boys were at the barn and she would never hear the end of it.

Bella turned with a scarlet face to meet the minister's wife, and her blushes only became deeper when she saw

Ranald, for she felt quite certain that Ranald would understand the meaning of her song.

"I will go on with the cows," said Ranald, in a hoarse voice, and Mrs. Murray, alighting, gave him her pony

Peter McGregor was a stern man to his own family, and to all the world, with the single exception of his only

daughter, Bella. His six boys he kept in order with a firm hand, and not one of them would venture to take a

liberty with him. But Bella had no fear of his grim face and stern ways, and "just twiddled her father round

her finger," as her mother said, with a great show of impatience. But, in spite of all her petting from her big

brothers and her father, Bella remained quite unspoiled, the light of her home and the joy of her father's heart.

It had not escaped the father's jealous eye that Big Mack Cameron found occasion for many a visit to the boys

on an evening when the day's work was done, and that from the meetings he found his shortest way home

round by the McGregor's. At first the old man was very gruff with him, and was for sending him about his

business, but his daughter's happy face, and the light in her eyes, that could mean only one thing, made him

pause, and after a long and sleepless night, he surprised his daughter the next morning with a word of gentle

greeting and an unusual caress, and thenceforth took Big Mack to his heart. Not that any word or explanation

passed between them; it had not come to that as yet; but Big Mack felt the change, and gave him thenceforth

"I bring bad news, Mr. McGregor," he said, anxious to get done with his sad task. "There has been an

"He was trying to save a Frenchman, and when they got him out he was dead," said Ranald, hurrying through

"And they will be wanting a team," continued Ranald, "to go to Cornwall tomorrow."

The old man stood for a few moments, looking stupidly at Ranald. Then, lifting his hat from his gray head, he

Ranald turned away and stood looking down the lane, shrinking from the sight of the old man's agony. Then,

turning back to him, he said: "The minister's wife is coming yonder with Bella."

The old man started, and with a mighty effort commanding himself, said, "Now may God help me!" and went

Through the gloom of the falling night Ranald could see the frightened white face and the staring, tearless

eyes. They came quite near before Bella caught sight of her father. For a moment she hesitated, till the old

man, without a word, beckoned her to him. With a quick little run she was in his arms, where she lay

moaning, as if in sore bodily pain. Her father held her close to him, murmuring over her fond Gaelic words,

"I will go now to Donald Ross," Ranald said, in a low voice, to the minister's wife. He mounted the colt and

"They will meet at the Sixteenth at daylight," replied Ranald; and then to Mrs. Murray he said, "I will come

"Not if you need me, Bella," said Mrs. Murray, putting her arms around her. "Ranald will run in and tell them

at home." This Ranald promised to do, and rode away on his woeful journey; and before he reached home

that night, the news had spread far and wide, from house to house, like a black cloud over a sunny sky.

The homecoming of the men from the shanties had ever been a time of rejoicing in the community. The

Macdonald gang were especially welcome, for they always came back with honor and with the rewards of

their winter's work. There was always a series of welcoming gatherings in the different homes represented in

the gang, and there, in the midst of the admiring company, tales would be told of the deeds done and the trials

endured, of the adventures on the river and the wonders of the cities where they had been. All were welcome

everywhere, and none more than Big Mack Cameron. Brimming with good nature, and with a remarkable

turn for stories, he was the center of every group of young people wherever he went; and at the "bees" for

logging or for building or for cradling, Big Mack was held in honor, for he was second in feats of strength

only to Macdonald Bhain himself. It was with no common grief that people heard the word that they were

At the Sixteenth next morning, before the break of day, Ranald stood in the gloom waiting for the coming of

the teams. He had been up most of the night and he was weary in body and sore at heart, but Macdonald

Bhain had trusted him, and there must be no mistake. One by one the teams arrived. First to appear was

Donald Ross, the elder. For years he had given over the driving of his team to his boys, but today he felt that

respect to the family demanded his presence on such an errand as this; and besides, he knew well that his son

Dannie, Mack's special chum, would expect him to so honor the homecoming of his dead friend. Peter

McGregor, fearing to leave his daughter for that long and lonely day, sent his son John in his place. It was

with difficulty that Mack's father, Long John Cameron, had been persuaded to remain with the mother and to

The last to arrive was Farquhar McNaughton, Kirsty's Farquhar, with his fine black team and new light

wagon. To him was to be given the honor of bearing the body home. Gravely they talked and planned, and

"You will see to these things, Ranald, my man, said Donald Ross, with the air of one giving solemn charge.

"I will try," said Ranald, simply. But Farquhar McNaughton looked at him doubtfully.

"It is a peety," he said, "there is not one with more experience. He is but a lad."

But Donald Ross had been much impressed with Ranald's capable manner the night before.

As Ranald stood watching the wagons rumbling down the road and out of sight, he felt as if years must have

passed since he had received the letter that had laid on him the heavy burden of this sad news. That his uncle,

Macdonald Bhain, should have sent the word to him brought Ranald a sense of responsibility that awakened

the man in him, and he knew he would feel himself a boy no more. And with that new feeling of manhood

stirring within him, he went about his work that day, omitting no detail in arrangement for the seemly

Night was falling as the wagons rumbled back again from Cornwall, bringing back the shantymen and their

dead companion. Up through the Sixteenth, where a great company of people stood silent and with bared

heads, the sad procession moved, past the old church, up through the swamp, and so onward to the home of

the dead. None of the Macdonald gang turned aside to their homes till they had given their comrade over into

the keeping of his own people. By the time the Cameron's gate was reached the night had grown thick and

black, and the drivers were glad enough of the cedar bark torches that Ranald and Don waved in front of the

teams to light the way up the lane. In silence Donald Ross, who was leading, drove up his team to the little

At the gate stood Long John Cameron, silent and selfcontrolled, but with face showing white and haggard in

the light of the flaring torches. Behind him, in the shadow, stood the minister. For a few moments they all

remained motionless and silent. The time was too great for words, and these men knew when it was good to

hold their peace. At length Macdonald Bhain broke the silence, saying in his great deep voice, as he bared his

head: "Mr. Cameron, I have brought you back your son, and God is my witness, I would his place were mine

"Bring him in, Mr. Macdonald," replied the father, gravely and steadily. "Bring him in. It is the Lord; let Him

Then six of the Macdonald men came forward from the darkness, Curly and Yankee leading the way, and

lifted the coffin from Farquhar's wagon, and reverently, with heads uncovered, they followed the torches to

the door. There they stopped suddenly, for as they reached the threshold, there arose a low, long,

heartsmiting cry from within. At the sound of that cry Ranald staggered as if struck by a blow, and let his

She stood in the doorway with hands uplifted and with tears streaming down her face. "Come in, Malcolm;

Then they carried him in and laid him in the "room," and retiring to the kitchen, sat down to watch the night.

"You have done what you could, Mr. Macdonald," he said, addressing him for all, "and I will not be

unmindful of your kindness. But now you can do no more. Your wife and your people will be waiting you."

"And, please God, in good time they will be seeing us. As for me, I will neither go to my home nor up into

my bed, but I will watch by the man who was my faithful friend and companion till he is laid away."

And in this mind he and his men remained firm, taking turns at the watching all that night and the next day.

As Macdonald finished speaking, the minister came into the kitchen, bringing with him the mother and the

children. The men all rose to their feet, doing respect to the woman and to her grief. When they were seated

again, the minister rose and said: "My friends, this is a night for silence and not for words. The voice of the

Lord is speaking in our ears. It becomes us to hear, and to submit ourselves to His holy will. Let us pray."

As Ranald listened to the prayer, he could not help thinking how different it was from those he was

accustomed to hear from the pulpit. Solemn, simple, and direct, it lifted the hearts of all present up to the

throne of God, to the place of strength and of peace. There was no attempt to explain the "mystery of the

Providence," but there was a sublime trust that refused to despair even in the presence of impenetrable

After the minister had gone, Macdonald Bhain took Ranald aside and asked him as to the arrangements for

the funeral. When Ranald had explained to him every detail, Macdonald laid his hand on his nephew's

shoulder and said, kindly, "It is well done, Ranald. Now you will be going home, and in the morning you will

see your aunt, and if she will be wishing to come to the wake tomorrow night, then you will bring her."

Then Ranald went home, feeling well repaid for his long hours of anxiety and toil.

The wake was an important feature in the social life of the people of Indian Lands. In ancient days, in the

land of their forefathers, the wake had been deemed a dire necessity for the safeguarding of the dead, who

were supposed to be peculiarly exposed to the malicious attacks of evil spirits. Hence, with many lighted

candles, and with much incantation, friends would surround the body through the perilous hours of darkness.

It was a weird and weary vigil, and small wonder if it appeared necessary that the courage and endurance of

the watchers should be fortified with copious draughts of "mountain dew," with bread and cheese

accompaniments. And the completeness of their trust in the efficacy of such supports was too often evidenced

by the condition of the watchers toward the dawn of the morning. And, indeed, if the spirits were not too

fastidious, and if they had so desired, they could have easily flown away, not only with the "waked," but with

But those days and those notions had long passed away. The wake still remained, but its meaning and

purpose had changed. No longer for the guarding of the dead, but for the comfort of the living, the friends

gathered to the house of mourning and watched the weary hours. But Highland courtesy forbade that the

custom of refreshing the watchers should be allowed to die out, and hence, through the night, once and again,

the whisky, bread, and cheese were handed around by some close friend of the family, and were then placed

upon the table for general use. It was not surprising that, where all were free to come and welcome to stay,

and where anything like scantiness in providing or niggardliness in serving would be a matter of family

disgrace, the wake often degenerated into a frolic, if not a debauch. In order to check any such tendency, it

had been the custom of late years to introduce religious services, begun by the minister himself and continued

As the evening fell, a group of elders stood by the back door of Long John Cameron's sorrowstricken home,

talking quietly over the sad event and arranging for the "exercises" of the night. At a little distance from them

sat Yankee, with Ranald beside him, both silent and listening somewhat indifferently to the talk of the others.

Yankee was not in his element. He was always welcome in the homes of his comrades, for he was ready with

his tongue and clever with his fingers, but with the graver and religious side of their lives he had little in

common. It was, perhaps, this feeling that drew him toward Macdonald Dubh and Ranald, so that for weeks

at a time he would make their house his home. He had "no use for wakes," as he said himself, and had it not

been that it was one of the gang that lay dead within, Yankee would have avoided the house until all was over

Of the elders, only four were present as yet: Donald Ross, who was ever ready to bring the light of his kindly

face to cheer the hearts of the mourners; Straight Rory, who never, by any chance, allowed himself to miss

the solemn joy of leading the funeral psalm; Peter McRae, who carried behind his stern old face a heart of

genuine sympathy; and Kenny Crubach, to whom attendance at funerals was at once a duty and a horror.

Donald Ross, to whom all the elders accorded, instinctively, the place of leader, was arranging the order of

"Mr. McCuaig," he said to Straight Rory, "you will take charge of the singing. The rest of us will, in turn,

give out a psalm and read a portion of Scripture with a few suitable remarks, and lead in prayer. We will not

be forgetting, brethren," said old Donald, "that there will be sore hearts here this night.'

Straight Rory's answer was a sigh so woeful and so deep that Yankee looked over at him and remarked in an

undertone to Ranald, "He ain't so cheerful as he might be. He must feel awful inside."

"Aye, it is sad, indeed," replied Donald Ross. "He was a good son and they will be missing him bad. It is a

"Yes, the loss is great," said Peter, grimly. "But, after all, that is a small thing."

Straight Rory sighed again even more deeply than before. Donald Ross said nothing.

The boy made no reply. His heart was sick with horror at Peter's meaning, which he understood only too well.

"Aye," went on Peter, "it is a terrible, mysterious Providence, and a heavy warning to the ungodly and

"Yes, Mr. Ross," said Peter, ignoring Kenny Crubach, "but at times the voice of Providence cannot be

misunderstood, and it will not do for the elders of the church to be speaking soft things when the Lord is

Donald was silent, while Straight Rory assented with a heartrending "Aye, aye," which stirred Yankee's bile

"What's he talkin' about? He don't seem to be usin' my language," he said, in a tone of wrathful perplexity.

"Judgment and wrath," he echoed, quickly. "The man would require to be very skillful whatever in

interpreting the ways of Providence, and very bold to put such a meaning into the death of a young man such

Then Yankee began to understand. "I'll be golblamed to a cinder!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, falling

back upon a combination that seemed more suitable to the circumstances. "They ain't sendin' him to hell, are

they?" He shut up the knife with which he had been whittling with a sharp snap, and rising to his feet, walked

"Far be it from me to judge what is not to be seen," said Peter. "But we are allowed and commanded to

"Fruits?" replied Kenny, quickly. "He was a good son and brother and friend; he was honest and clean, and he

"Exactly so," said Peter. "I am not denying much natural goodness, for indeed he was a fine lad; but I will be

looking for the evidence that he was in a state of grace. I have not heard of any, and glad would I be to hear

The old man's emotion took the sharpness out of Kenny's speech, but he persisted, stoutly, "Goodness is

"You will not be holding the Armenian doctrine of works, Mr. Campbell?" said Peter, severely. "You would

Yankee, who had been following the conversation intently, thought he saw meaning in it at last.

"If I might take a hand," he said, diffidently, "I might contribute somethin' to help you out."

Peter regarded him a little impatiently. He had forgotten the concrete, for the moment, in the abstract, and

was donning his armor for a battle with Kenny upon the "fundamentals." Hence he was not too well pleased

with Yankee's interruption. But Donald Ross gladly welcomed the diversion. The subject was to him

"Well," said Yankee, slowly, "from your remarks I gathered that you wanted information about the doings

of" he jerked his head toward the house behind him. "Now, I want to say," he continued, confidentially,

"you've come to the right shop, for I've ate and slept, I've worked and fought, I've lived with him by day and

by night, and right through he was the straightest, whitest man I ever seen, and I won't except the boss

himself." Yankee paused to consider the effect of this statement, and to allow its full weight to be

appreciated; and then he continued: "Yes, sir, you may just bet youryou may be right well sure," correcting

himself, "that you're safe in givin'"here he dropped his voice, and jerked his head toward the house

again"in givin' the highest marks, full value, and no discount. Why," he went on, with an enthusiasm rare

in him, "ask any man in the gang, any man on the river, if they ever seen or heard of his doin' a mean or

crooked thing, and if you find any feller who says he did, bring him here, and, by"Yankee remembered

himself in time"and I give you my solemn word that I'll eat him, hat and boots." Yankee brought his bony

fist down with a whack into his hand. Then he relapsed into his lazy drawl again: "No, siree, hoss! If it's

doin's you're after, don't you be slow in bankin' your little heap on HIS doin's."

Donald Ross grasped Yankee's hand and shook it hard. "I will be thanking you for that word," he said,

But Peter felt that the cause of truth demanded that he should speak out. "Mr. Latham," he said, solemnly,

"what you have been saying is very true, no doubt, but if a man is not 'born again he cannot see the kingdom

"Born again!" said Yankee. "How? I don't seem to get you. But I guess the feller that does the right thing all

"There you are," said Yankee, warmly, "right again, and that's what I always hold to. It's the heart a man

carries round in his inside. Never mind your talk, never mind your actin' up for people to see. Give me the

heart that is warm and red, and beats proper time, you bet. Say! you're all right." Yankee gazed admiringly at

"I am afraid you are not remembering what the Apostle Paul said, Mr. Latham," said Peter, determined to

deal faithfully with Yankee. "'By the deeds of the law shall no flesh be justified.'"

It was now Yankee's turn to gaze helplessly at Peter. "I guess you have dropped me again," he said, slowly.

"Man," said Peter, with a touch of severity, "you will need to be more faithful with the Word of God. The

Scriptures plainly declare, Mr. Latham, that it is impossible for a man to be saved in his natural state."

"The prophet says that the plowing and sowing, the very prayers, of the wicked are an abomination to the

"Why, now you're talkin', but look here." Yankee lowered his tone. "Look here, you wouldn't go for to

call"here again he jerked his head toward the house"wicked, would you? Fur if you do, why, there ain't

"'There is none righteous, no, not one,'" quoted Peter, with the air of a man who forces himself to an

"That's so, I guess," said Yankee, meditatively, "but it depends some on what you mean. I don't set myself up

for any copybook headline, but as men gomen, say, just like you hereI'd put I'd put him alongside,

This was turning the tables somewhat sharply upon Peter, but Yankee's keen, wideopen eyes were upon

"Indeed, if it will be so, it will not be for any merit of my own, but only because of the mercy of the Lord in

"Guess you're all right," said Yankee, encouragingly; "and as for as forhimdon't you worry about

But Peter only shook his head hopelessly. "You are sorely in need of instruction, Mr. Latham," he said, sadly.

"We cannot listen to our hearts in this matter. We must do honor to the justice of God, and the word is clear,

"Now look here. You let me talk awhile. I ain't up in your side of the business, but I guess we are tryin' to

make the same point. Now supposin' you was in for a hoss race, which I hope ain't no offense, seein' it ain't

likely but suppose, and to take first money you had to perdoose a twofifteen gait. 'Purty good lick,' says you;

'now where will I get the nag?' Then you sets down and thinks, and, says you, 'By gum, which of course you

wouldn't, but supposin' says you, 'a Blue Grass bred is the hoss for that gait'; and you begin to inquire around,

but there ain't no Blue Grass bred stock in the country, and that race is creepin' up close. One day, just when

you was beginnin' to figure on takin' the dust to the hull field, you sees a colt comin' along the road hittin' up

a purty slick gait. 'Hello,' says you, 'that looks likely,' and you begin to negotiate, and you finds out that colt's

all right and her time's twoten. Then you begin to talk about the weather and the crops until you finds out

the price, and you offer him half money. Then, when you have fetched him down to the right figure, you pulls

out your wad, thinkin' how that colt will make the rest look like a line of fenceposts. 'But hold on,' says you,

'is this here colt Blue Grass bred?' 'Blue Grass! Not much. This here's Grey Eagle stock, North Virginny' says

he. 'Don't want her,' says you. 'What's the matter with the colt?' says he. 'Nothin', only she ain't Blue Grass.

Got to be Blue Grass.' 'But she's got the gait, ain't she?' 'Yes, the gait's all right, action fine, goodlooking,

too, nothing wrong, but she ain't Blue Grass bred.' And so you lose your race. Now what kind of a name

Peter saw Yankee's point, but he only shook his head more hopelessly than before, and turned to enter the

house, followed by Straight Rory, still sighing deeply, and old Donald Ross. But Kenny remained a moment

behind the others, and offering his hand to Yankee, said: "You are a right man, and I will be proud to know

Yankee turned a puzzled face to Kenny. "I say," he inquired, in an amazed voice, "do you think he didn't

"But look here," said Yankee, "they don't hold thatthat he is" Yankee paused. The thought was too

"See here," said Yankee, facing Kenny squarely, "you're a purty levelheaded man, and you're up in this

business. Do you think with them? No monkeying. Straight talk now." Yankee was in no mood to be trifled

with. He was in such deadly earnest that he had forgotten all about Ranald, who was now standing behind

"Whisht!" said Kenny, pointing into the kitchen behind. Yankee looked and saw Bella Peter and her father

"Mr. Campbell," he whispered, eagerly, and forgetting the respect due to an elder, he grasped Kenny's arm,

"That I do not," said Kenny, emphatically, and Yankee, at that word, struck his hand into Kenny's palm with

"I knew blamed well you were not any such dumb fool," he said, softening his speech in deference to Kenny's

office and the surrounding circumstances. So saying, he went away to the stable, and when Ranald and his

uncle, Macdonald Bhain, followed a little later to put up Peter McGregor's team, they heard Yankee inside,

"Whisht, man!" said Macdonald Bhain, sternly. "This is no place or time to be using such language. What is

But Macdonald could get no satisfaction out of him, and he said to his nephew, "What is it, Ranald?"

"It is the elders, Peter McRae and Straight Rory," said Ranald, sullenly. "They were saying that Mack

"Look here, boss," interrupted Yankee, "I ain't well up in Scriptures, and don't know much about these things,

and them elders do, and they saysome of them, anywayare sending Mack to hell. Now, I guess you're

just as well up as they are in this business, and I want your solemn opinion." Yankee's face was pale, and his

eyes were glaring like a wild beast's. "What I say is," he went on, "if a feller like Mack goes to hell, then

there ain't any. At least none to scare me. Where Mack is will be good enough for me. What do you say,

"Be quiet, man," said Macdonald Bhain, gravely, but kindly. "Do you not know you are near to blasphemy

there? But I forgive you for the sore heart you have; and about poor Mack yonder, no one will be able to say

for certain. I am a poor sinner, and the only claim I have to God's mercy is the claim of a poor sinner. But I

will dare to say that I have hope in the Lord for myself, and I will say that I have a great deal more for

"I guess that settles it all right, then," said Yankee, drawing a big breath of content and biting off a huge chew

from his plug. "But what the blank blank," he went on, savagely, "do these fellers mean, stirring up a man's

"Indeed, they are good men," said Macdonald Bhain, "but they will not be knowing Mack as I knew him. He

Ranald felt as if he had wakened out of a terrible nightmare, and followed his uncle into the house, with a

As they entered the room where the people were gathered, Donald Ross was reading the hundred and third

psalm, and the words of love and pity and sympathy were dropping from his kindly lips like healing balm

upon the mourning hearts, and as they rose and fell upon the cadences of "Coleshill," the tune Straight Rory

always chose for this psalm, the healing sank down into all the sore places, and the peace that passeth

"For, as the heaven in its height The earth surmounteth far, So great to those that do him fear, His tender

When they reached that verse, the mother took up the song and went bravely on through the words of the

"As far as east is distant from The west, so far hath he From us removed, in his love, All our iniquity."

As she sang the last words her hand stole over to Bella, who sat beside her quiet but tearless, looking far

Bella's lip began to tremble, and two big tears ran down her pale cheeks, and one could see that the sore pain

After Donald Ross had finished his part of the "exercises," he called upon Kenny Crubach, who read briefly,

and without comment, the exquisite Scottish paraphrase of Luther's "little gospel":

"Behold the amazing gift of love The Father hath bestowed On us, the sinful sons of men, To call us sons of

All this time Peter McRae, the man of iron, had been sitting with hardening face, his eyes burning in his head

like glowing coals; and when Donald Ross called upon him for "some words of exhortation and comfort

suitable to the occasion," without haste and without hesitation the old man rose, and trembling with

excitement and emotion, he began abruptly: "An evil spirit has been whispering to me, as to the prophet of

old, 'Speak that which is good,' but the Lord hath delivered me from mine enemy, and my answer is, 'As the

Lord liveth, what the Lord said unto me, that will I speak'; and it is not easy."

As the old man paused, a visible terror fell upon all the company assembled. The poor mother sat looking at

him with the look of one shrinking from a blow, while Bella Peter's face expressed only startled fear.

"And this is the word of the Lord this night to me," the elder went on, his voice losing its tremor and ringing

out strong and clear: "'There is none righteous, no, not one, for all have sinned and come short of the glory of

God. He that believeth shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned.' That is my message, and it

is laid upon me as a sore burden to hear the voice of the Lord in this solemn Providence, and to warn one and

He paused long, while men could hear their hearts beat. Then, raising his voice, he cried aloud: "Woe is me!

Alas! it is a grievous burden. The Lord pity us all, and give grace to this stricken family to kiss the rod that

At this word the old man's voice suddenly broke, and he sat down amid an awful silence. No one could

misunderstand his meaning. As the awful horror of it gradually made its way into her mind, Mrs. Cameron

threw up her apron over her head and rocked in an agony of sobs, while Long John sat with face white and

rigid. Bella Peter, who had been gazing with a fascinated stare upon the old elder's face while he was

speaking his terrible words, startled by Mrs. Cameron's sobs, suddenly looked wildly about as if for help, and

then, with a wild cry, fled toward the door. But before she had reached it a strong hand caught her and a great

voice, deep and tender, commanded her: "Wait, lassie, sit down here a meenute." It was Macdonald Bhain.

He stood a short space silent before the people, then, in a voice low, deep, and thrilling, he began: "You have

been hearing the word of the Lord through the lips of his servant, and I am not saying but it is the true word;

but I believe that the Lord will be speaking by different voices, and although I hev not the gift, yet it is laid

upon me to declare what is in my heart, and a sore heart it is, and sore hearts hev we all. But I will be

thinking of a fery joyful thing, and that is that 'He came to call, not the righteous, but sinners,' and that in His

day many sinners came about Him and not one would He turn away. And I will be remembering a fery great

sinner who cried out in his dying hour, 'Lord, remember me,' and not in vain. And I'm thinking that the Lord

will be making it easy for men to be saved, and not hard, for He was that anxious about it that He gave up His

own life. But it is not given me to argue, only to tell you what I know about the lad who is lying yonder

silent. It will be three years since he will be coming on the shanties with me, and from the day that he left his

mother's door, till he came back again, never once did he fail me in his duty in the camp, or on the river, or in

the town, where it was fery easy to be forgetting. And the boys would be telling me of the times that he

would be keeping them out of those places. And it is not soon that Dannie Ross will be forgetting who it was

that took him back from the camp when the disease was upon him and all were afraid to go near him, and for

seex weeks, by day and by night, watched by him and was not thinking of himself at all. And sure am I that

the lessons he would be hearing from his mother and in the Bible class and in the church were not lost on him

whatever. For on the river, when the water was quiet and I would be lying in the tent reading, it is often that

Mack Cameron would come in and listen to the Word. Aye, he was a good lad"the great voice shook a

little"he would not be thinking of himself, and at the last, it was for another man he gave his life."

Macdonald stood for a few moments silent, his face working while he struggled with himself. And then all at

once he grew calm, and throwing back his head, he looked through the door, and pointing into the darkness,

said: "And yonder is the lad, and with him a great company, and his face is smiling, and, oh! it is a good land,

"God preserve us!" Kenny Crubach ejaculated; but old Donald Ross rose and said, "Let us call upon the name

of the Lord." From his prayer it was quite evident that for him at least all doubts and fears as to poor Mack's

state were removed. And even Peter McRae, subdued not so much by any argument of Macdonald Bhain's as

by his rapt vision, followed old Donald's prayer with broken words of hope and thanksgiving; and it was

Peter who was early at the manse next morning to repeat to the minister the things he had seen and heard the

night before. And all next day, where there had been the horror of unnamable fear, hope and peace prevailed.

The service was held under the trees, and while the mother and Bella Peter sat softly weeping, there was no

bitterness in their tears, for the sermon breathed of the immortal hope, and the hearts of all were comforted.

There was no parade of grief, but after the sermon was over the people filed quietly through the room to take

the last look, and then the family, with Bella and her father, were left alone a few moments with their dead,

while the Macdonald men kept guard at the door till the time for "the lifting" would come.

After Long John passed out, followed by the family, Macdonald Bhain entered the room, closed the lid down

So, with solemn dignity, as befitted them, they carried Big Mack from his home to Farquhar McNaughton's

light wagon. Along the concession road, past the new church, through the swamp, and on to the old

churchyard the long procession slowly moved. There was no unseemly haste, and by the time the last words

were spoken, and the mound decently rounded, the long shadows from the woods lay far across the fields.

Quietly the people went their ways homeward, back to their life and work, but for many days they carried

with them the memory of those funeral scenes. And Ranald, though he came back from Big Mack's grave

troubled with questions that refused to be answered, still carried with him a heart healed of the pain that had

torn it these last days. He believed it was well with his friend, but about many things he was sorely perplexed,

The day after Big Mack's funeral, Ranald was busy polishing Lizette's glossy skin, before the stable door.

This was his favorite remedy for gloomy thoughts, and Ranald was full of gloomy thoughts today. His

father, though going about the house, was still weak, and worse than all, was fretting in his weakness. He was

oppressed with the terrible fear that he would never again be able to do a man's work, and Ranald knew from

the dark look in his father's face that day and night the desire for vengeance was gnawing at his heart, and

Ranald also knew something of the bitterness of this desire from the fierce longing that lay deep in his own.

Some day, when his fingers would be feeling for LeNoir's throat, he would drink long and fully that sweet

draught of vengeance. He knew, too, that it added to the bitterness in his father's heart to know that, in the

spring's work that every warm day was bringing nearer, he could take no part; and that was partly the cause

of Ranald's gloom. With the slowmoving oxen, he could hardly hope to get the seed in in time, and they

needed the crop this year if ever they did, for last year's interest on the mortgage was still unpaid and the next

As he was putting the finishing touches upon Lisette's satin skin, Yankee drove up to the yard with his Fox

horse and buckboard. His box was strapped on behind, and his blankets, rolled up in a bundle, filled the seat

"Mornin'," he called to Ranald. "Purty fine shine, that, and purty fine mare, all round," he continued, walking

"Purty fine beast," he said, in a low tone, running his hands down her legs. "Guess you wouldn't care to part

"Ought to fetch a fairly good figure," continued Yankee, meditatively. "Le's see. She's from La Roque's

Lisette, ain't she? Ought to have some speed." He untied Lisette's halter. "Take her down in the yard yonder,"

Ranald threw the halter over Lisette's neck, sprang on her back, and sent her down the lane at a good smart

pace. At the bottom of the lane he wheeled her, and riding low upon her neck, came back to the barn like a

"By jings!" exclaimed Yankee, surprised out of his lazy drawl; "she's got it, you bet your last brick. See here,

boy, there's money into that animal. Thought I would like to have her for my buckboard, but I have got an

onfortunit conscience that won't let me do up any partner, so I guess I can't make any offer."

Ranald stood beside Lisette, his arm thrown over her beautiful neck, and his hand fondling her gently about

the ears. "I will not sell her." His voice was low and fierce, and all the more so because he knew that was just

"I say," said Yankee, suddenly, "cudn't bunk me in your loft, cud you! Can't stand the town. Too close."

The confining limitations of the Twentieth, that metropolitan center of some dozen buildings, including the

"Yes, indeed," said Ranald, heartily. "We will be very glad to have you, and it will be the very best thing for

"S'pose old Fox cud nibble round the brule," continued Yankee, nodding his head toward his sorrel horse.

"Don't think I will do much drivin' machine business. Rather slow." Yankee spent the summer months selling

"There's plenty of pasture," said Ranald, "and Fox will soon make friends with Lisette. She is very kind,

"Used to drive some myself," said Yankee. But to this idea Ranald did not take kindly.

Yankee stood for a few moments looking down the lane and over the fields, and then, turning to Ranald, said,

"Guess it's about ready to begin plowin'. Got quite a lot of it to do, too, ain't you?"

"Purty slow business with the oxen. How would it do to hitch up Lisette and old Fox yonder?"

"I would be very glad," said Ranald, a great load lifting from his heart. "I was afraid of the work with only the

oxen." And then, after a pause, he added, "What did you mean about buying Lisette?" He was anxious to have

"I said what I meant," answered Yankee. "I thought perhaps you would rather have the money than the colt;

but I tell you what, I hain't got money enough to put into that bird, and don't you talk selling to any one till

we see her gait hitched up. But I guess a little of the plow won't hurt for a few weeks or so."

Next day Lisette left behind her forever the free, happy days of colthood. At first Ranald was unwilling to

trust her to any other hands than his own, but when he saw how skillfully and gently Yankee handled her,

soothing her while he harnessed and hitched her up, he recognized that she was safer with Yankee than with

They spent the morning driving up and down the lane with Lisette and Fox hitched to the stoneboat. The

colt had been kindly treated from her earliest days, and consequently knew nothing of fear. She stepped

daintily beside old Fox, fretting and chafing in the harness, but without thought of any violent objection. In

the afternoon the colt was put through her morning experience, with the variation that the stoneboat was

piled up with a fairly heavy load of earth and stone. And about noon the day following, Lisette was turning

Before two weeks were over, Yankee, with the horses, and Ranald, with the oxen, had finished the plowing,

and in another ten days the fields lay smooth and black, with the seed harrowed safely in, waiting for the rain.

Yankee's visit had been a godsend, not only to Ranald with his work, but also to Macdonald Dubh. He would

talk to the grim, silent man by the hour, after the day's work was done, far into the night, till at length he

"I will never be a man again," he said, bitterly, to Yankee. "And there is the farm all to pay for. I have put it

off too long and now it is too late, and it is all because of thatthatbrute beast of a Frenchman."

"And I am saying," continued Macdonald Dubh, opening his heart still further, "I am saying, it was no fair

fight, whatever. I could whip him with one hand. It was when I was pulling out Big Mack, poor fellow, from

"And, oh, I will be praying God to give me strength just to meet him! I will ask no more. But," he added, in

bitter despair, "there is no use for me to pray. Strength will come to me no more."

"Well," said Yankee, brightly, "needn't worry about that varmint. He ain't worth it, anyhow."

"Aye, he is not worth it, indeed, and that is the man who has brought me to this." That was the bitter part to

"Now look here," said Yankee, "course I ain't much good at this, but if you will just quit worryin', I'll

"And what good would that be to me?" said Macdonald Dubh. "It is myself that wants to meet him." It was

not so much the destruction of LeNoir that he desired as that he should have the destroying of him. While he

cherished this feeling in his heart, it was not strange that the minister in his visits found Black Hugh

unapproachable, and concluded that he was in a state of settled "hardness of heart." His wife knew better, but

even she dared not approach Macdonald Dubh on that subject, which had not been mentioned between them

since the morning he had opened his heart to her. The dark, haggard, gloomy face haunted her. She longed to

help him to peace. It was this that sent her to his brother, Macdonald Bhain, to whom she told as much of the

"I am afraid he will never come to peace with God until he comes to peace with this man," she said, sadly,

"I will talk with him," answered Macdonald Bhain, and at the end of the week he took his way across to his

He found him down in the brule, where he spent most of his days toiling hard with his ax, in spite of the

earnest entreaties of Ranald. He was butting a big tree that the fire had laid prone, but the ax was falling with

As he finished his cut, his brother called to him, "That is no work for you, Hugh; that is no work for a man

"Give me the ax," said Macdonald Bhain. He mounted the tree as his brother stepped down, and swung his ax

deep into the wood with a mighty blow. Then he remembered, and stopped. He would not add to his brother's

bitterness by an exhibition of his mighty, unshaken strength. He stuck the ax into the log, and standing up,

looked over the brule. "It is a fine bit of ground, Hugh, and will raise a good crop of potatoes."

"Aye," said Macdonald Dubh, sadly. "It has lain like this for three years, and ought to have been cleared long

"Indeed, it will burn all the better for that," said his brother, cheerfully. "And as for the potatoes, there is a bit

But Black Hugh shook his head. "Ranald will use no man's clearing but his own," he said. "I am afraid he has

Macdonald Bhain glanced at his brother's face with a look of mingled pity and admiration. "Ah," he said,

"Hugh, it's a proud man you are. Macdonalds have plenty of that, whatever, and we come by it good enough.

Do you remember at home, when our father"and he went off into a reminiscence of their boyhood days,

talking in gentle, kindly, loving tones, till the shadow began to lift from his brother's face, and he, too, began

to talk. They spoke of their father, who had always been to them a kind of hero; and of their mother, who had

"She was a good woman," said Macdonald Bhain, with a note of tenderness in his voice. "And it was the hard

load she had to bear, and I would to God she were living now, that I might make up to her something of what

"And I am thankful to God," said his brother, bitterly, "that she is not here to see me now, for it would but

"You will not be saying that," said Macdonald Bhain. "But I am saying that the Lord will be honored in you

"Indeed, there is not much for me," said his brother, gloomily, "but the sickbed and six feet or more of the

"Hugh, man," said his brother, hastily, "you must not be talking like that. It is not the speech of a brave man.

"Beaten!" echoed his brother, with a kind of cry. "You have said the word. Beaten it is, and by a man that is

no equal of mine. You know that," he said, appealing, almost anxiously, to his brother. "You know that well.

You know that I am brought to this"he held up his gaunt, bony hands"by a man that is no equal of mine,

and I will never be able to look him in the face and say as much to him. But if the Almighty would send him

"Whisht, Hugh," said Macdonald Bhain, in a voice of awe. "It is a terrible word you have said, and may the

"Forgive me!" echoed his brother, in a kind of frenzy. "Indeed, he will not be doing that. Did not the

"Indeed," replied Black Hugh, like a man who had thought it all out, "she would be reading it out of the Book

to me that unless I would be forgiving, thatthat" he paused, not being able to find a word, but went

"Yes, yes. That is true," assented Macdonald Bhain. "But, by the grace of God, you will forgive, and you will

"Forgive!" cried Black Hugh, his face convulsed with passion. "Hear me!"he raised his hand to

But his brother caught his arm and drew it down swiftly, saying: "Whisht, man. Don't tempt the Almighty."

Then he added, "You would not be shutting yourself out from the presence of the Lord and from the presence

His brother stood silent a few moments, his hard, dark face swept with a storm of emotions. Then he said,

But his brother caught him by the arm and said to him, "Hear me, Hugh. It is for you."

They walked on in silence till they were near the house. Ranald and Yankee were driving their teams into the

"Aye," said his brother; "it is a pity he has not a better chance. He is great for his books, but he has no chance

whatever, and he will be a bowed man before he has cleared this farm and paid the debt on it."

"Never you fear," said his brother. "Ranald will do well. But, man, what a size he is!"

"He is that," said his father, proudly. "He is as big as his father, and I doubt some day he may be as good a

"If he be as good," said his brother, kindly, "I will be content; but I will not be here to see it."

"Whisht, man," said his brother, hastily. "You are not to speak such things, nor have them in your mind."

"Ah," said Macdonald Dubh, sadly, "my day is not far off, and that I know right well."

Macdonald Bhain flung his arm hastily round his brother's shoulder. "Do not speak like that, Hugh," he said,

his voice breaking suddenly. And then he drew away his arm as if ashamed of his emotion, and said, with

kindly dignity, "Please God, you will see many days yet, and see your boy come to honor among men."

Before they came to the door, Macdonald Bhain said, with seeming indifference, "You have not been to

church since you got up, Hugh. You will be going tomorrow, if it is a fine day?"

"In the buckboard?" said Macdonald Dubh. "And, indeed, I was never in a buckboard in my life."

"It is not too late to begin tomorrow," said his brother, "and it will do you good."

"I doubt that," said Black Hugh, gloomily. "The church will not be doing me much good any more."

His brother did not promise, but next day the congregation received a shock of surprise to see Macdonald

Dubh walk down the aisle to his place in the church. And through all the days of the spring and summer his

place was never empty; and though the shadow never lifted from his face, the minister's wife felt comforted

Macdonald Bhain's visit to his brother was fruitful in another way. After taking counsel with Yankee and

Kirsty, he resolved that he would speak to his neighbors and make a "bee," to attack the brule. He knew better

than to consult either his brother or his nephew, feeling sure that their Highland pride would forbid accepting

any such favor, and all the more because it seemed to be needed. But without their leave the bee was

arranged, and in the beginning of the following week the house of Macdonald Dubh was thrown into a state

of unparalleled confusion, and Kirsty went about in a state of dishevelment that gave token that the daily

struggle with dirt had reached the acute stage. From top to bottom, inside and outside, everything that could

be scrubbed was scrubbed, and then she settled about her baking, but with all caution, lest she should excite

her brother's or her nephew's suspicion. It was a good thing that little baking was required, for the teams that

brought the men with their axes and loggingchains for the day's work at the brule brought also their sisters

and mothers with baskets of provisions. A logging bee without the sisters and mothers with their baskets

The first man to arrive with his team was Peter McGregor's Angus, and with him came his sister Bella. He

was shortly afterward followed by other teams in rapid successionthe Rosses, the McKerachers, the

Camerons, both Don and Murdie, the Rory McCuaigs, the McRaes, two or three families of them, the Frasers,

and others till some fifteen teams and forty men, and boys, who thought themselves quite men, lined up in

The bee was a great affair, for Macdonald Bhain was held in high regard by the people; and besides this, the

misfortune that had befallen his brother, and the circumstances under which it had overtaken him, had

aroused in the community a very deep sympathy for him, and people were glad of the opportunity to manifest

this sympathy. And more than all, a logging bee was an event that always promised more or less excitement

Yankee was "boss" for the day. This position would naturally have fallen to Macdonald Bhain, but at his

The men with the axes went first, chopping up the halfburned logs into lengths suitable for the

burningpiles, clearing away the brushwood, and cutting through the big roots of the fireeaten stumps so

that they might more easily be pulled. Then followed the teams with their loggingchains, hauling the logs to

the piles, jerking out and drawing off the stumps whose huge roots stuck up high into the air, and drawing

great heaps of brushwood to aid in reducing the heavy logs to ashes. At each logpile stood a man with a

handspike to help the driver to get the log into position, a work requiring strength and skill, and above all, a

knowledge of the ways of logs which comes only by experience. It was at this work that Macdonald Bhain

shone. With his mighty strength he could hold steady one end of a log until the team could haul the other into

The stumppulling was always attended with more or less interest and excitement. Stumps, as well as logs,

have their ways, and it takes a long experience to understand the ways of stumps.

In stumphauling, young Aleck McGregor was an expert. He rarely failed to detect the weak side of a stump.

He knew his team, and what was of far greater importance, his team knew him. They were partly of

FrenchCanadian stock, not as large as Farquhar McNaughton's big, fat blacks, but "as full of spirit as a

bottle of whisky," as Aleck himself would say. Their first tentative pulls at the stump were taken with

caution, until their driver and themselves had taken the full measure of the strength of the enemy. But when

once Aleck had made up his mind that victory was possible, and had given them the call for the final effort,

then his team put their bodies and souls into the pull, and never drew back till something came. Their driver

Farquhar's handsome blacks, on the other hand, were never handled after this fashion. They were slow and

sure and steady, like their driver. Their great weight gave them a mighty advantage in a pull, but never, in all

the solemn course of their existence, had they thrown themselves into any doubtful trial of strength. In a slow,

steady haul they were to be relied upon; but they never could be got to jerk, and a jerk is an important feature

in stumphauling tactics. Today, however, a new experience was awaiting them. Farquhar was an old man

and slow, and Yankee, while he was unwilling to hurry him, was equally unwilling that his team should not

do a full day's work. He persuaded Farquhar that his presence was necessary at one of the piles, not with the

handspike, but simply to superintend the arranging of the mass for burning. "For it ain't every man, Yankee

declared, "could build a pile to burn." As for his team, Yankee persuaded the old man that Ranald was

unequaled in handling horses; that last winter no driver in the camp was up to him. Reluctantly Farquhar

handed his team over to Ranald, and stood for some time watching the result of the new combination.

Ranald was a born horseman. He loved horses and understood them. Slowly he moved the blacks at their

work, knowing that horses are sensitive to a new hand and voice, and that he must adapt himself to their

ways, if he would bring them at last to his. Before long Farquhar was contented to go off to his pile, satisfied

that his team was in good hands, and not sorry to be relieved of the necessity of hurrying his pace through the

long, hot day, as would have been necessary in order to keep up with the other drivers.

For each team a strip of the brule was marked out to clear after the axes. The logs, brush, and stumps had to

be removed and dragged to the burningpiles. Aleck, with his active, invincible FrenchCanadians, Ranald

with Farquhar's big, sleek blacks, and Don with his father's team, worked side by side. A contest was

inevitable, and before an hour had passed Don and Aleck, while making a great show of deliberation, were

striving for the first place, with Aleck easily leading. Like a piece of machinery, Aleck and his team worked

together. Quickly and neatly both driver and horses moved about their work with perfect understanding of

each other. With hardly a touch of the lines, but almost entirely by word of command, Aleck guided his team.

And when he took up the whiffletrees to swing them around to a log or stump, his horses wheeled at once

into place. It was beautiful to see them, wheeling, backing, hauling, pulling, without loss of time or temper.

With Don and his team it was all hard work. His horses were willing and quick enough, but they were

illtrained and needed constant tugging at the lines. In vain Don shouted and cracked his whip, hurrying his

team to his pile and back again; the horses only grew more and more awkward, while they foamed and fretted

Behind came Ranald, still humoring his slowgoing team with easy hand and quiet voice. But while he

refrained from hurrying his horses, he himself worked hard, and by his good judgment and skill with the

chain, and in skidding the logs into his pile, in which his training in the shanty had made him more than a

When the cowbell sounded for dinner, Aleck's team stepped off for the barn, wet, but fresh and frisky as ever,

and in perfect heart. Don's horses appeared fretted and jaded, while Ranald brought in his blacks with their

glossy skins white with foam where the harness had chafed, but unfretted, and apparently as ready for work

"You have spoiled the shine of your team," said Aleck, looking over Ranald's horses as he brought them up to

the trough. "Better turn them out for the afternoon. They can't stand much more of that pace."

Aleck was evidently trying to be goodnatured, but he could not hide the sneer in his tone. They had neither

of them forgotten the incident at the church door, and both felt that it would not be closed until more had

been said about it. But today, Ranald was in the place of host, and it behooved him to be courteous, and

Aleck was in good humor with himself, for his team had easily led the field; and besides, he was engaged in a

kind and neighborly undertaking, and he was too much of a man to spoil it by any private grudge. He would

During the hour and a half allowed for dinner, Ranald took his horses to the well, washed off their legs,

removed their harness, and led them to a cool spot behind the barn, and there, while they munched their oats,

he gave them a good hard rubdown, so that when he brought them into the field again, his team looked as

As Ranald appeared on the field with his glossy blacks, Aleck glanced at the horses, and began to feel that, in

the contest for first place, it was Ranald he had to fear, with his cool, steady team, rather than Don. Not that

any suspicion crossed his mind that Farquhar McNaughton's sleek, slowgoing horses could ever hold their

own with his, but he made up his mind that Ranald, at least, was worth watching.

"Bring up your gentry," he called to Ranald, "if you are not too fine for common folks. Man, that team of

yours," he continued, "should never be put to work like this. Their feet should never be off pavement."

"Never you mind," said Ranald, quietly. "I am coming after you, and perhaps before night the blacks may

"There's lots of room," said Aleck, scornfully, and they both set to work with all the skill and strength that lay

For the first hour or two Ranald was contented to follow, letting his team take their way, but saving every

moment he could by his own efforts. So that, without fretting his horses in the least, or without moving them

perceptibly out of their ordinary gait, he found himself a little nearer to Aleck than he had been at noon; but

the heavy lifting and quick work began to tell upon him. His horses, he knew, would not stand very much

hurrying. They were too fat for any extra exertion in such heat, and so Ranald was about to resign himself to

defeat, when he observed that in the western sky clouds were coming up. At the same time a cool breeze

began to blow, and he took fresh heart. If he could hurry his team a little more, he might catch Aleck yet; so

he held his own a little longer, preserving the same steady pace, until the clouds from the west had covered

all the sky. Then gradually he began to quicken his horses' movements and to put them on heavier loads.

Wherever opportunity offered, instead of a single log, or at most two, he would take three or four for his load;

and in ways known only to horsemen, he began to stir up the spirit of his team, and to make them feel

To such good purpose did he plan, and so nobly did his team respond to his quiet but persistent pressure, that,

ere Aleck was aware, Ranald was up on his flank; and then they each knew that until the supperbell rang he

would have to use to the best advantage every moment of time and every ounce of strength in himself and his

Somehow the report of the contest went over the field, till at length it reached the ears of Farquhar. At once

the old man, seized with anxiety for his team, and moved by the fear of what Kirsty might say if the news

ever reached her ears, set off across the brule to remonstrate with Ranald, and if necessary, rescue his team

But Don saw him coming, and knowing that every moment was precious, and dreading lest the old man

would snatch from Ranald the victory which seemed to be at least possible for him, he arrested Farquhar with

a call for assistance with a big log, and then engaged him in conversation upon the merits of his splendid

"And look," cried he, admiringly, "how Ranald is handling them! Did you ever see the likes of that?"

The old man stood watching for a few moments, doubtfully enough, while Don continued pouring forth the

praises of his horses, and the latter, as he noticed Farquhar's eyes glisten with pride, ventured to hint that

before the day was done "he would make Aleck McRae and his team look sick. And without a hurt to the

blacks, too," he put in, diplomatically, "for Ranald is not the man to hurt a team." And as Farquhar stood and

watched Ranald at his work, and noted with surprise how briskly and cleverly the blacks swung into their

places, and detected also with his experienced eye that Aleck was beginning to show signs of hurry, he

entered into the spirit of the contest, and determined to allow his team to win victory for themselves and their

The ax men had finished their "stent." It wanted still an hour of suppertime, and surely if slowly, Ranald

was making toward first place. The other teams were left far behind with their work, and the whole field

began to center attention upon the two that were now confessedly engaged in desperate conflict at the front.

One by one the ax men drew toward the end of the field, where Ranald and Aleck were fighting out their

fight, all pretense of deliberation on the part of the drivers having by this time been dropped. They no longer

walked as they hitched their chains about the logs or stumps, but sprang with eager haste to their work. One

by one the other teamsters abandoned their teams and moved across the field to join the crowd already

gathered about the contestants. Among them came Macdonald Bhain, who had been working at the farthest

corner of the brule. As soon as he arrived upon the scene, and understood what was going on, he cried to

Ranald was about to stop, and indeed had checked his horses, when Aleck, whose blood was up, called out

tauntingly, "Aye, it would be better for him and his horses to stop. They need it bad enough."

This was too much for even Farquhar's sluggish blood. "Let them go, Ranald!" he cried. "Let them go, man!

It was just what Ranald needed to spur him ona taunt from his foe and leave from Farquhar to push his

Before each lay a fallen tree cut into lengths and two or three halfburned stumps. Ranald's tree was much

the bigger. A single length would have been an ordinary load for the blacks, but their driver felt that their

strength and spirit were both equal to much more than this. He determined to clear away the whole tree at a

single load. As soon as he heard Farquhar's voice, he seized hold of the whiffletrees, struck his team a sharp

blow with the lines their first blow that dayswung them round to the top of the tree, ran the chain

through its swivel, hooked an end round each of the top lengths, swung them in toward the butt, unhooked his

chain, gathered all three lengths into a single load, faced his horses toward the pile, and shouted at them. The

blacks, unused to this sort of treatment, were prancing with excitement, and when the word came they threw

themselves into their collars with a fierceness that nothing could check, and amid the admiring shouts of the

crowd, tore the logs through the black soil and landed them safely at the pile. It was the work of only a few

minutes to unhitch the chain, haul the logs, one by one, into place, and dash back with his team at the gallop

Ranald's first stump came out with little trouble, and was borne at full speed to the pile. The second stump

gave him more difficulty, and before it would yield he had to sever two or three of its thickest roots.

Together the teams swung round to their last stump. The excitement in the crowd was intense. Aleck's team

was moving swiftly and with the steadiness of clockwork. The blacks were frantic with excitement and hard

to control. Ranald's last stump was a pine of medium size, whose roots were partly burned away. It looked

Ranald thought he would try his first pull without the use of the ax. Quickly he backed up his team to the

stump, passed the chain round a root on the far side, drew the big hook far up the chain, hitched it so as to

give the shortest possible draught, threw the chain over the top of the stump to give it purchase, picked up his

lines, and called to his team. With a rush the blacks went at it. The chain slipped up on the root, tightened, bit

into the wood, and then the blacks flung back. Ranald swung them round the point and tried them again, but

All this time he could hear Aleck chopping furiously at his elm roots, and he knew that unless he had his

stump out before his rival had his chain hitched for the pull the victory was lost.

Once more Ranald picked up the lines, swung his horses round to the left, held them steady a moment or two,

and then with a yell sent them at their pull. Magnificently the blacks responded, furiously tearing up the

ground with their feet. A moment or two they hung straining on their chain, refusing to come back, when

But already Ranald had seen that this was necessary, and once more backed his team to readjust the chain

which had slipped off the top. As he fastened the hook he heard a sharp "Back!" behind him, and he knew

that the next moment Aleck's team would be away with their load. With a yell he sprang at his lines, lashed

the blacks over the back, and called to them once more. Again his team responded, and with a mighty heave,

the stump came slowly out, carrying with it what looked like half a ton of earth. But even as it heaved, he

heard Aleck's call and the answering crash, and before he could get his team agoing, the FrenchCanadians

were off for their pile at a gallop, with the lines flying in the air behind them. A moment later he followed,

Together he and Aleck reached the pile. It only remained now to unhook the chain. In vain he tugged and

hauled. The chain was buried deep beneath the stump and refused to move, and before he could swing his

But as he dropped his chain and was leisurely backing his horses, he heard old Farquhar cry, "Hurry, man!

Without waiting to inquire the reason, Ranald wheeled his team, gave the stump a half turn, released his

chain, and drove off from the pile, to find Aleck still busy hooking his chain to his whiffletree.

Aleck had had the same difficulty in freeing his chain as Ranald, but instead of trying to detach it from the

stump, he had unhooked the other end, and then, with a mighty backward jerk, had snatched it from the

stump. But before he could attach it to his place on the whiffletree again, Ranald stood ready for work.

"A win, lad! A win!" cried old Farquhar, more excited than he had been for years.

"No, no, lads," said Macdonald Bhain, before Farquhar could reply. "It is as even a match as could well be. It

But all the same, Ranald's friends were wildly enthusiastic over what they called his victory, and Don could

Aleck, on the other hand, while claiming the victory because his team was at the pile first, was not so sure of

it but that he was ready to fight with any one venturing to dispute his claim. But the men all laughed at him

"Yon lad will be making as good a man as yourself," said Farquhar, enthusiastically, to Macdonald Bhain, as

"Aye, and a better, pray God," said Macdonald Bhain, fervently, looking after Ranald with loving eyes. There

Meanwhile Don had hurried on, leaving his team with Murdie that he might sing Ranald's praises to "the

girls," with whom Ranald was highly popular, although he avoided them, or perhaps because he did so, the

To Mrs. Murray and Maimie, who with the minister and Hughie, had come over to the supper, he went first

with his tale. Graphically he depicted the struggle from its beginning to the last dramatic rush to the pile,

dilating upon Ranald's skill and pluck, and upon the wonderful and hitherto unknown virtues of Farquhar's

"You ought to see them!" cried Don. "You bet they never moved in their lives the way they did today. Tied

him!" he continued. "Tied him! Beat him, I say, but Macdonald Bhain says 'Tied him' Aleck McRae, who

Don forgot in his excitement that the McRaes and their friends were there in numbers.

"So he is," cried Annie Ross, one of Aleck's admirers. "There is not a man in the Indian Lands that can beat

But Annie only stuck out her lip at him in the inimitable female manner, and ran off to add to the mischief

But now the day's work was over, and the hour for the day's event had come, for supper was the great event to

which all things moved at bees. The long tables stood under the maple trees, spread with the richest, rarest,

deadliest dainties known to the housewives and maidens of the countryside. About the tables stood in groups

the whiteaproned girls, tucked and frilled, curled and ribboned into all degrees of bewitching loveliness. The

men hurried away with their teams, and then gave themselves to the serious duty of getting ready for supper,

using many pails of water in their efforts to remove the black from the burnt wood of the brule.

At length the women lost all patience with them, and sent Annie Ross, with two or three companions, to call

them to supper. With arms intertwined, and with much chattering and giggling, the girls made their way to

the group of men, some of whom were engaged in putting the finishing touches to their toilet.

"Supper is ready," cried Annie, "and long past ready. You need not be trying to fix yourselves up so fine. You

are just as bad as any girls. Oh!" Her speech ended in a shriek, which was echoed by the others, for Aleck

McRae rushed at them, stretching out his black hands toward them. But they were too quick for him, and fled

At length, when the last of the men had made themselves, as they thought, presentable, they began to make

their approach to the tables, slowly and shyly for the most part, each waiting for the other. Aleck McRae,

however, knew little of shyness, but walked past the different groups of girls, throwing on either hand a

Suddenly he came upon the group where the minister's wife and her niece were standing. Here, for the

moment, his ease forsook him, but Mrs. Murray came to meet him with outstretched hand.

"So you still retain your laurels?" she said, with a frank smile. "I hear it was a great battle."

Aleck shook hands with her rather awkwardly. He was not on the easiest terms with the minister and his wife.

"Oh, it was more than I expected myself," he said. "I didn't think it was in Farquhar's team."

He could not bring himself to give any credit to Ranald, and though Mrs. Murray saw this, she refused to

notice it. She was none the less anxious to win Aleck's confidence, because she was Ranald's friend.

Aleck looked into Maimie's face with such open admiration that she felt the blush come up in her cheeks.

"Indeed, she is worth knowing, but I don't think she will care to take such a hand as that," he said, stretching

out a hand still grimy in spite of much washing. But Maimie had learned something since coming to her aunt,

and she no longer judged men by the fit of their clothes, or the color of their skin, or the length of their hair;

and indeed, as she looked at Aleck, with his close buttoned smock, and overalls with the legs tucked neatly

into the tops of his boots, she thought he was the trimmest figure she had seen since coming to the country.

She took Aleck's hand and shook it warmly, the full admiration in his handsome black eyes setting her blood

tingling with that love of conquest that lies in every woman's heart. So she flung out her flag of war, and

"You have a fine team, I hear," she said, as her aunt moved away to greet some of the other men, who were

"It was very clever of Ranald to come so near beating you, wasn't it?" she said, innocently. "He must be a

"He drives pretty well," admitted Aleck. "He did nothing else all last winter in the shanties."

Aleck was not sure how to take this. "He does not think so," he answered, shortly. "He thinks he is no end of

"But he can drive, you say," continued Maimie, wickedly keeping her finger on the sore spot.

"Oh, pshaw!" replied Aleck, boldly. "You think a lot of him, don't you? And I guess you are a pair."

Maimie tossed her head at this. "We are very good friends, of course," she said, lightly. "He is a very nice

boy, and we are all fond of him; but he is just a boy; he is Hughie's great friend."

"A boy, is he?" laughed Aleck. "That may be, but he is very fond of you, whatever, and indeed, I don't

"What I said? About being fond of you? Indeed, I know all about that. The boys are all broke up, not to speak

This was going a little too fast for Maimie. She knew nothing, as yet, of the freedom of country banter. She

was new to the warfare, but she was not going to lower her flag or retreat. She changed the subject. "Your

"Tired!" exclaimed Aleck, "not a bit. They will go home like birds. Come along with me, and you will see."

Aleck turned about quickly and saw Ranald staring at Maimie. "Oh," he said, banteringly, "I see. You would

But Aleck only shrugged his shoulders and looked at Ranald, who passed on to his place at the table, black as

a thundercloud. Maimie was indignant at him. What right had he to stare and look so savage? She would

just show him. So she turned once more to Aleck, and with a gay laugh, cried, "Some day I will accept your

"Any day, or every day, and the more days the better," cried Aleck, as he sat down at the table, where all had

The supper was a great success. With much laughter and chaffing, the girls flitted from place to place,

pouring cups of tea and passing the various dishes, urging the men to eat, till, as Don said, they were "full to

When all had finished, Mr. Murray, who sat at the head of the table, rose in his place and said: "Gentlemen,

before we rise from this table, which has been spread so bountifully for us, I wish to return thanks on behalf

of Mr. Macdonald to the neighbors and friends who have gathered today to assist in this work. Mr.

Macdonald asked me to say that he is all the more surprised at this kindness, in that he feels himself to be so

unworthy of it. I promised to speak this word for him, but I do not agree with the sentiment. Mr. Macdonald

is a man whom we all love, and in whose misfortune we deeply sympathize, and I only hope that this

Providence may be greatly blessed to him, and that we will all come to know him better, and to see God's

The minister then, after some further remarks expressive of the good will of the neighbors for Mr.

Macdonald, and in appreciation of the kind spirit that prompted the bee, returned thanks, and the supper was

As the men were leaving the table, Aleck watched his opportunity and called to Maimie, when he was sure

And Maimie, who was more indignant at Ranald than ever because he had ignored all her advances at supper,

and had received her congratulations upon his victory with nothing more than a grunt, answered Aleck

"Remember!" cried Aleck; "then that will be every day until our ride comes off."

A few minutes later, as Ranald was hitching up Farquhar's team, Aleck passed by, and in great good humor

with himself, chaffingly called out to Ranald in the presence of a number of the men, "That's a fine girl

"What y're talkin' 'bout? That Lisette mare?" said Yankee, walking round to Ranald's side. "Purty slick beast,

Then in a low voice he said to Ranald, hurriedly, "Don't you mind him; don't you mind him. You can't touch

"What's that?" said Yankee, pretending not to hear. "Yes, you bet," he continued. "Ranald can handle her all

right. He knows something about horses, as I guess you have found out, perhaps, by this time. Never saw

anything so purty. Didn't know your team had got that move in them, Mr. McNaughton," Yankee went on to

"Indeed, they are none the worse of it," said Farquhar, rubbing his hands over the sleek sides of his horses.

"I don't know that. The hundred dollars ought to go upon the driver," said Farquhar, putting his hand kindly

But this Ranald warmly repudiated. "They are a great team," he said to Farquhar. "And they could do better

"Indeed, it would be difficult to get that," said Farquhar, "for, in my opinion, there is not a man in the country

This was too much for Aleck, who, having by this time got his horses hitched, mounted his wagon seat and

"Saved you that time, my boy," said Yankee to Ranald. "You would have made a fool of yourself in about

But Ranald was still too wrathful to be grateful for Yankee's help. "I will be even with him someday," he

"I guess you will have to learn two or three things first," said Yankee, slowly.

"Well, how to use your head, first place, and then how to use your hands. He is too heavy for you. He would

"Why, sartin sure," said Yankee, cheerfully. "You have got to lick him some day, or he won't be happy; and

By this time Farquhar had come back from saying good by to Macdonald Dubh and Mr. and Mrs. Murray,

"You will be a man yet," said Farquhar, shaking Ranald's hand. "You have got the patience and the

"Not much patience, I am afraid," said Ranald. "But I am glad you trusted me with your team."

"And any day you want them you can have them," said Farquhar, his reckless mood leading him to forget

"Thank you, sir," said Ranald, wondering what Kirsty would look like should he ever venture to claim

One by one the teams drove away with their loads, till only the minister and his party were left. Away under

the trees Mr. Murray was standing, earnestly talking to Macdonald Dubh. He had found the opportunity he

had long waited for and was making the most of it. Mrs. Murray was busy with Kirsty, and Maimie and

Hughie came toward the stable where Yankee and Ranald were still standing. As soon as Ranald saw them

approaching he said to Yankee, abruptly, "I am going to get the minister's horse," and disappeared into the

stable. Nor did he come forth again till he heard his father calling to him: "What is keeping you, Ranald? The

"So you won a great victory, Ranald, I hear," said the minister, as Ranald brought Black to the door.

"Oh, Ranald!" cried Hughie, "you beat him. Everybody says so. You had your chain hitched up and

"I hear it was a great exhibition, not only of skill, but of endurance and patience, Ranald," said the minister.

But Ranald made no reply, busying himself with Black's bridle. Mrs. Murray noticed his gloom and guessed

"We will see you at the Bible class, Ranald," she said, kindly, but still Ranald remained silent.

"Can you not speak, man?" said his father. "Do you not hear the minister's wife talking to you?"

"We will be glad to see you," said Mrs. Murray, offering him her hand. "And you might come in with Hughie

for a few minutes afterward," she continued, kindly, for she noted the misery in his face.

"And we will be glad to see you, too, Mr. Macdonald, if it would not be too much for you, and if you do not

"Indeed, I would be proud," said Macdonald Dubh, courteously, "as far as that is concerned, for I hear there

"I am sure Mrs. Murray will be glad to see you, Mr. Macdonald," said the minister.

"I will be thinking of it," said Macdonald Dubh, cautiously. "And you are both very kind, whatever," he said,

"Well, then, I will look for you both," said Mrs. Murray, as they were about to drive off, "so do not

"Good by," said Ranald, holding her hand for a moment and looking hard into her eyes, "and I hope you will

Then Maimie understood Ranald's savage manner, and as she thought it over she smiled to herself. She was

taking her first sips of that cup, to woman's lips the sweetest, and she found it not unpleasant. She had

succeeded in making one man happy and another miserable. But it was when she said to herself, "Poor

If Mrs. Murray was not surprised to see Macdonald Dubh and Yankee walk in on Sabbath evening and sit

down in the back seat, her class were. Indeed the appearance of these two men at the class was considered an

event so extraordinary as to give a decided shock to those who regularly attended, and their presence lent to

the meeting an unusual interest, and an undertone of excitement. To see Macdonald Dubh, whose attendance

at the regular Sabbath services was something unusual, present at a religious meeting which no one would

consider it a duty to attend, was enough in itself to excite surprise, but when Yankee came in and sat beside

him, the surprise was considerably intensified. For Yankee was considered to be quite outside the pale, and

indeed, in a way, incapable of religious impression. No one expected Yankee to be religious. He was not a

Presbyterian, knew nothing of the Shorter Catechism, not to speak of the Confession of Faith, and

consequently was woefully ignorant of the elements of Christian knowledge that were deemed necessary to

It was rumored that upon Yankee's first appearance in the country, some few years before, he had, in an

unguarded moment, acknowledged that his people had belonged to the Methodists, and that he himself

"leaned toward" that peculiar sect. Such a confession was in itself enough to stamp him, in the eyes of the

community, as one whose religious history must always be attended with more or less uncertainty. Few of

them had ever seen a Methodist in the flesh. There were said to be some at Moose Creek (Mooscrick, as it

was called), but they were known only by report. The younger and more untraveled portion of the community

It was no wonder, then, that Yankee's appearance in Bible class produced a sensation. It was an evening of

sensations, for not only were Macdonald Dubh and Yankee present, but Aleck McRae had driven up a load of

people from below the Sixteenth. Ranald regarded his presence with considerable contempt.

"It is not much he cares for the Bible class, whatever," he confided to Don, who was sitting beside him.

But more remarkable and disturbing to Ranald than the presence of Aleck McRae, was that of a young man

sitting between Hughie and Maimie in the minister's pew. He was evidently from the city. One could see that

from his fine clothes and his white shirt and collar. Ranald looked at him with deepening contempt. "Pride"

was written all over him. Not only did he wear fine clothes, and a white shirt and collar, but he wore them

without any sign of awkwardness or apology in his manner, and indeed as if he enjoyed them. But the

Ranald found himself wondering how the young fop would look sitting in a pool of muddy water. How

insufferable the young fellow's manners were! He sat quite close to Maimie, now and then whispering to her,

evidently quite ignorant of how to behave in church. And Maimie, who ought to know better, was acting

most disgracefully as well, whispering back and smiling right into his face. Ranald was thoroughly ashamed

of her. He could not deny that the young fellow was handsome, hatefully so, but he was evidently stuck full

of conceit, and as he let his eyes wander over the congregation assembled, with a bold and critical stare,

making remarks to Maimie in an undertone which could be heard over the church, Ranald felt his fingers

twitching. The young man was older than Ranald, but Ranald would have given a good deal for an

At this point Ranald's reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Murray rising to open the class.

"Will some one suggest a Psalm?" she asked, her cheek, usually pale, showing a slight color. It was always an

ordeal for her to face her class, ever since the men had been allowed to come, and the first moments were full

of trial to her. Only her conscience and her fine courage kept her from turning back from this, her path of

At once, from two or three came responses to her invitation, and a Psalm was chosen.

The singing was a distinct feature of the Bible class. There was nothing like it, not only in the other services

of the congregation, but in any congregation in the whole county. The young people that formed that Bible

class have long since grown into old men and women, but the echoes of that singing still reverberate through

the chambers of their hearts when they stand up to sing certain tunes or certain Psalms. Once a week, through

the long winter, they used to meet and sing to John "Aleck's" sounding beat for two or three hours. They

learned to sing, not only the old psalm tunes but psalm tunes never heard in the congregation before, as also

hymns and anthems. The anthems and hymns were, of course, never used in public worship. They were

reserved for the sacred concert which John "Aleck" gave once a year. It was in the Bible class that he and his

fellow enthusiasts found opportunity to sing their new Psalm tunes, with now and then a hymn. When John

"Aleck," a handsome, broadshouldered, sixfooter, stood up and bit his tuningfork to catch the pitch, the

people straightened up in their seats and prepared to follow his lead. And after his great resonant voice had

rolled out the first few notes of the tune, they caught him up with a vigor and enthusiasm that carried him

along, and inspired him to his mightiest efforts. Wonderful singing it was, full toned, rhythmical and well

With characteristic courage, the minister's wife had chosen Paul's Epistle to the Romans for the subject of

study, and tonight the lesson was the redoubtable ninth chapter, that arsenal for Calvinistic champions. First

the verses were repeated by the class in concert, and the members vied with each other in making this a

perfect exercise, then the teaching of the chapter was set forth in simple, lucid speech. The last half hour was

devoted to the discussion of questions, raised either by the teacher or by any member of the class. Tonight

the class was slow in asking questions. They were face to face with the tremendous Pauline Doctrine of

Sovereignty. It was significant that by Macdonald Dubh, his brother, and the other older and more

experienced members of the class, the doctrine was regarded as absolutely inevitable and was accepted

without question, while by Yankee and Ranald and all the younger members of the class, it was rejected with

fierce resentment. The older men had been taught by the experience of long and bitter years, that above all

their strength, however mighty, a power, resistless and often inscrutable, determined their lives. The younger

men, their hearts beating with conscious power and freedom, resented this control, or accepting it, refused to

assume the responsibility for the outcome of their lives. It was the old, old strife, the insoluble mystery; and

the minister's wife, far from making light of it, allowed its full weight to press in upon the members of her

class, and wisely left the question as the apostle leaves it, with a statement of the two great truths of

Sovereignty and Free Will without attempting the impossible task of harmonizing these into a perfect system.

After a halfhour of discussion, she brought the lesson to a close with a very short and very simple

presentation of the practical bearing of the great doctrine. And while the mystery remained unsolved, the

limpid clearness of her thought, the humble attitude of mind, the sympathy with doubt, and above all, the

sweet and tender pathos that filled her voice, sent the class away humbled, subdued, comforted, and willing to

wait the day of clearer light. Not that they were done with Pharaoh and his untoward fate; that occupied them

The class was closed with prayer and singing. As a kind of treat, the last singing was a hymn and they stood

up to sing it. It was Perronet's great hymn sung to old Coronation, and when they came to the refrain, "Crown

him Lord of all," the very rafters of the little church rang with the mighty volume of sound. The Bible class

always closed with a great outburst of singing, and as a rule, Ranald went out tingling and thrilling through

and through. But tonight, so deeply was he exercised with the unhappy doom of the unfortunate king of

Egypt, from which, apparently, there was no escape, fixed as it was by the Divine decree, and oppressed with

the feeling that the same decree would determine the course of his life, he missed his usual thrill. He was

walking off by himself in a perplexed and downcast mood, avoiding every one, even Don, and was nearly

past the minister's gate when Hughie, excited and breathless, caught up to him and exclaimed: "Oh, Ranald,

was not that splendid? Man, I like to hear John 'Aleck' sing 'Crown him' that way. And I say," he continued,

Then all at once Ranald remembered the young man who had behaved so disgracefully in church.

"Oh, pshaw! you must come," pleaded Hughie. "We will have some singing. I want you to sing bass. Perhaps

John 'Aleck' will come in." This was sheer guessing, but it was good bait. But the young man with "his head

split in the middle" would be there, and perhaps Maimie would be "going on," with him as she did in the

"You will tell your mother I could not come," he said. "Yankee and father are both out, and there will be no

"Well, I think you are pretty mean," said Hughie, grievously disappointed. "I wanted you to come in, and

"Yes; Maimie's brother came last night, you know, and Maimie is going back with him in two weeks."

"Indeed he looks it, I am sure," Ranald said, with sudden enthusiasm; "I would just like to know him. If I

"Oh, pshaw! Of course Yankee will milk the cows," exclaimed Hughie. "Come on, come on in. And Ranald

"Here is Ranald!" called Hughie at the top of his voice, as he entered the room where the family were

"You don't say so, Hughie?" answered his cousin, coming forward. "You ought to make that fact known. We

Ranald liked him from the first. He was not a bit "proud" in spite of his fine clothes and his head being "split

"You're the chap," he said, stretching out his hand to Ranald, "that snatched Maimie from the fire. Mighty

clever thing to do. We have heard a lot about you at our house. Why, every week"

"Let some one else talk, Harry," interrupted Maimie, with cheeks flaming. "We are going to have some

"Why, yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Murray. "I was glad to see your father there tonight," she said to

"Hush, Hughie; you must call people by their right names. Now let us have some singing. I hear Ranald is

"And bully good bass, too," cried Hughie. "John 'Aleck' says that it's the finest bass in the whole singing

"Well, Hughie," said his mother, quietly, "I don't think it is necessary to shout even such pleasant information

She lay back in the big chair, looking so pale and weary that Harry hardly believed it was the same woman

that had just been keeping a hundred and fifty people keenly alert for an hour and a half, and leading them

"That class is too hard for you, auntie," he said. "If I were your husband I would not let you keep it on."

"Oh!" cried Hughie, "I would much rather teach the Bible class than listen to another sermon."

"Something in that," said his cousin, "especially if I were the preacher, eh?" at which they all laughed.

It was a happy hour for Ranald. He had been too shy to join the singing school, and had never heard any part

singing till he began to attend the Bible class. There he made the delightful discovery that, without any

instruction, he could join in the bass, and had made, also, the further discovery that his voice, which he had

thought rough and coarse, and for a year past, worse than ever, could reach to extraordinary depths. One

Sabbath evening, it chanced that John "Aleck," who always had an ear open for a good voice, heard him

rolling out his deep bass, and seizing him on the spot, had made him promise to join the singing school.

There he discovered a talent and developed a taste for singing that delighted his leader's heart, and opened out

to himself a new world. The piano, too, was a new and rare treat to Ranald. In all the country there was no

other, and even in the manse it was seldom heard, for Mrs. Murray found little time, amid the multitude of

household and congregational duties, to keep up her piano practice. That part of her life, with others of like

But since Maimie's coming, the piano had been in daily use, and even on the Sabbath days, though not

without danger to the sensibilities of the neighbors, she had used it to accompany the hymns with which the

"Let us have the parts," cried Hughie. "Maimie and I will take the air, and Ranald will take the bass. Cousin

"Oh, that's fine!" cried Hughie, with delight. He himself was full of music. "Come on, Ranald, you stand up

behind Maimie, you will need to see the notes; and I will sit here," planting himself beside his mother.

So Hughie arranged it all, and for an hour the singing went on, the favorite hymns of each being sung in turn.

For the most part, Mrs. Murray sat silent, but now and then she would join with the others, singing alto when

she did so, by Hughie's special direction. Her voice was not strong, but it was true, mellow, and full of music.

Hughie loved to hear her sing alto, and more especially because he liked to join in with her, which he was too

shy to do alone, even in his home, and which he would never think of doing in the Bible class, or in the

presence of any of the boys who might, for this reason, think him "proud." When they came to Hughie's turn,

he chose the hymn by Bliss, recently published, "Whosoever will," the words seem to strike him tonight.

"Mother," he said, after singing it through, "does that mean everybody that likes?"

"I hope I did not say that," said his mother, smiling at the eager and earnest young face.

"No, auntie," said Harry, taking up Hughie's cause, "not exactly, but something very like it. You said that

"The Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart," quoted Ranald, who knew his Bible better than Harry.

"Yes, that is it," said Harry, "and so that made it impossible for Pharaoh to do anything else. He could not

"Why not?" said Mrs. Murray. "What made him follow? Now just think, what made him follow after those

"If he had been a different man, more humble minded, and more willing to be taught, he would not have

"Mother," said Hughie, changing his ground a little, and lowering his voice, "do you think Pharaoh is lost,

Mrs. Murray looked at him in silence for a few moments, then said, very sadly, "I can't answer that question,

"Yes, Hughie," replied his mother, "all those who do not repent of their sins and cry to God for mercy."

"Listen to me, Hughie," said his mother, very gently. "We know very little about this. Would you be very

"Oh, mother," cried Hughie, his tender little heart moved with a great compassion, "think of a whole year, all

"Then, Hughie, dear," said his mother, "remember that God is much kinder than you are, and has a heart far

more tender, and while He will be just and must punish sin, He will do nothing unjust or unkind, you may be

Poor Hughie could bear it no longer. He put his head in his mother's lap and sobbed out, "Oh, mother, I hope

As he uttered this pitiful little cry, his cousin Harry got up from his chair, and moved across to the window,

while Maimie openly wiped her eyes, but Ranald sat with his face set hard, and his eyes gleaming, waiting

The mother stroked Hughie's head softly, and while her tears fell on the brown curls, said to him, "You would

not be afraid to trust your mother, Hughie, and our Father in heaven loves us all much more than I love you."

"Now let us sing one more hymn," said his mother. "It's my choice." And she chose one of the new hymns

which they had just learned in the singing school, and of which Hughie was very fond, the children's hymn,

"Come to the Saviour." While they were singing they heard Mr. Murray drive into the yard.

"There's papa," said Mrs. Murray. "He will be tired and hungry," and she hurried out to meet her husband,

followed by Harry and Hughie, leaving Ranald and Maimie in the room together. Ranald had never been

alone with her before, nor indeed had he ever spent five minutes of his life alone with any girl before now.

But he did not feel awkward or shy; he was thinking now, as he had been thinking now and then through the

whole evening, of only one thing, that Maimie was going away. That would make a great difference to him,

so great that he was conscious of a heartsinking at the mere thought of it. During the last weeks, his life had

come to move about a center, and that center was Maimie; and now that she was going away, there would be

nothing left. Nothing, that is, that really mattered. But the question he was revolving in his mind was, would

she forget all about him. He knew he would never forget her, that was, of course, impossible, for so many

things would remind him of her. He would never see the moonlight falling through the trees as it fell that

night of the sugaringoff, without thinking of her. He would never see the shadows in the evening, or hear

the wind in the leaves, without thinking of her. The church and the minister's pew, the manse and all

belonging to it would remind him of Maimie. He would recall how she looked at different times and places,

the turn of her head, the way her hair fell on her neck, her laugh, the little toss of her chin, and the curve in

her lips. He would remember everything about her. Would she remember him, or would she forget him? That

was the question burning in his heart; and that question he must have settled, and this was the time.

But though these thoughts and emotions were rushing through his brain and blood, he felt strangely quiet and

selfcontrolled as he walked over to her where she stood beside the piano, and looking into her eyes with an

intensity of gaze she could not meet, said, in a low, quick voice: "You are going away?"

"Yes," she replied, so startled that the easy smile with which she had greeted him faded out of her face. "In

"Gone!" echoed Ranald. "Yes, you will be gone. Will you forget me?" His tone was almost stern.

"Why, no," she said, in a surprised voice. "Of course not. Did not you save my life? You will be far more

"No," he said, simply, as if that possibility need not be considered. "I will never forget you. I will always be

"Ungrateful!" exclaimed Ranald, impatiently. "What I did was nothing. Forget that. Do you not understand

me? I will be thinking of you every day, in the morning and at night, and I never thought of any one else

There was a movement in the kitchen, and they could hear the minister talking to Harry; and some one was

"Tell me, Maimie, quick," said Ranald, and though his voice was intense and stern, there was appeal in it as

She took a step nearer him, and looking up into his face, said, in a whisper, "Yes, Ranald, I will always

Swiftly, almost fiercely, he threw his arms about her, and kissed her lips, then he stood back looking at her.

"Yes, you made me. I could not help it," he repeated. "And I do not care if you are angry. I am glad I did it."

She made no reply. The door opened behind them. She sank down upon the pianostool and let her hands fall

With her head low down, while she struck the chords of the hymn they had just sung, she said, hesitatingly, "I

Then Mrs. Murray came in. "Won't you stay for supper, Ranald? You must be hungry."

He shook hands with an ease and freedom that the minister had never seen in him, and went out.

"That young man is coming on," said the minister. "I never saw any one change and develop as he has in the

last few months. Let me see. He is only eighteen, isn't he, and he might be twentyone." The minister spoke

But little did Ranald care. That young man was striding homeward through the night, his head striking the

stars. His path lay through the woods, and when he came to the "sugar camp" road, he stood still, and let the

memories of the night when he had snatched Maimie from the fire troop through his mind. Suddenly he

"Poor Aleck," he said. Aleck seemed so harmless to him now. And then he stood silent, motionless, looking

straight toward the stars, but seeing them not. He was remembering Maimie's face when she said, "Yes,

Ranald, I will always remember you and think of you"; and then the thought of what followed, sent the blood

"She will not forget," he said aloud, and went on his way. It was his happy night, the happiest of his life thus

Those last days of Maimie's visit sped by on winged feet. To Ranald they were brimming with happiness,

every one of them. It was the slack time of the year, between seeding and harvest, and there was nothing

much to keep him at home. And so, with Harry, his devoted companion, Ranald roamed the woods, hitching

up Lisette in Yankee's buckboard, put her through her paces, and would now and then get up such bursts of

speed as took Harry's breath away; and more than all, there was the chance of a word with Maimie. He had

lost much of his awkwardness. He went about with an air of mastery, and why not? He had entered upon his

kingdom. The minister noticed and wondered; his wife noticed and smiled sometimes, but oftener sighed,

wisely keeping silence, for she knew that in times like this the best words were those unspoken.

The happiest day of all for Ranald was the last, when, after a long tramp with Harry through the woods, he

drove him back to the manse, coming up from the gate to the door like a whirlwind.

As Lisette stood pawing and tossing her beautiful head, Mrs. Murray, who stood with Maimie watching them

"Isn't she!" cried Harry, enthusiastically. "And such a flyer! Get in, auntie, and see."

"You go, Maimie," said her aunt, to whom every offered pleasure simply furnished an opportunity of thought

"Nonsense!" cried Harry, impatiently. "You might gratify yourself a little for once in your life. Besides," he

added, with true brotherly blindness, "it's you Ranald wants. At least he talks enough about you."

"Yes, auntie, do go! It will be lovely," chimed in Maimie, with suspicious heartiness.

So, with many protestations, Mrs. Murray took her place beside Ranald and was whirled off like the wind.

She returned in a very few minutes, her hair blown loose till the little curls hung about her glowing face and

"Oh, she is perfectly splendid!" she exclaimed. "And so gentle. You must go, Maimie, if only to the gate."

For a mile down the concession road Ranald let Lisette jog at an easy pace while he told Maimie some of his

aims and hopes. He did not mean to be a farmer nor a lumberman. He was going to the city, and there make

his fortune. He did not say it in words, but his tone, his manner, everything about him, proclaimed his

confidence that some day he would be a great man. And Maimie believed him, not because it seemed

reasonable, or because there seemed to be any ground for his confidence, but just because Ranald said it. His

"I do not know," he said. "I cannot tell, but it does not matter much. I will be always seeing you."

"Yes," said Ranald, "I know you will," as if that were a thing to be expected. "But you will be coming back to

"Oh, yes, you will come," he said, confidently; "I am sure you will come. Harry is coming, and you will

come, too." And having settled this point, he turned Lisette and from that out gave his attention to his driving.

The colt seemed to realize the necessity of making a display of her best speed, and without any urging, she

went along the concession road, increasing her speed at every stride till she wheeled in at the gate. Then

Ranald shook the lines over her back and called to her. Magnificently Lisette responded, and swept up to the

door with such splendid dash that the whole household greeted her with waving applause. As the colt came to

a stand, Maimie stepped out from the buckboard, and turning toward Ranald, said in a low, hurried voice: "O,

"I will come," said Ranald, looking down into the blue eyes with a look so long and steady and so full of

Then farewells were said, and Ranald turned away, Harry and Mrs. Murray watching him from the door till

"Well, that's the finest chap I ever saw," said Harry, with emphasis. "And what a body he has! He would

"Poor Ranald! I hope he will make a great and good man," said his aunt, with a ring of sadness in her voice.

"I'm sure I do not know," she said, with a very uncertain smile playing about her mouth. Then she went

upstairs and found Maimie sitting at the window overlooking the church hill, and once more she knew how

"It will be a very early start, Maimie," she said, "and so we will get everything ready tonight."

"Yes, auntie," said Maimie, going to her and putting her arms about her. "How happy I have been, and how

"Oh, I will never forget you! You have taught me so much that I never knew before. I see everything so

differently. It seems easy to be good here, and, oh! I wish you were not so far away from me, auntie. I am

The tears could no longer be denied. She put her head in her aunt's lap and sobbed out her heart's overflow.

For an hour they sat by the open trunk, forgetting all about the packing, while her aunt talked to Maimie as no

one had ever talked to her before; and often, through the long years of suffering that followed, the words of

that evening came to Maimie to lighten and to comfort an hour of fear and sorrow. Mrs. Murray was of those

to whom it is given to speak words that will not die with time, but will live, for that they fall from lips

Before they had finished their talk Harry came in, and then Mrs. Murray told them about their mother, of her

"She was a dear, dear girl," said their aunt, "and her goodness was of the kind that makes one think of a fresh

spring morning, so bright, so sweet, and pure. And she was beautiful, too. You will be like her, Maimie," and,

after a pause, she added, softly, "And, most of all, she loved her Saviour, and that was the secret of both her

"Auntie," said Harry, suddenly, "don't you think you could come to us for a visit? It would do fatherI mean

Mrs. Murray thought of her home and all its ties, and then said, smiling: "I am afraid, Harry, that could hardly

be. Besides, my dear boy, there is One who can always be with you, and no one can take His place."

"All the same, I wish you could come," said Harry. "When I am here I feel like doing something with my life,

"But, Harry," said his aunt, "life is a very sacred and very precious thing, and at all costs, you must make it

Next morning, when Harry was saying "Farewell" to his aunt, she put her arms round him, and said: "Your

mother would have wished you to be a noble man, and you must not disappoint her."

For the next few weeks the minister and his wife were both busy and anxious. For more than eight years they

had labored with their people without much sign of result. Week after week the minister poured into his

sermons the strength of his heart and mind, and then gave them to his people with all the fervor of his nature.

Week after week his wife, in her women's meetings and in her Bible class, lavished freely upon them the

splendid riches of her intellectual and spiritual powers, and together in the homes of the people they wrought

and taught. At times it seemed to the minister that they were spending their strength for naught, and at such

times he bitterly grudged, not his own toils, but those of his wife. None knew better than he how well fitted

she was, both by the native endowments of her mind and by the graces of her character, to fill the highest

sphere, and he sometimes grew impatient that she should spend herself without stint and reap no adequate

These were his thoughts as he lay on his couch, on the evening of the last Sabbath in the old church, after a

day's work more than usually exhausting. The new church was to be opened the following week. For months

it had been the burden of their prayers that at the dedication of their church, which had been built and paid for

at the cost of much thought and toil, there should be some "signal mark of the divine acceptance." No wonder

"There is not much sign of movement among the dry bones," he said to his wife. "They are as dry and as dead

His wife was silent for some time, for she, too, had her moments of doubt and fear, but she said: "I think there

is some sign. The people were certainly much impressed this morning, and the Bible class was very large, and

"So they are every day," said the minister, rather bitterly. "But what does it amount to? There is not a sign of

one of these young people 'coming forward.' Just think, only one young man a member of the church, and he

hasn't got much spunk in him. And many of the older men remain as hard as the nether millstone."

"I really think," said his wife, "that a number of the young people would 'come forward' if some one would

"So you always say," said her husband, with a touch of impatience; "but there is no shyness in other things, in

their frolics and their fightings. I am sure this last outrageous business is enough to break one's heart."

"Oh, I suppose you will hear soon enough, so I need not try to keep it from you. It was Long John Cameron

told me. It is strange that Hughie has not heard. Indeed, perhaps he has, but since his beloved Ranald is

"Oh, nothing less than a regular pitched battle between the McGregors and the McRaes of the Sixteenth, and

Mrs. Murray sat in silent and bitter disappointment. She had expected much from Ranald. Her husband went

"It seems there was an old quarrel between young Aleck McRae and Ranald, over what I cannot find out; and

young Angus McGregor, who will do anything for a Macdonald, must needs take Ranald's part, with the

result that that hotheaded young fireeater Aleck McRae must challenge the whole clan McGregor. So it

was arranged, on Sunday morning, too, mind you, two weeks ago, after the service, that six of the best of

each side should meet and settle the business. Of course Ranald was bound to be into it, and begged and

pleaded with the McGregors that he should be one of the six; and I hear it was by Yankee's advice that his

request was granted. That godless fellow, it seems, has been giving Ranald daily lessons with the

boxinggloves, and to some purpose, too, as the fight proved. It seems that young Aleck McRae, who is a

terrible fighter, and must be forty pounds heavier than Ranald, was, by Ranald's especial desire and by

Yankee's arrangement, pitted against the boy, and by the time the fight was over, Ranald, although beaten and

bruised to a 'bloody pulp,' as Long John said, had Aleck thoroughly whipped. And nobody knows what would

have happened, so fierce was the young villain, had not Peter McGregor and Macdonald Bhain appeared

upon the scene. It appears Aleck had been saying something about Maimie, Long John did not know what it

was; but Ranald was determined to finish Aleck up there and then. It must have been a disgusting and terrible

sight; but Macdonald Bhain apparently settled them in a hurry; and what is more, made them all shake hands

and promise to drop the quarrel thenceforth. I fancy Ranald's handling of young Aleck McRae did more to

bring about the settlement than anything else. What a lot of savages they are!" continued the minister. "It

"We must not say that, my dear," said his wife, but her tone was none too hopeful. "I must confess I am

From Hughie, who had had the story from Don, and who had been pledged to say nothing of it, she learned

"It was Aleck's fault, mother," he said, anxious to screen his hero. "He said something about Maimie, that

Don wouldn't tell me, at the blacksmith shop in the Sixteenth, and Ranald struck him and knocked him flat,

and he could not get up for a long time. Yankee has been showing him how. I am going to learn, mother,"

interjected Hughie. "And then Angus McGregor took Ranald's part, and it was all arranged after church, and

Ranald was bound to be in it, and said he would stop the whole thing if not allowed. Don said he was just

terrible. It was an awful fight. Angus McGregor fought Peter McRae, Aleck's brother, you know and"

"Never mind, Hughie," said his mother. "I don't want to hear of it. It is too disgusting. Was Ranald much

"Oh, he was hurt awful bad, and he was going to be licked, too. He wouldn't keep cool enough, and he

"That's what Don says, and Yankee made him. Yankee kept calling to him, 'Now get away, get away from

him! Use your legs! Get away from him!' and whenever Ranald began to do as he was told, then he got the

better of Aleck, and he gave Aleck a terrible hammering, and Don said if Macdonald Bhain had not stopped

them Aleck McRae would not have been able to walk home. He said Ranald was awful. He said he never saw

"Fine, Hughie!" said his mother. "It is anything but fine. It is simply disgusting to see men act like beasts. It

"But, mother, Ranald couldn't help it. And anyway, I am glad he gave that Aleck McRae a good thrashing.

"You must not repeat what Yankee says," said his mother. "I am afraid his influence is not of the best for any

"Oh, mother, he didn't set them on," said Hughie, who wanted to be fair to Yankee. "It was when he could not

"I am very, very sorry about it," said his mother, sadly. It was a greater disappointment to her than she cared

But the commotion caused in the community by the fight was soon swallowed up in the interest aroused by

the opening of the new church, an event for which they had made long and elaborate preparation. The big

bazaar, for which the women had been sewing for a year or more, was held on Wednesday, and turned out to

be a great success, sufficient money being realized to pay for the church furnishing, which they had

The day following was the first of the "Communion Season." In a Highland congregation the Communion

Seasons are the great occasions of the year. For weeks before, the congregation is kept in mind of the

approaching event, and on the Thursday of the communion week the season opens with a solemn fast day.

The annual Fast Day, still a national institution in Scotland, although it has lost much of its solemnity and

sacredness in some places, was originally associated with the Lord's Supper, and was observed with great

strictness in the matter of eating and drinking; and in Indian Lands, as in all congregations of that part of the

country, the custom of celebrating the Fast Day was kept up. It was a day of great solemnity in the homes of

the people of a godly sort. There was no cooking of meals till after "the services," and indeed, some of them

tasted neither meat nor drink the whole day long. To the younger people of the congregation it was a day of

gloom and terror, a kind of day of doom. Even to those advanced in godliness it brought searchings of heart,

minute and diligent, with agonies of penitence and remorse. It was a day, in short, in which conscience was

invited to take command of the memory and the imagination to the scourging of the soul for the soul's good.

The sermon for the day was supposed to stimulate and to aid conscience in this work.

For the communion service Mr. Murray always made it a point to have the assistance of the best preachers he

could procure, and on this occasion, when the church opening was combined with the sacrament, by a special

effort two preachers had been procureda famous divine from Huron County, that stronghold of Calvinism,

and a college professor who had been recently appointed, but who had already gained a reputation as a

doctrinal preacher, and who was, as Peter McRae reported, "grand on the Attributes and terrible fine on the

Law." To him was assigned the honor of preaching the Fast Day sermon, and of declaring the church "open."

The new church was very different from the old. Instead of the high crow's nest, with the wonderful

soundingboard over it, the pulpit was simply a raised platform partly inclosed, with the desk in front. There

was no precentor's box, over the loss of which Straight Rory did not grieve unduly, inasmuch as the singing

was to be led, in the English at least, by John "Aleck." Henceforth the elders would sit with their families.

The elders' seat was gone; Peter McRae's wrath at this being somewhat appeased by his securing for himself

one of the short side seats at the right of the pulpit, from which he could command a view of both the

minister and the congregationa position with obvious advantages. The minister's pew was at the very back

It was a great assemblage that gathered in the new church to hear the professor discourse, as doubtless he

would, it being the Fast Day, upon some theme of judgment. With a great swing of triumph in his voice, Mr.

Murray rose and announced the Hundredth Psalm. An electric thrill went through the congregation as, with a

Never did John "Aleck" and the congregation of Indian Lands sing as they did that morning. It was the first

time that the congregation, as a whole, had followed the lead of that great ringing voice, and they followed

"What's the matter, mother?" whispered Hughie, who was standing up in the seat that he might look on his

"Nothing, darling," said his mother, her face radiant through her tears. After long months of toil and waiting,

When the professor arose, it was an eager, responsive congregation that waited for his word. The people were

fully prepared for a sermon that would shake them to their souls' depths. The younger portion shivered and

shrank from the ordeal; the older and more experienced shivered and waited with not unpleasing

anticipations; it did them good, that remorseless examination of their hearts' secret depravities. To some it

was a kind of satisfaction offered to conscience, after which they could more easily come to peace. With

others it was an honest, heroic effort to know themselves and to right themselves with their God.

The text was disappointing. "Above all these things, put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness," read

the professor from that exquisite and touching passage which begins at the twelfth verse of the fifteenth

chapter of Colossians. "Love, the bond of perfectness," was his theme, and in simple, calm, lucid speech he

dilated upon the beauty, the excellence, and the supremacy of this Christian grace. It was the most Godlike of

all the virtues, for God was love; and more than zeal, more than knowledge, more than faith, it was "the

Peter McRae was evidently keenly disappointed, and his whole bearing expressed stern disapproval. And as

the professor proceeded, extolling and illustrating the supreme grace of love, Peter's hard face grew harder

than ever, and his eyes began to emit blue sparks of fire. This was no day for the preaching of smooth things.

The people were there to consider and to lament their Original and Actual sin; and they expected and required

to hear of the judgments of the Lord, and to be summoned to flee from the wrath to come.

Donald Ross sat with his kindly old face in a glow of delight, but with a look of perplexity on it which his

furtive glances in Peter's direction did not help to lessen. The sermon was delighting and touching him, but he

was not quite sure whether this was a good sign in him or no. He set himself now and then to find fault with

the sermon, but the preacher was so humble, so respectful, and above all, so earnest, that Donald Ross could

The application came under the third head. As a rule, the application to a Fast Day sermon was delivered in

terrifying tones of thunder or in an awful whisper. But today the preacher, without raising his voice, began

"This is a day for selfexamination," he said, and his clear, quiet tones fell into the ears of the people with

penetrating power. "And selfexamination is a wise and profitable exercise. It is an exercise of the soul

designed to yield a discovery of sin in the heart and life, and to induce penitence and contrition and so secure

pardon and peace. But too often, my friends," and here his voice became a shade softer, "it results in a

selfrighteous and sinful selfcomplaisance. What is required is a simple honesty of mind and spiritual

illumination, and the latter cannot be without the former. There are those who are ever searching for 'the

marks' of a genuinely godly state of heart, and they have the idea that these marks are obscure and difficult

for plain people to discover. Make no mistake, my brethren, they are as easily seen as are the apples on a tree.

The fruits of the spirit are as discernible to any one honest enough and fearless enough to look; and the first

and supreme of all is that which we have been considering this morning. The question for you and for me, my

brethren, is simply this: Are our lives full of the grace of love? Do not shrink from the question. Do not

deceive yourselves with any substitutes; there are many offering zeal, the gift of prayer or of speech, yea, the

gift of faith itself. None of these will atone for the lack of love. Let each ask himself, Am I a loving man?"

With quiet persistence he pursued them into all their relations in lifehusbands and wives, fathers and sons,

neighbor and neighbor. He would not let them escape. Relentlessly he forced them to review their habits of

speech and action, their attitude toward each other as church members, and their attitude toward "those

without." Behind all refuges and through all subterfuges he made his message follow them, searching their

deepest hearts. And then, with his face illumined as with divine fire, he made his final appeal, while he

reminded them of the Infinite love that had stooped to save, and that had wrought itself out in the agonies of

the cross. And while he spoke his last words, all over the church the women were weeping, and strong men

After a short prayer, the professor sat down. Then the minister rose, and for some little time stood facing his

people in silence, the gleam in his eyes showing that his fervent Highland nature was on fire.

"My people," he began, and his magnificent voice pealed forth like a solemn bell, "this is the message of the

Lord. Let none dare refuse to hear. It is a message to your minister, it is a message to you. You are anxious

for 'the marks.' Search you for this mark." He paused while the people sat looking at him in fixed and

breathless silence. Then, suddenly, he broke forth into a loud cry: "Where are your children at this solemn

time of privilege? Fathers, where are your sons? Why were they not with you at the Table? Are you men of

love? Are you men of love, or by lack of love are you shutting the door of the Kingdom against your sons

with their fightings and their quarrelings?" Then, raising his hands high, he lifted his voice in a kind of

wailing chant: "Woe unto you! Woe unto you! Your house is left unto you desolate, and the voice of love is

crying over you. Ye would not! Ye would not! O, Lamb of God, have mercy upon us! O, Christ, with the

pierced hands, save us!" Again he paused, looking upward, while the people waited with uplifted white faces.

"Behold," he cried, in a soulthrilling voice, "I see heaven open, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God,

and I hear a voice, 'Turn ye, turn ye. Why will ye die?' Lord Jesus, they will not turn." Again he paused.

"Listen. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire. Depart ye! Nay, Lord Jesus! not so! Have mercy

upon us!" His voice broke in its passionate cry. The effect was overwhelming. The people swayed as trees

before a mighty wind, and a voice cried aloud from the congregation: "God be merciful to me, a sinner!"

It was Macdonald Dubh. At that loud cry, women began to sob, and some of the people rose from their seats.

"Be still," commanded the minister. "Rend your hearts and not your garments. Let us pray." And as he

prayed, the cries and sobs subsided and a great calm fell upon all. After prayer, the minister, instead of giving

out a closing psalm, solemnly charged the people to go to their homes and to consider that the Lord had come

very near them, and adjured them not to grieve the Holy Spirit of God. Then he dismissed them with the

The people went out of the church, subdued and astonished, speaking, if at all, in low tones of what they had

Immediately after pronouncing the benediction, the minister came down to find Macdonald Dubh, but he was

nowhere to be seen. Toward evening Mrs. Murray rode over to his house, but found that he had not returned

"He will be at his brother's," said Kirsty, "and Ranald will drive over for him."

Immediately Ranald hitched up Lisette and drove over to his uncle's, but as he was returning he sent in word

to the manse, his face being not yet presentable, that his father was nowhere to be found. It was Macdonald

Bhain that found him at last in the woods, prone upon his face, and in an agony.

"Hugh, man," he cried, "what ails you?" But there were only low groans for answer.

Then from the prostrate figure he caught the words, "Depart from me! Depart from me! That is the word of

"That is not the word," said Macdonald Bhain, "for any living man, but for the dead. But come, rise, man; the

And so his brother brought him home, shaken in spirit and exhausted in body with his long fast and his

overpowering emotion. All night through his brother watched with him alone, for Macdonald Dubh would

have no one else to see him, till, from utter exhaustion, toward the dawning of the day, he fell asleep.

In the early morning the minister and his wife drove over to see him, and leaving his wife with Kirsty, the

minister passed at once into Macdonald Dubh's room. But, in spite of all his reasoning, in spite of all his

readings and his prayers, the gloom remained unbroken except by occasional paroxysms of fear and remorse.

In vain the minister proclaimed to him the mercy of God. At length he was forced to leave him to attend the

"Question Meeting" which was to be held in the church that day. But he left his wife behind him.

Without a word, Mrs. Murray proceeded to make the poor man comfortable. She prepared a dainty breakfast

and carried it in to him, and then she sat beside him while he fell into a deep sleep.

It was afternoon when Macdonald Dubh awoke and greeted her with his wonted grave courtesy.

"You are better, Mr. Macdonald," she said, brightly. "And now I will make you a fresh cup of tea"; and

though he protested, she hurried out, and in a few moments brought him some tea and toast. Then, while he

lay in gloomy silence, she read to him, as she did once before from his Gaelic psalm book, without a word of

comment. And then she began to tell him of all the hopes she had cherished in connection with the opening of

"And, O, Mr. Macdonald," she said, "I was glad to hear you cry, for then I knew that the Spirit of God was

"Yes, glad. For a cry like that never comes but when the Spirit of God moves in the heart of a man."

"Indeed, I will be thinking that He has cast me off forever," he said, wondering at this new phase of the

"Then you must thank Him, Mr. Macdonald, that He has not so done; and the sure proof to you is that He has

brought you to cry for mercy. That is a glad cry, in the ears of the Saviour. It is the cry of the sheep in the

wilderness, that discovers him to the shepherd." And then, without argument, she took him into her

confidence and poured out to him all her hopes and fears for the young people of the congregation, and

especially for Ranald, till Macdonald Dubh partly forgot his own fears in hers. And then, just before it was

time for Kirsty to arrive from the "Question Meeting," she took her Gaelic Bible and opened at the Lord's

"It is a terrible thing to be unforgiven, Mr. Macdonald," she said, "by man or by God. And God is unwilling

that any of us should feel that pain, and that is why he is so free with his offer of pardon to all who come with

sorrow to him. They come with sorrow to him now, but they will come to him some day with great joy." And

then she spoke a little of the great company of the forgiven before the throne, and at the very last, a few

words about the gentle little woman that had passed out from Macdonald Dubh's sight so many years before.

Earnestly and brokenly Macdonald Dubh followed, whispering the petitions after her. When they came to

Macdonald Dubh broke forth: "Oh, it is a little thing, whatever! It is little I have to forgive." And then, in a

Then Mrs. Murray rose, and taking him by the hand to bid him good by, she said, slowly: "'For if ye forgive

men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you your trespasses.' You have forgiven, Mr.

"Then," replied Mrs. Murray, "the Lord will not break his promise to you." And with that she went away.

On Saturday morning the session met before the service for the day. In the midst of their deliberations the

door opened and Macdonald Bhain and his brother, Macdonald Dubh, walked in and stood silent before the

elders. Mr. Murray rose astonished, and coming forward, said to Macdonald Bhain: "What is it, Mr.

"I am here," he said, "for my own sake and for my brother's. We wish to make confession of our sins, in that

The minister stood and gazed at him in amazed silence for some moments, and then, giving his hand to

Macdonald Dubh, he said, in a voice husky with emotion: "Come away, my brother. The Lord has a welcome

And there were no questions that day asked in the session before Macdonald Dubh received his token.

The first communion in the new church was marked by very great solemnity. There were few new members,

but among the older men who had hitherto kept "back from the table" there was a manifest anxiety, and

among the younger people a very great seriousness. The "coming forward" of Macdonald Dubh was an event

so remarkable as to make a great impression not only upon all the Macdonald men who had been associated

with him so many years in the lumbering, but also upon the whole congregation, to whom his record and

reputation were well known. His change of attitude to the church and all its interests, as well as his change of

disposition and temperament, were so striking as to leave in no one's mind any doubt as to the genuineness of

his "change of heart," and every week made this more apparent. A solemn sense of responsibility and an

intensity of earnestness seemed to possess him, while his humility and gentleness were touching to see.

On the evening of Monday, the day of thanksgiving in the Sacrament Week, a great congregation assembled

for the closing meeting of the Communion Season. During the progress of the meeting, Mr. Murray and the

ministers assisting him became aware that they were in the presence of some remarkable and mysterious

phenomenon. The people listened to the Word with an intensity, response, and eagerness that gave token of a

state of mind and heart wholly unusual. Here and there, while the psalms were being sung or prayers being

offered, women and men would break down in audible weeping; and in the preaching the speaker was

At length the last psalm was given out, and the congregation, contrary to their usual custom, by the minister's

direction, rose to sing. As John "Aleck" led the people in that great volume of praise, the ministers held a

hasty consultation in the pulpit. The professor had never seen anything so marvelous; Mr. Murray was

reminded of the days of W. C. Burns. The question was, What was to be done? Should the meetings be

continued, or should they close tonight? They had a great fear of religious excitement. They had seen

something of the dreadful reaction following a state of exalted religious feeling. It was the beginning of

harvest, too. Would it be advisable to call the people from their hard work in the fields to nightly meetings?

At length, as the congregation were nearing the close of the psalm, the professor spoke. "Brethren," he said,

"this is not our work. Let us leave it to the Lord to decide. Put the question to the people and abide by their

After the psalm was sung, the minister motioned the congregation to their seats, and without comment or

suggestion, put before them the question that had been discussed in the pulpit. Was it their desire that the

meetings should be continued or not? A deep, solemn silence lay upon the crowded church, and for some

time no one moved. Then the congregation were startled to see Macdonald Dubh rise slowly from his place in

"Mr. Murray," he said, in a voice that vibrated strangely, "you will pardon me for letting my voice be heard in

"Speak, Mr. Macdonald," said the minister, "and I thank God for the sound of your voice in His house."

"It is not for me to make any speeches here. I will only make bold to give my word that the meetings be

continued. It may be that the Lord, who has done such great things for me, will do great things for others

Kenny Crubach at once rose and said: "We are always slow at following the Lord. Let us go forward."

The minister waited for some moments after Kenny had spoken, and then said, in a voice grave and with a

feeling of responsibility in it: "You have heard these brethren, my people. I wait for the expression of your

Like one man the great congregation rose to their feet. It was a scene profoundly impressive, and with these

For eighteen months, night after night, every night in the week except Saturday, the people gathered in such

numbers as to fill the new church to the door. Throughout all the busy harvest season, in spite of the autumn

rains that filled the swamps and made the roads almost impassable, in the face of the driving snows of winter,

through the melting ice of the spring, and again through the following summer and autumn, the great revival

held on. No fictitious means were employed to stir the emotions of the people or to kindle excitement among

them. There were neither special sermons nor revival hymns. The old doctrines were proclaimed, but

proclaimed with a fullness and power unknown at other times. The old psalms were sung, but sung perhaps as

they had never been before. For when John "Aleck's" mighty voice rolled forth in its full power, and when his

band of trained singers followed, lifting onward with them the great congregationfor every man, woman,

and child sang with full heart and open throatthe effect was something altogether wonderful and worth

hearing. Each night there was a sermon by the minister, who, for six months, till his health broke down, had

sole charge of the work. Then the sermon was followed by short addresses or prayers by the elders, and after

that the minister would take the men, and his wife the women, for closer and more personal dealing.

As the revival deepened it became the custom for others than the elders to take part, by reading a psalm or

other Scripture, without comment, or by prayer. There was a shrinking from anything like a violent display of

emotion, and from any unveiling of the sacred secrets of the heart, but Scripture reading or quoting was

supposed to express the thoughts, the hopes, the fears, the gratitude, the devotion, that made the religious

experience of the speaker. This was as far as they considered it safe or seemly to go.

One of the first, outside the ranks of the elders, to take part in this way was Macdonald Dubh; then Long John

Cameron followed; then Peter McGregor and others of the men of maturer years. A distinct stage in the

revival was reached when young Aleck McRae rose to read his Scripture. He was quickly followed by Don,

young Findlayson, and others of that age, and from that time onward the old line that had so clearly

distinguished age from youth in respect to religious duty and privilege, was obliterated forever. It had been a

strange, if not very doubtful, phenomenon to see a young man "coming forward," or in any way giving

It was no small anxiety and grief to Mrs. Murray that Ranald, though he regularly attended the meetings,

seemed to remain unmoved by the tide of religious feeling that was everywhere surging through the hearts of

the people. The minister advised letting him alone, but Mrs. Murray was anxiously waiting for the time when

Ranald would come to her. That time came, but not until long months of weary waiting on her part, and of

From the very first of the great movement his father threw himself into it with all the earnest intensity of his

nature, but at the same time with a humility that gave token that the memory of the wild days of his youth and

early manhood were never far away from him. He was eager to serve in the work, and was a constant source

of wonder to all who had known him in his youth and early manhood. At all the different meetings he was

present. Nothing could keep him away. "Night cometh," he said to his brother, who was remonstrating with

But Ranald would not let himself see the failing of his father's health, and when, in the harvest, the slightest

work in the fields would send his father panting to the shade, Ranald would say, "It is the hot weather, father.

When the cool days come you will be better. And why should you be bothering yourself with the work,

anyway? Surely Yankee and I can look after that." And indeed they seemed to be quite fit to take off the

Day by day Ranald swung his cradle after Yankee with all a man's steadiness till all the grain was cut; and by

the time the harvest was over, Ranald had developed a strength of muscle and a skill in the harvest work that

made him equal of almost any man in the country. He was all the more eager to have the harvest work done

in time, that his father might not fret over his own inability to help. For Ranald could not bear to see the look

of disappointment that sometimes showed itself in his father's face when weakness drove him from the field,

and it was this that made him throw himself into the work as he did. He was careful also to consult with his

father in regard to all the details of the management of the farm, and to tell him all that he was planning to do

as well as all that was done. His father had always been a kind of hero to Ranald, who admired him for his

prowess with the gun and the ax, as well as for his great strength and courage. But ever since calamity had

befallen him, the boy's heart had gone out to his father in a new tenderness, and the last months had drawn

the two very close together. It was a dark day for Ranald when he was forced to face the fact that his father

was growing daily weaker. It was his uncle, Macdonald Bhain, who finally made him see it.

"Ranald, my boy," said his uncle, gravely, "your father will fade with the leaf, and the first snow will lie upon

And then Ranald fairly faced the fact that before long he would be alone in the world. Without any exchange

of words, he and his father came to understand each other, and they both knew that they were spending their

last days on earth together. On the son's side, they were days of deepening sorrow; but with the father, every

day seemed to bring him a greater peace of mind and a clearer shining of the light that never fades. To his

son, Macdonald Dubh never spoke of the death that he felt to be drawing nearer, but he often spoke to him of

the life he would like his son to live. His only other confidant in these matters was the minister's wife. To her

Macdonald Dubh opened up his heart, and to her, more than to any one else, he owed his growing peace and

light; and it was touching to see the devotion and the tenderness that he showed to her as often as she came to

see him. With his brother, Macdonald Bhain, he made all the arrangements necessary for the disposal of the

Ranald had no desire to be a farmer, and indeed, when the mortgage was paid there would not be much left.

"He will be my son," said Macdonald Bhain to his brother; "and my home will be his while I live."

So in every way there was quiet preparation for Macdonald Dubh's going, and when at last the day came,

It was in the afternoon of a bright September day, as the sun was nearing the tops of the pinetrees in the

west. His brother was supporting him in his strong arms, while Ranald knelt by the bedside. Near him sat the

"Lift me up, Tonal," said the dying man; "I will be wanting to see the sun again, and then I will be going. I

will be going to the land where they will not need the light of the sun. Tonal, bhodaich, it is the good brother

"Och, Hugh, man. Are you going from me?" said Macdonald Bhain, with great sorrow in his voice.

"Aye, Tonal, for a little." Then he looked for a few moments at Kirsty, who was standing at the foot of the

"You have always been kind to me and mine, and you were kind to HER as well, and the reward will come to

you." Then he turned to Mrs. Murray, and said, with a great light of joy in his eyes: "It is you that came to me

as the angel of God with a word of salvation, and forever more I will be blessing you." And then he added, in

a voice full of tenderness, "I will be telling her about you." He took Mrs. Murray's hand and tremblingly

"It has been a great joy to me," said Mrs. Murray, with difficulty steadying her voice, "to see you come to

"Aye, I know it well," he said; and then he added, in a voice that sank almost to a whisper, "Now you will be

reading the prayer." And Mrs. Murray, opening her Gaelic Bible, repeated in her clear, soft voice, the words

of the Lord's Prayer. Through all the petitions he followed her, until he came to the words, "Forgive us our

"Ranald, my man," he said, raising his hand with difficulty and laying it upon the boy's head, "you will listen

to me now. Some day you will find the man that brought me to this, and you will say to him that your father

forgave him freely, and wished him all the blessing of God. You will promise me this, Ranald?" said

"Yes, father," said Ranald, lifting his head, and looking into his father's face.

"And, Ranald, you, too, will be forgiving him?" But to this there was no reply. Ranald's head was buried in

"Ah," said Macdonald Dubh, with difficulty, "you are your father's son; but you will not be laying this

"Oh, father!" cried Ranald, with a breaking voice, "how can I forgive him? How can I forgive the man who

"It is no man," replied his father, "but the Lord himself; the Lord who has forgiven your father much. I am

Then, with a great sob, Ranald broke forth: "Oh, father, I will forgive him," and immediately became quiet,

After some moments of silence, Macdonald Dubh looked once more toward the minister's wife, and a radiant

Her face was wet with tears, and for a few moments she could not speak. But it was no time to fail in duty,

so, commanding her tears, with a clear, unwavering voice she went on to the end of the prayer

"Glory!" said Macdonald Dubh after her. "Aye, the Glory. Ranald, my boy, where are you? You will be

following me, lad, to the Glory. SHE will be asking me about you. You will be following me, lad?"

"Aye," said Macdonald Dubh, "and you will come. I will be telling HER. Now lay me down, Tonal; I will be

Macdonald Bhain laid him quietly back on his pillow, and for a moment he lay with his eyes closed.

Once more he opened his eyes, and with a troubled look upon his face, and in a voice of doubt and fear, he

His eyes wandered till they fell on Mrs. Murray's face, and then the trouble and fear passed out of them, and

in a gentler voice he said: "Forgive us our debts." Then, feeling with his hand till it rested on his son's head,

There was little sadness and no bitter grief at Macdonald Dubh's funeral. The tone all through was one of

triumph, for they all knew his life, and how sore the fight had been, and how he had won his victory. His

humility and his gentleness during the last few weeks of his life had removed all the distance that had

separated him from the people, and had drawn their hearts toward him; and now in his final triumph they

But to Ranald the sadness was more than the triumph. Through the wild, ungoverned years of his boyhood his

father had been more than a father to him. He had been a friend, sharing a common lot, and without much

show of tenderness, understanding and sympathizing with him, and now that his father had gone from him, a

The farm and its belongings were sold. Kirsty brought with her the big box of blankets and linen that had

belonged to Ranald's mother. Ranald took his mother's Gaelic Bible, his father's gun and ax, and with the

great deerhound, Bugle, and his colt, Lisette, left the home of his childhood behind him, and with his Aunt

Throughout the autumn months he was busy helping his uncle with the plowing, the potatoes, and the fall

work. Soon the air began to nip, and the night's frost to last throughout the shortening day, and then

Macdonald Bhain began to prepare wood for the winter, and to make all things snug about the house and

barn; and when the first fall of snow fell softly, he took down his broadax, and then Ranald knew that the

gang would soon be off again for the shanties. That night his uncle talked long with him about his future.

"I have no son, Ranald," he said, as they sat talking; "and, for your father's sake and for your own, it is my

desire that you should become a son to me, and there is no one but yourself to whom the farm would go. And

glad will I be if you will stay with me. But, stay or not, all that I have will be yours, if it please the Lord to

"I would want nothing better," said Ranald, "than to stay with you and work with you, but I do not draw

"Indeed, I know not," said Ranald, "but something else than farming. But meantime I should like to go to the

And so, when the Macdonald gang went to the woods that winter, Ranald, taking his father's ax, went with

them. And so clever did the boy prove himself that by the time they brought down their raft in the spring

there was not a man in all the gang that Macdonald Bhain would sooner have at his back in a tight place than

his nephew Ranald. And, indeed, those months in the woods made a man out of the long, lanky boy, so that,

on the first Sabbath after the shantymen came home, not many in the church that day would have recognized

the darkfaced, stalwart youth had it not been that he sat in the pew beside Macdonald Bhain. It was with no

small difficulty that the minister's wife could keep her little boy quiet in the back seat, so full of pride and joy

was he at the appearance of his hero; but after the service was over, Hughie could be no longer restrained.

Pushing his way eagerly through the crowd, he seized upon Ranald and dragged him to his mother.

"Here he is, mother!" he exclaimed, to Ranald's great confusion, and to the amusement of all about him. "Isn't

And as Ranald greeted Mrs. Murray with quiet, grave courtesy, she felt that his winter in the woods and on

the river had forever put behind him his boyhood, and that henceforth he would take his place among the

men. And looking at his strong, composed, grave face, she felt that that place ought not to be an unworthy

The shantymen came back home to find the revival still going on. Not a home but had felt its mighty power,

and not a man, woman, or even child but had come more or less under its influence. Indeed, so universal was

that power that Yankee was heard to say, "The boys wouldn't go in swimmin' without their New

Testaments"not but that Yankee was in very fullest sympathy with the movement. He was regular in his

attendance upon the meetings all through spring and summer, but his whole previous history made it difficult

for him to fully appreciate the intensity and depth of the religious feeling that was everywhere throbbing

"Don't see what the excitement's for," he said to Macdonald Bhain one night after meeting. "Seems to me the

Almighty just wants a feller to do the right thing by his neighbor and not be too independent, but go 'long

kind o' humble like and keep clean. Somethin' wrong with me, perhaps, but I don't seem to be able to work up

When Macdonald Bhain reported this difficulty of Yankee's to Mrs. Murray, she only said: "'What doth the

Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?'" And with this

Macdonald Bhain was content, and when he told Yankee, the latter came as near to excitement as he ever

allowed himself. He chewed vigorously for a few moments, then, slapping his thigh, he exclaimed: "By jings!

That's great. She's all right, ain't she? We ain't all built the same way, but I'm blamed if I don't like her

But the shantymen noticed that the revival had swept into the church, during the winter months, a great

company of the young people of the congregation; and of these, a band of some ten or twelve young men,

with Don among them, were attending daily a special class carried on in the vestry of the church for those

Mrs. Murray urged Ranald to join this class, for, even though he had no intention of becoming a minister, still

the study would be good for him, and would help him in his after career. She remembered how Ranald had

told her that he had no intention of being a farmer or lumberman. And Ranald gladly listened to her, and

threw himself into his study, using his spare hours to such good purpose throughout the summer that he easily

kept pace with the class in English, and distanced them in his favorite subject, mathematics.

But all these months Mrs. Murray felt that Ranald was carrying with him a load of unrest, and she waited for

the time when he would come to her. His uncle, Macdonald Bhain, too, shared her anxiety in regard to

"He is the fine, steady lad," he said one night, walking home with her from the church; "and a good winter's

work has he put behind him. He is that queeck, there is not a man like him on the drive; but he is not the same

boy that he was. He will not be telling me anything, but when the boys will be sporting, he is not with them.

He will be reading his book, or he will be sitting by himself alone. He is like his father in the courage of him.

There is no kind of water he will not face, and no man on the river would put fear on him. And the strength of

him! His arms are like steel. But," returning to his anxiety, "there is something wrong with him. He is not at

"I would like it, too," replied Mrs. Murray. "Perhaps he will come to me. At any rate, I must wait for that."

At last, when the summer was over, and the harvest all gathered in, the days were once more shortening for

the fall, Ranald drove Lisette one day to the manse, and went straight to the minister's wife and opened up his

"I cannot keep my promise to my father, Mrs. Murray," he said, going at once to the heart of his trouble. "I

cannot keep the anger out of my heart. I cannot forgive the man that killed my father. I will be waking at

night with the very joy of feeling my fingers on his throat, and I feel myself longing for the day when I will

meet him face to face and nothing between us. But," he added, "I promised my father, and I must keep my

word, and that is what I cannot do, for the feeling of forgiveness is not here," smiting his breast. "I can keep

For a long time Mrs. Murray let him go on without seeking to check the hot flow of his words and without a

word of reproof. Then, when he had talked himself to silence, she took her Bible and read to him of the

servant who, though forgiven, took his fellowservant by the throat, refusing to forgive. And then she turned

over the leaves and read once more: "'God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet

"I know," he said, deliberately; "I have read that often through the winter, but it does not help the feeling I

have. I think it only makes it worse. There is some one holding my arm, and I want to strike."

"And do you forget," said Mrs. Murray, and her voice was almost stern, "and do you forget how, for you,

"No, no," said Ranald; "I often think of that. But when I think of that man, something stirs within me and I

cannot see, for the daze before my eyes, and I know that some day I will be at him. I cannot help my feeling."

"Ranald," said Mrs. Murray, "have you ever thought how he will need God's mercy like yourself? And have

you never thought that perhaps he has never had the way of God's mercy put before him? To you the Lord

has given much, to him little. It is a terrible thing to be ungrateful for the mercy of God; and it is a shameful

thing. It is unworthy of any true man. How can any one take the fullness of God's mercy and his patience

She did not spare him, and as Ranald sat and listened, his life and character began to appear to him small and

"The Lord means you to be a noble man, Ranalda man with the heart and purpose to do some good in the

world, to be a blessing to his fellows; and it is a poor thing to be so filled up with selfishness as to have no

thought of the honor of God or of the good of men. Louis LeNoir has done you a great wrong, but what is that

wrong compared with the wrong you have done to Him who loved you to His own death?"

Then she gave him her last word: "When you see Louis LeNoir, think of God's mercy, and remember you are

And with that word in his heart, Ranald went away, ashamed and humbled, but not forgiving. The time for

that had not yet come. But before he left for the shanties, he saw Mrs. Murray again to say good by. He met

her with a shamed face, fearing that she must feel nothing but contempt for him.

"You will think ill of me," he said, and in spite of his self control his voice shook. "I could not bear that."

"No, I could never think ill of you, Ranald, but I would be grieved to think that you should fail of becoming a

noble man, strong and brave; strong enough to forgive and brave enough to serve."

Once more Ranald went to the woods, with earnest thoughts in his mind, hoping he should not meet LeNoir,

and fighting out his battle to victory; and by the time the drive had reached the big water next spring, that

battle was almost over. The days in the silent woods and the nights spent with his uncle in the camp, and

The timber cut that year was the largest that had ever been known on the Upper Ottawa. There was great

crowding of rafts on the drive, and for weeks the chutes were full, and when the rafts were all brought

together at Quebec, not only were the shores lined and Timber Cove packed, but the broad river was full from

For the firm of Raymond St. Clair this meant enormous increase of business, and it was no small annoyance

that at this crisis they should have detected their Quebec agent in fraud, and should have been forced to

dismiss him. The situation was so critical that Mr. St. Clair himself, with Harry as his clerk, found it

necessary to spend a month in Quebec. He took with him Maimie and her great friend Kate Raymond, the

On the whole, Maimie was not sorry to visit the ancient capital of Canada, though she would have chosen

another time. It was rather disappointing to leave her own city in the West, just at the beginning of the spring

gayeties. It was her first season, and the winter had been distinguished by a series of social triumphs. She was

the toast of all the clubs and the belle of all the balls. She had developed a rare and fascinating beauty, and

had acquired an air so distingue that even her aunt, Miss St. Clair, was completely satisfied. It was a little

hard for her to leave the scene of her triumphs and to abandon the approaching gayeties.

But Quebec had its compensations, and then there were the De Lacys, one of the oldest English families of

Quebec. The St. Clairs had known them for many years. Their blood was unquestionably blue, they were

wealthy, and besides, the only son and representative of the family was now lieutenant, attached to the

garrison at the Citadel. Lieutenant De Lacy suggested possibilities to Maimie. Quebec might be endurable for

Maimie was standing at the window looking down upon the river with its fleet of rafts. Beside her stood

"What a lot of timber!" said Harry. "And the town is just full of lumbermen. A fellow said there must be six

"Fun! rather. These fellows have been up in the woods for some five or six months, and when they get to

town where there is whisky andandthat sort of thing, they just get wild. They say it is awful."

"Hurt anybody!" exclaimed Harry. "Oh, not at all; they are always extremely careful not to hurt any one.

They are as gentle as lambs. I say, let us go down to the river and look at the rafts. De Lacy was coming up,

but it is too late now for him. Besides, we might run across Maimie's man from Glengarry."

"Nonsense, Kate!" said Maimie, blushing. "He is talking about Ranald, you know. One of Aunt Murray's

"Yes," cried Harry, striking an attitude, "and the boy that for love of her entered the lists, and in a fistic

"Oh, Harry, do have some sense!" said Maimie, impatiently. "Hush, here comes some one; Lieutenant De

It was the lieutenant, handsome, tall, well made, with a highbred if somewhat dissipated face, an air of blase

indifference a little overdone, and an accent which he had brought back with him from Oxford, and which he

was anxious not to lose. Indeed, the bare thought of the possibility of his dropping into the flat, semi nasal

"We were just going down to the river," said Maimie, after the introductions were over, "but I suppose it is all

"Aw, charmed, I'm sure." (The lieutenant pronounced it "shuah.") "But it is rathaw, don't you know, not

"He is thinking of his boots," said Harry, scornfully, looking down at the lieutenant's shining patent leathers.

"I love the shantymen," exclaimed Kate, enthusiastically. "Maimie told me all about them."

"They would not have you," answered Kate. "Besides, you would have to eat pork and onions and things."

"I am going right on the raft," declared Kate, stoutly, "if we can only find Ranald."

"Nonsense, Lieutenant De Lacy," said Maimie, impatiently and a little haughtily; "he is a friend of my aunt's

"No nonsense about it," said Harry, indignant that his sister should seem indifferent to Ranald. "He is a great

"Harry, how can you be so?" said Maimie, much annoyed. "What will the lieutenant think of me?"

"Ah, if I only might tell!" said the lieutenant, looking at her with languishing eyes. But already Kate was

As they neared the lower town, the narrow streets became more and more crowded with men in the

shantymen's picturesque dress, and they had some difficulty in making their way through the jolly, jostling

crowds. As they were nearing the river, they saw coming along the narrow sidewalk a burly

FrenchCanadian, dressed in the gayest holiday garb of the shantymen.red shirt and sash, corduroys

tucked into red topboots, a little round soft hat set upon the back of his black curls, a gorgeous silk

handkerchief around his neck, and a big gold watchchain with seals at his belt. He had a bold, handsome

face, and swaggered along the sidewalk, claiming it all with an assurance fortified by whisky enough to make

"Hello!" he shouted, as he swaggered along. "Make way, I'm de boss bully on de reever Hottawa." It was his

day of glory, and it evidently pleased him much that the people stood aside to let him pass. Then he broke

"This, I suppose, is one of your beloved shantymen," said the lieutenant, turning to Kate, who was walking

"Quite unnecessary, I assure you," said the lieutenant, indifferently; "I have not the least idea that he will

The lumberman by this time had swaggered up to the party, expecting them to make way, but instead, De

Lacy stiffened his shoulder, caught the Frenchman in the chest, and rolled him off into the street. Surprised

and enraged, the Frenchman turned to demolish the man who had dared to insult the "boss bully on de reever

"Vous n'avez pas remarque la demoiselle," said the lieutenant, in a tone of politeness.

The lumberman, who had swaggered up ready to strike, glanced at Maimie, took off his hat, and made a

"Bon jour," said Lieutenant De Lacy, with a military salute, and moved on, leaving the lumberman staring

"Beauty and the Beast," murmured the lieutenant. "Thought I was in for it, sure. Really wonderful, don't you

"Dear creatures!" said the lieutenant, glancing at Kate with a mildly pathetic look. "Sweet, but not always

"Safe enough, Miss St. Clair, but," pulling out his perfumed handkerchief, "rather trying."

The office of Raymond St. Clair stood near the wharves. Harry paused at the door, not quite sure whether to

"The Macdonald gang are in, and the Big Macdonald was here not half an hour ago, and Ranald is down at

"Oh, do let us go on!" cried Kate, to whom Harry had been extolling Ranald on the way down. "You really

"Awful slush," said the lieutenant, glancing at Maimie's face. "Do you think the timber wouldn't keep for a

To be quite fair to the lieutenant, it was Maimie's doubtful face, rather than his shiny boots, that made him

hesitate. She was evidently nervous and embarrassed. The gay, easy manner which was her habit was gone.

Scores of rafts lay moored along the wharves and shore, and hundred of lumbermen were to be seen

everywhere, not only on the timber and wharves, but crowding the streets and the doors of the little saloons.

For half an hour they walked along, watching the men at work with the timber on the river. Some were

loading the vessels lying at anchor, some were shifting the loose timber about. When they reached the end of

the last wharf, they saw a strapping young lumberman, in a shanty costume that showed signs of the woods,

running some loose sticks of timber round the end of the raft. With great skill he was handling his pike,

walking the big sticks and running lightly over the timber too small to carry him, balancing himself on a

single stick while he moved the timber to the bit of open water behind the raft, and all with a grace and

"Rather clever, that," said the lieutenant, lazily. "Hello! close call, that; ha! bravo!" It was not often the

lieutenant allowed himself the luxury of excitement, but the lumberman running his timber slipped his pike

pole and found himself balancing on the edge of open water. With a mighty spring he cleared the open space,

touched a piece of small timber that sank under him, and at the next spring landed safe on the raft. Maimie's

scream sounded with the lieutenant's "bravo." At the cry the young fellow looked up. It was Ranald.

"Hello, there!" cried Harry; and with an answering shout, Ranald, using his pike as a jumpingpole, cleared

the open space, ran lightly over the floating sticks, and with another spring reached the shore. Without a

moment's hesitation he dropped his pole and came almost running toward them, his face radiant with delight.

"How do you do?" said Maimie. She had noticed the look of surprise and mild disgust on the lieutenant's

face, and she was embarrassed. Ranald was certainly not lovely to look at. His shirt was open at the neck,

torn, and dirty. His trousers and boots were much the worse of their struggle with the bush.

"This is Mr. Macdonald, Lieutenant De Lacy," Maimie hurried to say. The lieutenant offered a limp hand.

"Lovely weather," murmured the lieutenant again, looking at his fingers that Ranald had just let go.

"Well, old chap," said Harry, grasping Ranald's hand and throwing his arm about his shoulder, "I am awfully

glad to find you. We have been hunting you for half an hour. But hold up, here you are. Let me introduce you

Kate came forward with a frank smile. "I am very glad to meet you," she said. "I have heard so much about

Her greeting warmed Ranald's heart that somehow had been chilled in the meeting. Something was wrong.

Was it this fop of a soldier, or had Maimie changed? Ranald glanced at her face. No, she was the same, only

But while she was shaking hands with him, there flashed across his mind the memory of the first time he had

seen her, and the look of amusement upon her face then, that had given him such deadly offense. There was

no amusement now, but there was embarrassment and something else. Ranald could not define it, but it

chilled his heart, and at once he began to feel how badly dressed he was. The torn shirt, the ragged trousers,

and the old, unshapely boots that he had never given a thought to before, now seemed to burn into his flesh.

"Where are you off to?" cried Harry; "do you think we are going to let you go now? We had hard enough

work finding you. Come up to the office and see the governor. He wants to see you badly."

Ranald glanced at the lieutenant, immaculate except where the slush had speckled his shiny boots, and then at

"No!" said Kate, impetuously, "come right along now." As she spoke she ranged herself beside him.

For a moment or two Ranald hesitated, shot a searching glance at Maimie's face, and then, with a reckless

laugh, said, "I will go now," and set off forthwith, Kate proudly marching at one side, and Harry on the other,

And a good thing it was for Ranald that he did go that day with Harry to his "governor's" office. They found

the office in a "swither," as Harry said, over the revelations of fraud that were coming to light every

daybookkeeper, clerk, and timberchecker having all been in conspiracy to defraud the company.

"Where have you been, Harry?" said his father in an annoyed tone as his son entered the office. "You don't

"Ah, the young man from Glengarry?" said Mr. St. Clair, rising. "I am glad to know you, and to thank you in

Mr. St. Clair spoke to Ranald of his father and his uncle in words of highest appreciation, and as Ranald

listened, the reckless and hard look which had been gathering ever since his meeting with Maimie passed

"I hear about you frequently from my sister, Mr. Macdonaldor shall I say Ranald?" said Mr. St. Clair,

"I am proud to think so," replied Ranald, his face lighting up as he spoke; "but every one loves her. She is a

Then Maimie drew nearer. "How is auntie?" she said. "What a shame not to have asked before!"

"She was very well last fall," said Ranald, looking keenly into Maimie's face; "but she is working too hard at

"Oh, yes. I forgot. What a shame! What is the use of her killing herself that way?"

"There is much use," said Ranald, gravely. "They are making bad men good, and the whole countryside is

"I have no doubt about that," said Mr. St. Clair. "She will be the head and heart and hands and feet."

"You're just right, governor," said Harry, warmly. "There is no woman living like Aunt Murray."

There was silence for a few moments. Then Mr. St. Clair said suddenly: "We are in an awful fix here. Not a

"Oh, of course, Harry is an excellent bookkeeper," Harry bowed low; "while he is at it," added Mr. St. Clair.

"But now the checker is gone," said Mr. St. Clair, "and that is extremely awkward."

"Pardon me, Mr. St. Clair," said that gentleman, holding up his hand. "I used to check a little at Rugby,

"This awfully charming brother of yours, so very frank, don't you know!" said the lieutenant, softly, to

"Ranald!" exclaimed Mr. St. Clair. "Why, the very man! You understand timber, and you are honest."

"What do you say, Ranald?" said Mr. St. Clair. "Will you take a day to think it over?"

"No," said Ranald; "I will be your checker." And so Ranald became part of the firm of Raymond St. Clair.

"Come along, Ranald," said Harry. "We will take the girls home, and then come back to the office."

"No," said Ranald; "I will go back to the raft first, and then come to the office. Shall I begin tonight?" he said

"Tomorrow morning will do, Ranald," said Mr. St. Clair. "Come up to the hotel and see us tonight." But

"Good by, just now," she said, smiling into his face. "You will come and see us tonight, perhaps?"

Ranald looked at her, while the blood mounted slowly into his dark cheek, and said: "Yes, I will come."

"What's the matter with you, Maimie?" said Harry, indignantly, when they had got outside. "You would think

"You might try the river," said the lieutenant. "I fancy he would go in. Looks that sort."

"Go in?" cried Harry, "he would go anywhere." The lieutenant made no reply. He evidently considered that it

was hardly worth the effort to interest himself in the young lumberman, but before he was many hours older

After taking the young ladies to their hotel there was still an hour till the lieutenant's dinner, so, having

resolved to cultivate the St. Clair family, he proposed accompanying Harry back to the office.

As they approached the lower portion of the town they heard wild shouts, and sauntering down a side street,

they came upon their FrenchCanadian friend of the afternoon. He was standing with his back against a wall

trying to beat off three or four men, who were savagely striking and kicking at him, and crying the while:

"Our friend seems to have found the object of his search," said the lieutenant, as he stood across the street

"I say, he's a good one, isn't he?" cried Harry, admiring the Ottawa's dauntless courage and his fighting skill.

"His eagerness for war will probably be gratified in a few minutes, by the look of things," replied the

The Gatineaus were crowding around, and had evidently made up their minds to bring the Ottawa champion

to the dust. That they were numbers to one mattered not at all. There was little chivalry in a shantymen's

"Ha! Rather a good one, that," exclaimed the lieutenant, mildly interested. "He put that chap out somewhat

The Ottawa champion was being sorely pressed, and it looked as if in a moment or two more he would be

"Well," said the lieutenant, languidly, "it's beastly dirty, but the chap's done rather well, so here goes."

Smoking his cigar, and followed by Harry, he pushed across the street to the crowd, and got right up to the

"Here, you fellows," he called out, in a high, clear voice, "what the deuce do you mean, kicking up such a

The astonished crowd stopped fighting and fell back a little. The calm, clear voice of command and her

"Mon camarade!" said the lieutenant, removing his cigar and saluting, "rather warm, eh?"

"Better get away, mon ami. The odds are rather against you," said the lieutenant. "Your friends are some

distance down the next street. You better go along." So saying, he stepped out toward the crowd of Gatineaus

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, politely, waving his little cane. Those immediately in front gave back,

allowed the lieutenant, followed by the Ottawa man and Harry, to pass, and immediately closed in behind.

They might have escaped had it not been that the Ottawa man found it impossible to refrain from hurling

taunts at them and inviting them to battle. They had gone not more than two blocks when there was a rush

from behind, and before they could defend themselves they were each in the midst of a crowd, fighting for

their lives. The principal attack was, of course, made upon the Ottawa man, but the crowd was quite

determined to prevent the lieutenant and Harry from getting near him. In vain they struggled to break through

the yelling mass of Gatineaus, who now had become numerous enough to fill the street from wall to wall, and

among whom could be seen some few of the Ottawa men trying to force their way toward their champion. By

degrees both Harry and De Lacy fought their way to the wall, and toward each other.

"Looks as if our man had met his Waterloo," said the lieutenant, waiting for his particular man to come again.

"What a lot of beasts they are!" said Harry, disgustedly, beating off his enemy.

"Hello! Here they come again. We shall have to try another shot, I suppose," said the lieutenant, as the crowd,

which had for a few moments surged down the street, now came crushing back, with the Ottawa leader, and

"Well, here goes," said De Lacy, leaving the wall and plunging into the crowd, followed by Harry. As they

And immediately the cry, a familiar enough one in those days, was taken up on all sides. The crowd stiffened,

and the attack upon the center became more determined than ever. The little company formed a circle, and

"Make for the wall. Keep together," cried De Lacy, pushing out toward the side, and followed by his

company. But, one by one, the Ottawas were being dragged down and trampled beneath the "corked" boots of

their foes, till only two of them, with their leader, beside Harry and De Lacy, were left.

At length the wall was gained. There they faced about and for a time held their lives safe. But every moment

fresh men rushed in upon them, yelling their cries, "Gatineau! Gatineau! A bas les Anglais!"

The Ottawa leader was panting hard, and he could not much longer hold his own. His two companions were

equally badly off. Harry was pale and bleeding, but still in good heart. The lieutenant was unmarked as yet,

and coolly smoking his cigar, but he knew well that unless help arrived their case was hopeless.

"We can't run," he remarked, calmly, "but a dignified and speedy retreat is in order if it can be executed.

But as soon as they moved two more of the Ottawas were dragged down and trampled on.

"It begins to look interesting," said the lieutenant to Harry. "Sorry you are into this, old chap. It was rather my

"Oh, fault be hanged!" cried Harry. "It's nobody's fault, but it looks rather serious. Get back, you brute!" So

saying, he caught a burly Frenchman under the chin with a straight lefthander and hurled him back upon the

"Ah, rather pretty," said the lieutenant, mildly. "It is not often you can just catch them that way." They were

still a few yards from the shop door, but every step of their advance had to be fought.

"I very much fear we can't make it," said the lieutenant, quietly to Harry. "We had better back up against the

But as he spoke they heard a sound of shouting down the street a little way, which the Ottawa leader at once

Swiftly, fiercely, came the band of men, some twenty of them, cleaving their way through the crowd like a

wedge. At their head, and taller than the others, fought two men, whose arms worked with the systematic

precision of pistonrods, and before whom men fell on either hand as if struck with sledgehammers.

"Hottawa a moi!" cried the Ottawa champion again, and the relieving party faced in his direction.

"I say," said the lieutenant, "that first man is uncommonly like your Glengarry friend."

"What, Ranald?" cried Harry. "Then we are all right. I swear it is," he said, after a few moments, and then,

remembering the story of the great fight on the Nation, which he had heard from Hughie and Maimie, he

"Here, Ranald!" yelled Harry, waving his white handkerchief. Then Ranald caught sight of him.

"Glengarry! Glengarry forever!" echoed Yankeefor he it was plunging after his leader.

Swift and sharp like the thrust of a lance, the Glengarry men pierced the crowd, which gave back on either

"How in the world did YOU get here?" cried Ranald to Harry; then, looking about him, cried: "Where is

LeNware? I heard he was being killed by the Gatineaus, and I got a few of our men and came along."

"LeNware? That is our Canadian friend, I suppose," said the lieutenant. "He was here a while ago. By Jove!

Surrounded by a crowd of the Gatineaus, LeNoir, for he was the leader of the Ottawas, was being battered

"Glengarry!" cried Ranald, and like a lion he leaped upon them, followed by Yankee and the others. Right

and left he hurled the crowd aside, and seizing LeNoir, brought him out to his own men.

"Who are you?" gasped LeNoir. "Why, no, it ees not possible. Yes, it is Yankee for sure! And de Macdonald

"Never mind," said Ranald, shortly, "let us get away now, quick! Go on, Yankee."

At once, with Yankee leading, the Glengarry men marched off the field of battle bearing with them the

rescued party. There was no time to lose. The enemy far outnumbered them, and would soon return to the

"But how did you know we were in trouble, Ranald?" said Harry as he marched along.

"I didn't know anything about you," said Ranald. "Some one came and said that the bully of the Ottawa was

"And just in time, by Jove!" said the lieutenant, aroused from his languor for once. "It was a deucedly lucky

That night, as Ranald and his uncle were in their cabin on the raft talking over the incidents of the day, and

"I am Louis LeNoir," he said, "and I have some word to say to de young Macdonald. I am sore here," he said,

striking his breast. "I cannot spik your languige. I cannot tell." He stopped short, and the tears came

streaming down his face. "I cannot tell," he repeated, his breast heaving with mighty sobs. "I would be glad to

dieto mak' overto not mak'I cannot say de wordwhat I do to your fadder. I would give my life," he

Ranald stood looking at him for a few moments in silence when he finished; then he said slowly and

distinctly, "My father told me to say that he forgave you everything, and that he prayed the mercy of God for

The Frenchman listened in wonder, greatly moved, but he could only reiterate his words: "I cannot spik what

"Sit down, Mr. LeNoir," said Macdonald Bhain, gravely, pointing to a bench, "and I will be telling you

"Do you see that young man there?" said Macdonald Bhain, pointing to Ranald. He is the strongest man in

my gang, and indeed, I will not be putting him below myself." Here Ranald protested. "And he has learned to

use his hands as I cannot. And of all the men I have ever seen since I went to the woods, there is not one I

"Yes, that is very sure," said Macdonald Bhain. "And he made a vow to kill you," went on Macdonald Bhain,

LeNoir stared at him, and then Macdonald Bhain went on to tell him how his brother had suffered and

struggled long, and how the minister's wife had come to him with the message of the forgiveness of the great

God. And then he read from Ranald's English Bible the story of the unforgiving debtor, explaining it in grave

"That was why," he concluded. "It was because he was forgiven, and on his dying bed he sent you the word

of forgiveness. And that, too, is the very reason, I believe, why the lad here went to your help this day."

"I promised the minister's wife I would do you good and not ill, when it came to me," said Ranald. "But I was

"Yes, afraid of what I would do. But now, tonight, it is gone," said Ranald, simply, "I can't tell you how."

"Das mos' surprise!" exclaimed LeNoir. "Ne comprenne pas. I never see lak dat, me!"

"Yes, it is wonderful," said Macdonald Bhain. "It is very wonderful. It is the grace of God," he said again.

"You mak' de good frien' wit me?" asked LeNoir, rising and putting his hand out to Macdonald Bhain.

Macdonald Bhain rose from his place and stepped toward the Frenchman, and took his hand.

"Yes, I will be friends with you," he said, gravely, "and I will seek God's mercy for you."

Then LeNoir turned to Ranald, and said; "Will you be frien' of me? Is it too moche?"

"Yes," said Ranald, slowly, "I will be your friend, too. It is a little thing," he added, unconsciously quoting his

father's words. Then LeNoir turned around to Macdonald Bhain, and striking an attitude, exclaimed: "See!

You be my boss, I be your manwhat you callslave. I work for noting, me. Das sure."

"You could not belong to us," he said, and explained to him the terms upon which the Macdonald men were

"I do not know," said Macdonald Bhain. "It depends upon the man. He must not take more than is good for

"Bon!" said LeNoir, "das good. One glass he mak' me feel good. Two das nice he mak' me feel ver fonny.

Three glass yes das mak' me de frien' of hevery bodie. Four das mak' me feel big; I walk de big walk; I am de

Macdonald Bhain hesitated. LeNoir came nearer him and lowering his voice said: "I'm ver' bad man me. I lak

And so he was. And when Mrs. Murray heard of it from Macdonald Bhain that summer, she knew that

The story of the riot in which Ranald played so important a part filled the town and stirred society to its

innermost circlesthose circles, namely, in which the De Lacys lived and moved. The whole town began

talking of the Glengarry men, and especially of their young leader who had, with such singular ability and

pluck, rescued the Ottawas with Harry and Lieutenant De Lacy, from their perilous position.

The girls had the story from Harry's lips, and in his telling of it, Ranald's courage and skill certainly lost

nothing; but to Maimie, while it was pleasant enough for her to hear of Ranald's prowess, and while she

enjoyed the reflected glory that came to her as his friend, the whole incident became altogether hateful and

distressing. She found herself suddenly famous in her social world; every one was talking of her, but to her

horror, was connecting Ranald's name with her's in a most significant way. It was too awful, and if her Aunt

Frances should hear of it, the consequences would be quite too terrible for her to imagine. She must stop the

talk at once. Of course she meant to be kind to Ranald; he had done her great service, and he was her Aunt

Murray's friend, and besides, she liked him; how much she hardly cared to say to herself. She had liked him

in Glengarry. There was no doubt of that, but that was two years ago, and in Glengarry everything was

different! There every one was just as good as another, and these people were all her Aunt Murray's friends.

Here the relations were changed. She could not help feeling that however nice he might be, and however

"Well, tell him so; let him see that," said Kate, with whom Maimie was discussing her difficulty.

"Yes, and then he would fly off and Iwe would never see him again," said Maimie. "He's as proud asany

"You know I don't mean that, and I don't think it's very nice of you. You have no sympathy with me!"

"Well, in this very unpleasant affair; every one is talking about Ranald and me, as if Ias if we had some

"And have you not? I thought" Kate hesitated to remind Maimie of certain confidences she had received

"Then there's nothing at all," said Kate, with a suspicion of eagerness in her voice.

"Serious? You mean you don't care for him at all?" Kate looked straight at her friend.

"Oh, you are so awfully direct. I don't know. I do care; he's nice in many ways, and he'sI know he likes me

andI would hate to wound him, but then you know he's not just one of us. You know what I mean!"

"Oh, no, I don't mean education altogether. How very tiresome you are! He has no culture, and manners, and

"I think he has very fine manners. He is a little quaint, but you can't call him rude."

"Oh, no, he's never rude; rather abrupt, but oh, dear, don't you know? What would Aunt Frank say to him?"

Kate's lip curled a little. "I'm very sure I can't say, but I can imagine how she would look."

"But," went on Kate, "I can imagine, too, how Ranald would look back at her if he caught her meaning."

"Well, perhaps," said Maimie, with a little laugh, "and that's just it. Oh, I wish he were"

"And if he were, you would marry him," said Kate, a shade of contempt in her tone that Maimie failed to

"There now, you think I am horrid, I know," said Maimie. "I suppose you would marry him if he were a mere

"If I loved him," said Kate, with slow deliberation, and a slight tremor in her voice, "I'd marry him if he

"I believe you would," said Maimie, with a touch of regret in her voice; "but then, you've no Aunt Frank!"

"And I'm sure I don't want to offend her. Just listen to this." Maimie pulled out a letter, and turning over the

pages, found the place and began to read: "'I am so glad to hear that you are enjoying your stay in

citadel,' 'glorious view'umumumum'finest in the world'No, that isn't itOh, yes, here it is: 'The

De Lacys are a very highly connected English family and very old friends of my friends, the Lord Archers,

with whom I visited in England, you know. The mother is a dear old ladyso stately and so very

particularwith oldfashioned ideas of breeding and manners, and of course, very wealthy. Her house in

Quebec is said to be the finest in the Province, and there are some English estates, I believe, in their line.

Lieutenant De Lacy is her only son, and from what you say, he seems to be a very charming young man. He

will occupy a very high place someday. I suppose Kate will'umumum'Oh yes, and if Mrs. De Lacy

wishes you to visit her you might accept'umum um'and tell Kate that I should be delighted if she

could accompany me on a little jaunt through the Eastern States. I have asked permission of her father, but

she wrote you herself about that, didn't she?umumumAnd then listen to this! 'How very odd you

Macsomethingorother! Your Aunt Murray seems to consider him a very steady and worthy young man. I

hope he may not degenerate in his present circumstances and calling, as so many of his class do. I am glad

your father was able to do something for him. These people ought to be encouraged.' Now you see!"

"Yes," said Kate! "I do see! These people should be encouraged to make our timber for us that we may live in

ease and luxury, and even to save us from fire and from bloodthirsty mobs, as occasions may offer, but as

"Oh, Kate," burst in Maimie, almost in tears, "you are so very unkind. You know quite well what I mean."

"Yes, I know quite well; you would not invite Ranald, for instance, to dine at your house, to meet your Aunt

Frank and the Evanses and the Langfords and the Maitlands," said Kate, spacing her words with deliberate

"Well, I would not, if you put it in that way," said Maimie, petulantly, "and you wouldn't either!"

"I would ask him to meet every Maitland of them if I could," said Kate, "and it wouldn't hurt them either."

"Am I," said Kate; "ask Harry," she continued, as that young man came into the room.

"No, you needn't mind," said Maimie; "I know well he will just side with you. He always does."

"He can't get off any other night; works all night, I believe, and would work all Sunday, too, if his principles

didn't mercifully interfere. He will be boss of the concern before summer is over."

"Oh, Harry," said Maimie, in distress, "and I asked Lieutenant De Lacy and his friend, Mr. Sims, for Sunday

"Oh, hold up; don't get on to your ancestor worship," cried Harry, impatiently. "Anyway, Ranald's coming up

"Oh," cried Harry, scornfully, "he will have on his red flannel shirt and a silk handkerchief, and his trousers

"You are very rude, Harry," said Maimie. "You know quite well that Ranald will not enjoy himself with the

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that Maimie," said Kate; "I will talk to Ranald." But Maimie was not quite sure

"You are just your Aunt Frank over again," said Harry, in a disgusted tone; "clothes and people!"

"I think you are both very unkind. You know Ranald won't enjoy it. He will be quite miserable, andthey'll

"Do you think Ranald would really mind?" interposed Kate, addressing Harry. "Do you think he will feel shy

"No," said Harry, decidedly; "he is coming, and he's coming on Sunday evening. He can't get off any other

night, and besides, I'd have to lie to him, and he has an unpleasant way of finding you out when you are doing

it, and once he does find out why he is not asked for Sunday evening, then you may say good by to him for

"Oh, no fear of that," said Maimie, confidently; "Ranald has good sense, and I know he will come again."

"Well," cried Harry, "if you are not going to treat him as you would treat De Lacy and that idiotic Sims, I

But Harry changed his mind, for next Sunday evening as the young ladies with De Lacy and his friend were

about to sit down to supper in their private parlor, Harry walked in with Ranald, and announced in triumph:

"The man from Glengarry!" Maimie looked at him in dismay, and indeed she well might, for Ranald was

dressed in his most gorgeous shanty array, with red flannel shirt and silk handkerchief, and trousers tucked

into his boots. Sims gazed at him as if he were an apparition. It was Kate who first broke the silence.

"We are delighted to see you," she cried, going forward to Ranald with hands outstretched; "you are become

"Quite, I assure you," said the lieutenant, in a languid voice, but shaking Ranald heartily by the hand.

Then Maimie came forward and greeted him with ceremonious politeness and introduced him to Mr. Sims,

The supper was not a success; Ranald sat silent and solemn, eating little and smiling not at all, although Mr.

Sims executed his very best jokes. Maimie was nervous and visibly distressed, and at the earliest possible

moment broke up the supper party and engaged in conversation with the lieutenant and his witty friend,

leaving Harry and Kate to entertain Ranald. But in spite of all they could do a solemn silence would now and

then overtake the company, till at length Maimie grew desperate, and turning to Ranald, said: "What are you

"He is 'thinking of home and mother,'" quoted Mr. Sims, in a thin, piping voice, following his quotation with

Kate flushed indignantly. "I am quite sure his thoughts will bear telling," she said.

"I am sure they would," said Maimie, not knowing what to say. "What were they, RanMr. Macdonald?"

"And what would that be?" said Kate, coming to the relief of her friend. But Ranald was silent.

"I know," cried Harry. "Let's see, it is ten o'clock; they will all be sitting in the manse diningroom before the

big fire; or, no, they will be in the parlor where the piano is, and John 'Aleck' will be there, and they will be

singing"; and he went on to describe his last Sabbath evening, two years before, in the Glengarry manse. As

he began to picture his aunt and her work, his enthusiasm carried him away, and made him eloquent.

"I tell you," he concluded, "she's a rare woman, and she has a hundred men there ready to die for her, eh,

"Yes," said Ranald, and his deep voice vibrated with intense feeling. "They would just die for her, and why

not? She is a great woman and a good." His dark face was transformed, and his eyes glowed with an inner

In the silence that followed Kate went to the harmonium and began to play softly. Ranald stood up as to go,

"Ye gods!" ejaculated the lieutenant to Maimie, "psalms and hymns; and how the fellow knocked those

"Sing something, Kate, won't you?" said Maimie, and Kate, without a word began the beautiful air from

singing it with a power of expression marvellous in so young a girl. Then, without further request, she glided

into the lovely aria, "O Rest in the Lord." It was all new and wonderful to Ranald. He did not dream that such

majesty and sweetness could be expressed in music. He sat silent with eyes looking far away, and face alight

"Oh, thanks, very much," murmured the lieutenant, when Kate had finished. "Lovely thing that aria, don't you

Ranald looked from one to the other in indignant surprise, and then turning away from them to Kate, said, in

"No, I never heard anything at all like that," interrupted Ranald. "Sing some more like the last."

She played a few introductory chords, and then began that sweetest bit of the greatest of all the oratorios "He

shall Feed His Flock." And from that passed into the soulmoving "He Was Despised" from the same noble

work. The music suited the range and quality of her voice perfectly, and she sang with her heart thrilling in

response to the passionate feeling in the dark eyes fixed upon her face. She had never sung to any one who

listened as Ranald now listened to her. She forgot the others. She was singing for him, and he was compelling

her to her best. She was conscious of a subtle sense of mastery overpowering her, and with a strange delight

she yielded herself to that commanding influence; but as she sang she began to realize that he was thinking

not of her, but of her song, and soon she, too, was thinking of it. She knew that his eyes were filled with the

vision of "The Man of Sorrows" of whom she sang, and before she was aware, the pathos of that lonely and

despised life, set forth in the noble words of the ancient prophet, was pouring forth in the great Master's

When the song was ended, no one spoke for a time, and even Mr. Sims was silent. Then the lieutenant came

over to the harmonium, and leaning toward Kate, said, in an earnest voice, unusual with him, "Thank you

"Great indeed;" said Harry, with enthusiasm. "I never heard you sing like that before, Kate."

But Ranald sat silent, finding no words in which to express the thoughts and feelings her singing had aroused

There is that in noble music which forbids unreality, rebukes frivolity into silence, subdues ignoble passions,

soothes the heart's sorrow, and summons to the soul high and holy thoughts. It was difficult to begin the

conversation; the trivial themes of the earlier part of the evening seemed foreign to the mood that had fallen

upon the company. At length Mr. Sims ventured to remark, with a giggle: "It's awfully fine, don't you know,

but a trifle funereal. Makes one think of graves and that sort of thing. Very nice, of course," he added,

apologetically, to Kate. Ranald turned and regarded the little man for some moments in silence, and then,

with unutterable scorn, exclaimed: "Nice! man, it's wonderful, wonderful to me whatever! Makes me think of

For a few moments Ranald paused, and then replied: "It makes me think of the big pine trees waving and

wailing over me at night, and the big river rolling down with the moonlight on itandother things."

"You will come again soon, Ranald," said Maimie, coming toward him with a look on her face that reminded

him of the days in the Glengarry manse. She had forgotten all about his red shirt and silk handkerchief. As

Ranald caught that look a great joy leaped into his eyes for a moment, then faded into a gaze of perplexity.

"Yes, certainly, tomorrow night," said Kate, blushing deeply now, for she noticed the slight smile on Harry's

face, and the glance that passed between Mr. Sims and the lieutenant. Then Ranald said good night.

"I have never had such pleasure in my life," he said, holding her hand a moment, and looking into her eyes

that sparkled with a happy light. "That is," he added, with a swift glance at Maimie, "from music or things

"Good night," said Ranald, offering his hand to Maimie. "I am glad I came now. It makes me think of the last

night at the manse, although I am always thinking of it," he added, simply, with a touch of sadness in his

He stood a moment or two as if about to speak, while Maimie waited in an agony of fear, not knowing what

to expect in this extraordinary young man. Then he turned abruptly away, and with a good night to De Lacy

"Great Caesar's ghost!" exclaimed the lieutenant; "pardon me, but has anything happened? That young man

now and then gives me a sense of tragedy. What HAS taken place?" he panted, weakly.

"Some one really ought to dress him, though," suggested Mr. Sims, with a slight sneer.

"Oh, well, you know, Miss Raymond," stammered Mr. Sims, "that sort of attire, you know, is hardly the thing

"He is a shantyman," said Maimie, apologetically, "and they all dress like that. I don't suppose that he has any

"Besides," continued Kate, "it is good taste to dress in the garb of your profession, isn't it, Lieutenant De

"Oh, come now, Miss Kate, that's all right," said the lieutenant, "but you must draw the line somewhere, you

"You didn't mind the colors when he saved you the other day from that awful mob!"

"Quite right," answered the lieutenant, "but don't mistake me. I distinguish between a fellow and his clothes."

"For my part," said Kate, "I don't care how a man is dressed; if I like him, I like him should he appear in a

"Delighted, I am sure," said De Lacy; "and that reminds me that madam was thinking of a picnic down the

river this weekjust a small company, you know. The man would drive her down and take the hamper and

things, and we would go down by boat. Awful pull back, though," he added, regretfully, "but if it should give

Maimie looked at her, wondering how she knew that. "I don't think Ranald can get away every day. I'm sure

"No," said Harry, "no more can I, worse luck! The governor is sticking awfully close to work just now."

"And, of course, you can't be spared," said Kate, mockingly. "But couldn't you both come later? We could

"Might," said Harry. "I shall make my best endeavor for your sake," bowing toward Kate, "but I am doubtful

"Well, the fact is," blurted out Harry, desperately, "I don't want to drag in Ranald. I like him awfully, but you

may feel as if he were not quite one of us. You know what I mean; your mother doesn't know him."

Harry felt extremely awkward knowing that he came perilously near to suspecting the lieutenant of the most

"Why, certainly," repeated the lieutenant. "That's all right. Bring your Glengarry man along if any one wants

"Kismet," replied the lieutenant. "It is decreed. The young man must come, for I suspect he is very much 'one

of us.'" But of this the lieutenant was not quite so certain by the time the day of the picnic had arrived.

The Glengarry men were on the Montreal boat leaving for home. Macdonald Bhain's farewell to his nephew

was full of sadness, for he knew that henceforth their ways would lie apart, and full of solemn warnings

"It is a wicked place, and the pitfalls are many, and they are not in the places where the eyes will be looking

for them. Ye are taking the way that will be leading you from us all, and I will not be keeping you back, nor

will I be laying any vows upon you. You will be a true man, and you will keep the fear of God before your

eyes, and you will remember that a Macdonald never fails the man that trusts him." And long after the great

man was gone his last words kept tugging at Ranald's heart: "Ranald, lad, remember us up yonder in the

Indian Lands," he said, holding his hand with a grip that squeezed the bones together; "we will be always

thinking of you, and more than all, at the Bible class and the meetings she will be asking for you and

wondering how you are doing, and by night and by day the door will be on the latch for your coming; for,

laddie, laddie, you are a son to me and more!" The break in the big Macdonald's voice took away from

Ranald all power of speech, and without a word of reply, he had to let his uncle go.

Yankee's good by was characteristic. "Well, guess I'll git along. Wish you were comin' back with us, but

you've struck your gait, I guess, and you're goin' to make quite a dust. Keep your wind till the last quarter;

that's where the money's lost. I ain't 'fraid of you; you're green, but they can't break you. Keep your left eye

on the suckers. There ain't no danger from the feller that rips and rares and gits up on his hind legs, but the

feller that sidles raound and sorter chums it up to you and wants to pay fer your drinks, by Jings, kick him.

And say," Yankee's voice here grew low and impressive, "git some close. These here are all right for the

woods, but with them people close counts an awful lot. It's the man inside that wins, but the close is outside.

Git 'em and git 'em good; none of your secondhand Jew outfits. It'll cost, of course, but(here Yankee

"I know you," he cried; "you would be giving me the coat off your back. If I would be taking money from

any man I'd take it from you, but let me tell you I will have no money that I do not earn;" then, seeing

Yankee's disappointed face, he added, "but indeed, I owe you for your help to meandmimine, when

help was needed sore, more than I can ever pay back." Then, as they shook hands, Ranald spoke again, and

his voice was none too steady. "And I have been thinking that I would like you to have Lisette, for it may be

a long time before I will be back again, and I know you will be good to her; and if ever I need your help in

Yankee chewed his quid of tobacco hard and spat twice before he could reply. Then he answered slowly:

"Now lookyehere, I'll take that little mare and look after her, but the mare's yours and ifand ifwhich I

don't think will happenif you don't come back soon, whyI will send you her equivalent in cash; but I'd

It was with a very lonely heart that Ranald watched out of sight the steamboat that carried to their homes in

the Indian Lands the company of men who had been his comrades for the long months in the woods and on

the river, and all the more that he was dimly realizing that this widening blue strip of flowing river was

separating him forever from the life he so passionately loved. As his eyes followed them he thought of the

homecoming that he would have shared; their meetings at the church door, the grave handshakings from the

older folk, the saucy "horos" from the halfgrown boys, the shy blushing glances from the maidens, and last

and dearest of all, the glad, proud welcome in the sweet, serious face with the graybrown eyes. It was with

the memory of that face in his heart that he turned to meet what might be coming to him, with the resolve that

"Hello, old chap, who's dead?" It was Harry's gay voice. "You look like a tomb." He put his arm through

"I do not knowsome store, I suppose." Ranald had the vaguest notions not only of where he should go, but

of the clothes in which he ought to array himself, but he was not going to acknowledge this to his friend.

"You can't get any clothes fit to wear in this town," said Harry, in high contempt. Ranald's heart sank. "But

As they passed in front of the little French shops, with windows filled inside and out with readymade

"Oh! pshaw," cried Harry, "don't know what you'll get here. We'll find something better than this cheap

stuff," and Ranald, glad enough of guidance, though uncertain as to where it might lead him, followed

"I don't know," said Ranald, doubtfully. It had never occurred to him that there could be any great difference

"Like yours, I suppose," he continued, glancing at Harry's attire, but adding, cautiously, "if they do not cost

"About forty dollars," said Harry, lightly; then, noticing the dismayed look on Ranald's face, he added

quickly, "but you don't need to spend that much, you know. I say, you let me manage this thing." And

fortunate it was for Ranald that he had his friend's assistance in this allimportant business, but it took all

Harry's judgment, skill, and delicacy of handling to pilot his friend through the devious ways of outfitters, for

Ranald's ignorance of all that pertained to a gentleman's wardrobe was equaled only by the sensitive pride on

the one hand that made him shrink from appearing poor and mean, and by his Scotch caution on the other that

forbade undue extravagance. It was a hard hour and a half for them both, but when all was over, Ranald's

"Come up tonight," said Harry, as they stood at the door of the Hotel du Nord, where Ranald had taken up

"I will be very glad," replied Ranald, his face lighting up, for he was more afraid than he cared to show of the

lonely hours of that night. It would be the first night in his life away from his own kin and friends. But he was

not so glad when, after tea, as he stood at the door of the hotel, he saw sauntering toward him not only Harry,

"These fellows would come along," explained Harry; "I told them you didn't want them."

"Showed how little he knew," said the lieutenant. "I told him you would be delighted."

"Will you come in?" said Ranald, rather grudgingly, "though there is nothing much inside."

"Nothing much!" said the lieutenant, "a good deal I should say from what one can hear."

The barroom was filled with men in shanty dress, some sitting with chairs tipped back against the wall,

smoking the black French "twist" tobacco; others drinking at the bar; and others still at the tables that stood in

one corner of the room playing cards with loud exclamations and oaths of delight or disgust, according to

their fortune. The lieutenant pushed his way through the crowd, followed by the others.

"A jolly lot, by Jove!" he exclaimed, looking with mild interest on the scene, "and with the offer of some

sport, too," he added, glancing at the cardplayers in the corner, where men were losing their winter's wages.

"What will you take?" said Ranald, prompted by his Highland sense of courtesy, "and would you have it in

"Anywhere," said the lieutenant, with alacrity; "a little brandy and soda for me; nothing else in these places is

Ranald gave the order, and with some degree of pride, noticed the obsequious manner of the bartender

toward him and his distinguished guests. They passed into an inner and smaller room, lit by two or three

smoky lamps in brackets on the walls. In this room, sitting at one of the tables, were two Frenchmen playing

ecarte. As the lieutenant entered, one of them glanced up and uttered an exclamation of recognition.

"Ah, it is our warlike friend," cried De Lacy, recognizing him in return; "you play this game also," he

"Not moche," said LeNoir, for it was he, with a grand salute. "Will the capitaine join, and his friends?"

"Come along," said the lieutenant, eagerly, to Ranald. The game was his passion. "Mr. Sims, you will; Harry,

"Oh, come in Macdonald," said the lieutenant, "the more the better, and we'll make it poker. You know the

"Mr. Rouleau," said Ranald and LeNoir together, presenting the young Frenchman who spoke and looked

"Go on, De Lacy," said Harry, angry at Mr. Sims's tone. "You've got fourthat'll do!"

"Oh, very well," said De Lacy, his easy, languid air returning to him. "What shall it bequarter chips with a

dollar limit? Brandy and soda, Mr. LeNoir? And you, Mr. Rouleau? Two more glasses, garcon," and the

From the outset Rouleau steadily won till his chips were piled high in front of him.

But still the game was Rouleau's, who grew more and more excited with every win. The lieutenant played

coolly, and with seeming indifference, in which he was imitated by Mr. Sims, the loss of a few dollars being

"It would make it more interesting if we made it a dollar to play," at length said Mr. Sims. The suggestion

was accepted, and the game went on. At once the luck began to turn, and in a half hour's play Rouleau's

winnings disappeared and passed over to the lieutenant's hand. In spite of his bad luck, however, Rouleau

continued to bet eagerly and recklessly, until Ranald, who hated to see the young lumberman losing his

"The night is early," said the lieutenant, "but if you have had enough," he said, bowing to LeNoir and

"Non!" exclaimed Rouleau, "the fortune will to me encore. We mak it de twodollar to play. Dat will brak de

But the demon of play had taken full possession of both Rouleau and the lieutenant and they were not to be

The others deposited a like sum before them, and the game proceeded. The deal was De Lacy's. After a few

moment's consideration, Mr. Sims and LeNoir each drew three cards. In a tone of triumph which he could not

altogether suppress, Rouleau exclaimed "Dees are good enough for me." The lieutenant drew one card, and

Twice Rouleau, when it came to his turn, bet the limit, the others contenting themselves by "raising" one

dollar. On the third round LeNoir, remarking, "Das leetle too queek for me," dropped out.

Once more Rouleau raised the bet to the limit, when Mr. Sims refused, and left the game to him and the

lieutenant. There was no mistaking the eager triumph in the Frenchman's pale face. He began to bet more

cautiously, his only fear being that his opponent would "call" too soon. Dollar by dollar the bet was raised till

at last Rouleau joyously gathered his last chips, raised the bet once more by the limit, exclaiming, as he did

De Lacy, whose coolness was undisturbed, though his face showed signs of his many brandyandsodas,

"Hola!" exclaimed Rouleau in triumph. "Eet ees to me!" He threw down his cards and reached for the pile.

"Excuse me," said the lieutenant, quietly looking at Rouleau's cards. "Ah, a straight flush, queen high."

Coolly he laid his cards on the table. "Thought you might have had the ace," he said, languidly, leaning back

"Do you mean that I cheated you?" he said, with slow emphasis. "Beware what you say."

Before the words had well left his lips, and before any one could interfere De Lacy shot out his arm, lifted the

"Stop! you coward!" Ranald stood before the lieutenant with eyes blazing and breath coming quick.

"Yes! Yes!" cried Ranald, eagerly, the glad light of battle coming into his eyes.

"Good," said De Lacy, slowly putting back his chair, and proceeding to remove his coat.

"Glengarry!" cried LeNoir, raising the battle cry he had cause to remember so well; and flinging off his coat

"De Lacy," cried Harry, "this must not go on! Ranald, think what you are doing!"

"You didn't notice his remark, apparently, St. Clair," said the lieutenant, calmly.

"Never mind," cried Harry, "he was excited, and anyway the thing must end here."

"Ranald," Harry cried, beseechingly, "you know he is no coward; you did not mean that."

"No," he said, regretfully, forcing himself to speak the truth. "I know he is no coward; I have seen him where

no coward would be, but," he added, "he struck a man unguarded, and that was a coward's blow."

"Macdonald," said De Lacy deliberately, "you are right. True, he called me a cheat, but I should have given

him time. Still," he added, rolling up his sleeves, "I hope you will not deprive yourself or me of the privilege

"I will be glad," said Ranald, his eyes once more lighting up. "Very glad indeed, if you wish."

"Nonsense," cried Harry, passionately, "I tell you I will not have it. He has given you ample apology, De

Lacy; and you, Ranald, I thought a Macdonald never fought except for sufficient cause!" Harry remembered

"That is true," said Ranald, gravely, "but it was a cruel blow," pointing to Rouleau, who, supported by

LeNoir, was sitting on a chair, his face badly cut and bleeding, "and that, too, after taking from him the wages

"I suppose you admit the game was fair," said the lieutenant, moving nearer to Ranald, the threat in his tone

"The game was fair," said Ranald, facing De Lacy, "but I will say the lad was no fair match for you!"

"He chose to risk his money, which you were not willing to do." De Lacy felt that he was being put in an

unpleasant light and was determined to anger Ranald beyond control. Ranald caught the sneer.

"If I did not play," he cried, hotly, "it was for no fear of you or any of you. It was no man's game whatever,"

"Now, De Lacy," cried Harry, again, "let this stop. The man who fights will first fight me!"

"Perhaps Mr. Macdonald would show us how the game should be played," said Mr. Sims, coming as near to a

"It would not be hard to show you this game," said Ranald, ignoring Mr. Sims, and looking the lieutenant in

"Good!" cried Harry, gladly seizing the opportunity of averting a fight. "The game! Take your places,

The lieutenant hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain what to do. Then, with a slight laugh, he said, "Very

"No," said Ranald, shortly, "this is my game!" With that he turned aside from the table and spoke a few

words in a low tone to LeNoir, who assisted Rouleau from the room, and after some minutes' absence,

returned with a little linen bag. Ranald took the bag and began to count out some money upon the table before

The lieutenant and Mr. Sims each laid the same amount before them upon the table.

"Say five and twentyfive," said De Lacy, who was commanding himself with a great effort.

It was soon evident that Ranald knew the game. He had learned it during the long winter nights in the shanty

from Yankee, who was a master at it, and he played it warily and with iron nerve. He seemed to know as by

instinct when to retreat and when to pursue; and he played with the single purpose of bleeding the lieutenant

dry. Often did he refuse to take toll of Harry or Mr. Sims when opportunity offered, but never once did he

"You flatter me," said the lieutenant, sarcastically, as Ranald's purpose became increasingly clear.

"I will have from you all you have won," replied Ranald, in a tone of such settled resolve that it seemed as if

nothing could prevent the accomplishment of his purpose. In vain the lieutenant sought to brace his nerves

with his brandyandsodas. He played now recklessly and again with overcaution, while Ranald, taking

advantage of every slip and every sign of weakness, followed him with relentless determination.

With such stakes the game was soon over. It was not long before the lieutenant was stripped of his hundred,

Without a word Ranald laid down his hundred; the others did likewise, and once more the game proceeded.

There was no change in Ranald's play. Thorough knowledge of the game, absolute self command, an

instinctive reading of his opponent's mind, and unswerving purpose soon brought about the only result

possible. The lieutenant's second hundred with a part of Harry's and Mr. Sims's passed into Ranald's

"No," said Ranald, "I have done." He put back into his linen bag his one hundred dollars, counted out two

hundred, and gave it to LeNoir, saying: "That is Rouleau's," and threw the rest upon the table. "I want no

"No," said Ranald, as Harry and Mr. Sims put themselves in De Lacy's way, "there is nothing else tonight;

another day, and any day you wish, you can have the other game," and with that he passed out of the room.

The ancient capital of Canadathe old gray queen of the mighty St. Lawrenceis a city of many charms

and of much stately beauty. Its narrow, climbing streets, with their quaint shops and curious gables, its old

market, with chaffering habitant farmers and their wives, are full of living interest. Its noble rock, crowned

with the ancient citadel, and its sweeping tidal river, lend it a dignity and majestic beauty that no other city

knows; and everywhere about its citadel and walls, and venerable, sacred buildings, there still linger the

romance and chivalry of heroic days long gone. But there are times when neither the interests of the living

present nor the charms of the romantic past can avail, and so a shadow lay upon Maimie's beautiful face as

she sat in the parlor of the Hotel de Cheval Blanc, looking out upon the mighty streets and the huddled roofs

"Of whom, may I ask?" said Kate, pausing in her singing, "or is there any need? What says the gallant

"The picnic is postponed. Well, of course the rain told us that; and he is unavoidably prevented from calling,

and entreats your sympathy and commiseration. Well, that's a very nice note, I am sure."

"Where has he been these three days! He might have known it would be stupid, and Harry gives one no

satisfaction." Maimie was undeniably cross. "And Ranald, too," she went on, "where has he been? Not even

your music could bring him!" with a little spice of spite. "I think men are just horrid, anyway."

"Well, what are they good for if not to entertain us? I wish we could do without them! But I do think Ranald

"I, how should I know?" Maimie's innocent blue eyes were wide open with surprise.

"Nonsense," cried Kate, with impatience rare in her, "don't be absurd, Maimie; I am not a child."

"Well," said Kate, deliberately, "I would rather be silly than cruel and unkind."

"Yes." said Kate; "you are not treating Ranald well. You should not encourage him totocare for you

"Oh, Maimie," said Kate, and her voice was low and earnest, "Ranald is not like other men. He does not

understand things. He loves you and he will love you more every day if you let him. Why don't you let him

"Let him go!" cried Maimie, "who's keeping him?" But as she spoke the flush in her cheek and the warm light

in her eye told more clearly than words that she did not mean to let him go just then.

"No, Maimie," said Kate, with sad earnestness, "he loves you; you can see it in the way he looks at you; in his

voice when he speaks andoh, you shouldn't let him unless you mean totogo on. Send him right

"Why, Katie," cried Maimie, looking at her curiously, "what difference does it make to you? And besides,

"De Lacy!" cried Kate, indignantly. "De Lacy can look after himself, but Ranald is different. He is so serious

andand so honest, and he means just what he says, and you are so nice to him, and you look at him in such

"You perhaps don't know," continued Kate, "but you can't help being fascinating to men; you know you are,

and Ranald believes you so, andand you ought to be quite straightforward with him!" Poor Kate could no

"There, now," said Maimie, caressing her friend, not unpleased with Kate's description of her; "I'm going to

be good. I will just be horrid to both of them, and they'll go away! But, oh, dear, things are all wrong! Poor

Ranald," she said to herself, "I wonder if he will come to the picnic on Saturday?"

"Indeed I hope he will not," she said, indignantly, "for I know you mean to just lead him on. I have a mind to

"Now I tell you, Maimie," said Kate, "if you go on with Ranald so any longer I will just tell him you are

"Do," said Maimie, scornfully, "and be careful to make clear to him at the same time that you are speaking

Kate's face flushed red at the insinuation, and then grew pale. She stood for some time looking in silence at

her friend, and then with a proud flash of her dark eyes, she swept from the room without a word, nor did

Maimie see her again that afternoon, though she stood outside her door entreating with tears to be forgiven.

Poor Kate! Maimie's shaft had gone too near a vital spot, and the wound amazed and terrified her. Was it for

Ranald's sake alone she cared? Yes, surely it was. Then why this sharp new pain under the hand pressing hard

Oh, what did that mean? She put her face in her pillow to hide the red that she knew was flaming in her

cheeks, and for a few moments gave herself up to the joy that was flooding her whole heart and soul and all

her tingling veins. Oh, how happy she was. For long she had heard of the Glengarry lad from Maimie and

more from Harry till there had grown up in her heart a warm, admiring interest. And now she had come to

know him for herself! How little after all had they told her of him. What a man he was! How strong and how

fearless! How truehearted and how his eyes could fill with love! She started up. Love? Love? Ah, where

was her joy! How chill the day had grown and how hateful the sunlight on the river. She drew down the blind

and threw herself once more upon the bed, shivering and sick with painthe bitterest that heart can know.

"She is not worthy of him!" she exclaimed, aloud; "her heart is not deep enough; she does not, cannot love

She would tell him herself. No! No! Maimie's sharp arrow was quivering still in her heart. Once more she

threw herself upon the bed. How could she bear this that had stricken her? She would go home. She would go

to her mother tomorrow. Go away forever from ahcould she? No, anything but that! She could not go

Over the broad river the warm sunlight lay with kindly glow, and the world was full of the soft, sweet air of

spring, and the songs of mating birds; but the hours passed, and over the river the shadows began to creep,

and the whole world grew dark, and the songs of the birds were hushed to silence. Then, from her room, Kate

came down with face serene, and but for the eyes that somehow made one think of tears, without a sign of the

storm that had swept her soul. She did not go home. She was too brave for that. She would stay and fight her

That was a dreary week for Ranald. He was lonely and heartsick for the woods and for his home and friends,

but chiefly was he oppressed with the sense of having played the fool in his quarrel with De Lacy, whom he

was beginning to admire and like. He surely might have avoided that; and yet whenever he thought of the

game that had swept away from Rouleau all his winter's earnings, and of the cruel blow that had followed, he

felt his muscles stiffen and his teeth set tight in rage. No, he would do it all again, nor would he retreat one

single step from the position he had taken, but would see his quarrel through to the end. But worst of all he

had not seen Maimie all the week. His experience with Harry in the ordering of his suit had taught him the

importance of clothes, and he now understood as he could not before, Maimie's manner to him. "That would

be it," he said to himself, "and no wonder. What would she do with a great, coarse tyke like me!" Then, in

spite of all his loyalty, he could not help contrasting with Maimie's uncertain and doubtful treatment of him,

the warm, frank friendliness of Kate. "SHE did not mind my clothes," he thought, with a glow of gratitude,

but sharply checking himself, he added, "but why should she care?" It rather pleased him to think that

Maimie cared enough to feel embarrassed at his rough dress. So he kept away from the Hotel de Cheval

Blanc till his new suit should be ready. It was not because of his dress, however, that he steadily refused

"No, I will not go," he said, with blunt decision, after listening to Harry's pleading. "It is Lieutenant De

Lacy's picnic, and I will have nothing to do with him, and indeed he will not be wanting me!"

"I guess he hasn't remembered much of anything for the last week," said Harry, with a slight laugh.

"Huh!" grunted Ranald, contemptuously. He had little respect for a man who did not know when he had had

"His job? Oh, I see. His job doesn't worry him much. He's absent on sickleave. But he's all fit again and I

"I will not go," said Ranald, with final decision, "and you can tell him so, and you can tell him why."

And Harry did tell him with considerable fullness and emphasis not only of Ranald's decision, but also

Ranald's opinion of him, for he felt that it would do that lordly young man no harm to know that a man whom

he was inclined to patronize held him in contempt and for cause. The lieutenant listened for a time to all

Harry had to say with apparent indifference, then suddenly interrupting him, he said: "Oh, I say, old chap, I

wouldn't rub it in if I were you. I have a more or less vague remembrance of having rather indulged in

heroics. One can't keep his head with poker and unlimited brandy andsodas; they don't go together. It's a

thing I almost never do; never in a big game, but the thing got interesting before I knew. But I say, that

Glengarry chap plays a mighty good game. Must get him on again. Feels hot, eh? I will make that all right,

and what's the French chap's nameBoileau, Rondeau, eh? Rouleau. Yes, and where could one see him?"

"I can find out from LeNoir, who will be somewhere near Ranald. You can't get him away from him."

"Well, do," said the lieutenant, lazily. "Bring LeNoir to see me. I owe that Rouleau chap an apology. Beastly

business! And I'll fix it up with Macdonald. He has the right of it, by Jove! Rather lucky, I fancy, he didn't

yield to my solicitations for a try at the other gamefrom what I remember of the street riot, eh? Would not

mind having a go with him with the gloves, though. I will see him tomorrow morning. Keep your mind at

Next morning when LeNoir came to his work he was full of the lieutenant's praises to Ranald.

"Das fine feller le Capitaine, eh? Das de Grand Seigneur for sure! He's mak eet all right wit Rouleau! He's

pay de cash money and he's mak eet de good posish for him, an' set him up the champagne, too, by gar!"

"Huh," grunted Ranald. "Run that crib around the boom there LeNoir; break it up and keep your gang moving

But however unwilling Ranald was to listen to LeNoir singing the lieutenant's praises, when he met Harry at

noon in the office he was even more enthusiastic than LeNoir in his admiration of De Lacy.

"I never saw the likes of him," he said. "He could bring the birds out of the trees with that tongue of his.

Indeed, I could not have done what he did whatever. Man, but he is a gentleman!"

"That I am," said Ranald. "What else could I do? I could not help myself; he made me feel that mean that I

"All right," said Harry, delighted, "I will take my canoe around for you after six."

"And," continued Ranald, with a little hesitation, "he told me he would be wearing a jersey and duck trousers,

Ranald looked at him curiously for a moment, and said: "A swallow tail, perhaps, or a blanket, maybe," and

Soon after six, Harry paddled around in his canoe, and gave the stern to Ranald. What a joy it was to him to

be in a canoe stern again; to feel the rush of the water under his knees; to have her glide swiftly on her

soundless way down the fullbosomed, sunbathed river; to see her put her nose into the little waves and

gently, smoothly push them asunder with never a splash or swerve; to send her along straight and true as an

arrow in its flight, and then flip! flip to swing her off a floating log or around an awkward boat lumbering

with clumsy oars. That was to be alive again. Oh, the joy of it! Of all things that move to the will of man

there is none like the canoe. It alone has the sweet, smooth glide, the swift, silent dart answering the paddle

sweep; the quick swerve in response to the turn of the wrist. Ranald felt as if he could have gladly paddled on

right out to the open sea; but sweeping around a bend a long, clear call hailed them, and there, far down at the

bottom of a little bay, at the foot of the big, scarred, and wrinkled rock the smoke and glimmer of the

campfire could be seen. A flip of the stern paddle, and the canoe pointed for the waving figure, and under

the rhythmic sweep of the paddles, sped like an arrow down the waters, sloping to the shore. There, on a great

"Here's a good landing," she cried. Right at the rock dashed the canoe at full speed. A moment more and her

dainty nose would be battered out of all shape on the cruel rock, but a strong back stroke, a turn of the wrist,

"Well done, by Jove!" exclaimed the lieutenant, who was himself an expert with the paddle.

"And I am quite sure," answered Harry, "you have no suspicion of what a beautiful picture you all make."

And a beautiful picture it was: the great rocky cliff in the background, tricked out in its new spring green of

moss and shrub and tree; the grassy plot at its foot where a little stream gurgled out from the rock; the blazing

campfire with the little group about it; and in front the sunlit river. How happy they all were! And how

ready to please and to be pleased. Even little Mr. Sims had his charm. And at the making of the tea, which

Kate had taken in charge with Ranald superintending, what fun there was with burning of fingers and

upsetting of kettles! And then, the talk and the laughter at the lieutenant's brilliant jokes, and the chaffing of

the "lumbermen" over their voracious appetites! It was an hour of nevertobeforgotten pleasure. They

were all children again, and with children's hearts were happy in childhood's simple joys. And why not?

There are no joys purer than those of the open air; of grass and trees flooded with the warm light and sweet

scents of the soft springtime. Too soon it all came to an end, and then they set off to convoy the stately old

lady to her carriage at the top of the cliff. Far in front went Kate, disdaining the assistance of Harry and Mr.

Sims, who escorted her. Near at hand the lieutenant was in attendance upon Maimie, who seemed to need his

constant assistance; for the way was rough, and there were so many jutting points of rock for wonderful

views, and often the very prettiest plants were just out of reach. Last of all came Madame De Lacy, climbing

the steep path with difficulty and holding fast to Ranald's arm. With charming grace she discoursed of the

brave days of old in which her ancestors had played a worthy part. An interesting tale it was, but in spite of

all her charm of speech, and grace of manner, Ranald could not keep his mind from following his heart and

eyes that noted every step and move of the beautiful girl, flitting in and out among the trees before them. And

well it was that his eyes were following so close; for, as she was reaching for a dainty spray of golden birch,

holding by the lieutenant's hand, the treacherous moss slipped from under Maimie's feet, and with a piercing

shriek she went rolling down the sloping mountainside, dragging her escort with her. Like a flash of light

Ranald dropped madame's arm, and seizing the top of a tall birch that grew up from the lower ledge, with a

trick learned as a boy in the Glengarry woods, he swung himself clear over the edge, and dropping lightly on

the mossy bank below, threw himself in front of the rolling bodies, and seizing them held fast. In another

moment leaving the lieutenant to shift for himself, Ranald was on his knees beside Maimie, who lay upon the

moss, white and still. "Some water, for God's sake!" he cried, hoarsely, to De Lacy, who stood dazed beside

him, and then, before the lieutenant could move, Ranald lifted Maimie in his arms, as if she had been an

infant, and bore her down to the river's edge, and laid her on the grassy bank. Then, taking up a double

handful of water, he dashed it in her face. With a little sigh she opened her eyes, and letting them rest upon

his face, said, gently, "Oh, Ranald, I am so glad youI am so sorry I have been so bad to you." She could

say no more, but from her closed eyes two great tears made their way down her pale cheeks.

"Oh, Maimie, Maimie," said Ranald, in a broken voice, "tell me you are not hurt."

Again she opened her eyes and said, "No, I am not hurt, but you will take me home; you will not leave me!"

In a few minutes she was able to sit up, and soon they were all about her, exclaiming and lamenting.

"What a silly girl I am," she said, with a little tremulous laugh, "and what a fright I must have given you all!"

"Oh, I am quite right," said Maimie, confidently; "I am sure I am not hurt in the least."

"Thank God!" said Harry fervently; "I guess you're improving," at which they all laughed.

"Now I think we must get home," said Madame De Lacy. "Do you think you can walk, Maimie?"

"Oh, yes," cried Maimie, and taking Ranald's hand, she tried to stand up, but immediately sank back with a

"Let me see!" cried Harry. "I don't think it is broken," he said, after feeling it carefully, "but I have no doubt it

"Then we shall have to carry her," said Madame De Lacy, and she turned to her son.

"I fear I can offer no assistance," said the lieutenant, pointing to his arm which was hanging limp at his side.

"Why, Albert, are you hurt? What is the matter? You are hurt!" cried his mother, anxiously.

"Say nothing," whispered the lieutenant to him. "It's broken. Tie it up some way." Without a word Ranald

stripped the bark of a birch tree, and making a case, laid the arm in it and bound it firmly with his silk

Kate took the scarf, and while Ranald held the arm in place she deftly made it into a sling.

"Quite right," said the lieutenant. "Sims, perhaps you will give my mother your arm, and if Miss Kate will be

kind enough to escort me, we can all four go in the carriage; but first we shall see the rest of the party safely

"Put your arm about his neck, Maimie," cried Harry, "you will go more comfortably that way. Ranald won't

At the touch of her clinging arms the blood mounted slowly into Ranald's neck and face, showing red through

"How strong you are," said Maimie, softly, "and how easily you carry me. But you would soon tire of me,"

"I would not tire forever," said Ranald, as he laid her gently down in the canoe.

"I shall send the carriage to the wharf for you," said Madame De Lacy, "and you will come right home to me,

Ranald took his place in the stern with Maimie reclining in the canoe so as to face him.

"You are sure you are comfortable," he said, with anxious solicitude in his tone.

"Quite," she replied, with a cosy little snuggle down among the cushions placed around her.

"Good by," cried Kate, waving her hand at them from the rock. "We'll meet you at the wharf. Take good care

With hardly a glance at her Ranald replied: "You may be sure of that," and with a long, swinging stroke shot

the canoe out into the river. For a moment or two Kate stood looking after them, and then, with a weary look

in her face, turned, and with the lieutenant, followed Madame De Lacy and Mr. Sims.

The paddle home was all too short to Ranald, but whether it took minutes or hours he could not have told. As

in a dream he swung his paddle and guided his canoe. He saw only the beautiful face and the warm light in

the bright eyes before him. He woke to see Kate on the wharf before them, and for a moment he wondered

how she came there. Once more, as he bore her from the canoe to the carriage, he felt Maimie's arms clinging

about his neck and heard her whisper, "You will not leave me, Ranald," and again he replied, "No, I will not

Swiftly the De Lacy carriage bore them through the crooked, climbing streets of the city and out along the

country road, then up a stately avenue of beeches, and drew up before the stone steps, of a noble old chateau.

Once more Ranald lifted Maimie in his arms and carried her up the broad steps, and through the great oak

paneled hall into Madame De Lacy's own cosy sittingroom, and there he laid her safely in a snug nest of

cushions prepared for her. There was nothing more to do, but to say good by and come away, but it was

"Good by, Ranald," said Maimie, smiling up into his face. "I cannot thank you for all you have done today,

"I shall be always glad to see you," said the little lady, with gentle, oldfashioned courtesy, "for we both owe

"Thank you," said Ranald, quietly, "I will come," and passed out of the room, followed by Harry and Kate.

At the great hall door, Kate stood and watched them drive away, waving her hand in farewell.

"Good by," cried Harry, "don't forget us in your stately palace," but Ranald made no reply. He had no thought

for her. But still she stood and watched the carriage till the beeches hid it from her view, and then, with her

As the carriage rolled down the stately avenue, Ranald sat absorbed in deepest thought, heeding not his

"What's the matter with you, Ranald? What are you thinking of?" at last cried Harry, impatiently.

"What?" answered Ranald, in strange confusion, "I cannot tell you." Unconsciously as he spoke he put up his

hand to his neck, for he was still feeling the pressure of those clinging arms, and all the way back the sounds

of the rolling wheels and noisy, rattling streets wrought themselves into one sweet refrain, "You will not

leave me, Ranald," and often in his heart he answered, "No, I will not," with such a look on his face as men

The Albert was by all odds the exclusive club in the capital city of upper Canada, for men were loath to drop

the old name. Its members belonged to the best families, and moved in the highest circles, and the entre was

guarded by a committee of exceeding vigilance. They had a very real appreciation of the rights and privileges

of their order, and they cherished for all who assayed to enter the most lofty ideal. Not wealth alone could

purchase entrance within those sacred precincts unless, indeed, it were of sufficient magnitude and distributed

with judicious and unvulgar generosity. A tinge of blue in the common red blood of humanity commanded

the most favorable consideration, but when there was neither cerulean tinge of blood nor gilding of station the

candidate for membership in the Albert was deemed unutterable in his presumption, and rejection absolute

and final was inevitable. A single black ball shut him out. So it came as a surprise to most outsiders, though

not to Ranald himself, when that young gentleman's name appeared in the list of accepted members in the

Albert. He had been put up by both Raymond and St. Clair, but not even the powerful influence of these

sponsors would have availed with the members had it not come to be known that young Macdonald was a

friend of Captain De Lacy's of Quebec, don't you know! and a sport, begad, of the first water; for the Alberts

favored athletics, and loved a true sport almost as much as they loved a lord. They never regretted their

generous concession in this instance, for during the three years of his membership, it was the Glengarry

Macdonald that had brought glory to their club more than any half dozen of their other champions. In their

finals with the Montrealers two years ago, it was he, the prince of all Canadian halfbacks, as every one

acknowledged, who had snatched victory from the exultant enemy in the last quarter of an hour. Then, too,

they had never ceased to be grateful for the way in which he had delivered the name of their club from the

reproach cast upon it by the challenge long flaunted before their aristocratic noses by the cads of the Athletic,

when he knocked out in a bout with the gloves, the chosen representative of that illfavored cluba

True, there were those who thought him too particular, and undoubtedly he had peculiar ideas. He never

drank, never played for money, and he never had occasion to use words in the presence of men that would be

impossible before their mothers and sisters; and there was a quaint, oldtime chivalry about him that made

him a friend of the weak and helpless, and the champion of women, not only of those whose sheltered lives

had kept them fair and pure, but of those others as well, sadeyed and soulstained, the cruel sport of lustful

men. For his open scorn of their callous lust some hated him, but all with true men's hearts loved him.

"Glengarry, by all the gods!" throwing down his cue, and rushing at Ranald. "Where in this lonely universe

have you been these many months, and how are you, old chap?" Merrill was excited.

"Right, so help me" exclaimed Merrill, solemnly, lifting up his hand. "He's inquiring after my morals," he

explained to the men who were crowding about; "and I don't give a blank blank who knows it," continued

little Merrill, warmly, "my present magnificent manhood," smiting himself on the breast, "I owe to that same

"You will, eh?" cried Merrill, looking at him. "Look at him vaunting his beastly fitness over the frail and

weak. I say, men, did you ever behold such condition! See that clear eye, that velvety skin, thatOh, I say!

"There," said Ranald, putting him down from the billiardtable, "perhaps you will learn when to be seen."

"Brute," murmured little Merrill, rubbing the sore place; "but ain't he fit?" he added, delightedly. And fit he

looked. Four years of hard work and clean living had done for him everything that it lies in years to do. They

had made of the lank, raw, shanty lad a man, and such a man as a sculptor would have loved to behold.

Straight as a column he stood two inches over six feet, but of such proportions that seeing him alone, one

would never have guessed his height. His head and neck rose above his square shoulders with perfect

symmetry and poise. His dark face, tanned now to a bronze, with features clearcut and strong, was lit by a

pair of dark brown eyes, honest, fearless, and glowing with a slumbering fire that men would hesitate to stir

to flame. The lines of his mouth told of selfcontrol, and the cut of his chin proclaimed a will of iron, and

altogether, he bore himself with an air of such quiet strength and cool selfconfidence that men never feared

to follow where he led. Yet there was a reserve about him that set him a little apart from men, and a kind of

shyness that saved him from any suspicion of selfassertion. In vain he tried to escape from the crowd that

gathered about him, and more especially from the football men, who utterly adored him.

"You can't do anything for a fellow that doesn't drink," complained Starry Hamilton, the big captain of the

"Drink! a nice captain you are, Starry," said Ranald, "and Thanksgiving so near."

"Then I suppose a cigar is permitted," replied Ranald, ordering the steward to bring his best. In a few minutes

he called for his mail, and excusing himself, slipped into one of the private rooms. The manager of the

Raymond St. Clair Company and prominent clubman, much sought after in social circles, he was bound to

find letters of importance awaiting him, but hastily shuffling the bundle, he selected three, and put the rest in

"So she's back," he said to himself, lifting up one in a square envelope, addressed in large, angular writing.

He turned it over in his hand, feasting his eyes upon it, as a boy holds a peach, prolonging the blissful

MY DEAR RANALD: All the way home I was hoping that on my return, fresh from the "stately homes of

England," and from association with lords and dukes and things, you would be here to receive your share of

the luster and aroma my presence would shed (that's a little mixed, I fear); but with a most horrible

indifference to your privileges you are away at the earth's end, no one knows where. Father said you were to

be home today, so though you don't in the least deserve it, I am writing you a note of forgiveness; and will

you be sure to come to my special party tomorrow night? I put it off till tomorrow solely on your account,

and in spite of Aunt Frank, and let me tell you that though I have seen such heaps of nice men, and all

properly dear and devoted, still I want to see you, so you must come. Everything else will keep. Yours,

Over and over again he read the letter, till the fire in his eyes began to gleam and his face became radiant with

"'Yours, Maimie,' eh? I wonder now what she means," he mused. "Seven years and for my life I don't know

yet, but tomorrow night yes, tomorrow night, I will know!" He placed the letter in its envelope and put

it carefully in his inside pocket. "Now for Kate, dear old girl, no better anywhere." He opened his letter and

DEAR RANALD: What a lot of people will be delighted to see you back! First, dear old Dr. Marshall, who is

in despair over the Institute, of which he declares only a melancholy ruin will be left if you do not speedily

return. Indeed, it is pretty bad. The boys are quite terrible, and even my "angels" are becoming infected. Your

special pet, Coley, after reducing poor Mr. Locke to the verge of nervous prostration, has "quit," and though I

have sought him in his haunts, and used my very choicest blandishments, he remains obdurate. To my

remonstrances, he finally deigned to reply: "Naw, they ain't none of 'em any good no more; them ducks is too

pious for me." I don't know whether you will consider that a compliment or not. So the Institute and all its

people will welcome you with acclaims of delight and sighs of relief. And some one else whom you adore,

and who adores you, will rejoice to see you. I have begged her from Maimie for a few precious days. But

P. S.Of course you will be at the party tomorrow night. Maimie looks lovelier than ever, and she will be

"What a trump she is," murmured Ranald; "unselfish, honest to the core, and steady as a rock. 'Some one else

whom you adore.' Who can that be? By Jove, is it possible? I will go right up tonight."

His last letter was from Mr. St. Clair, who was the chief executive of the firm. He glanced over it hurriedly,

then with a curious blending of surprise, perplexity, and dismay on his face, he read it again with careful

MY DEAR RANALD: Welcome home! We shall all be delighted to see you. Your letter from North Bay,

which reached me two days ago, contained information that places us in rather an awkward position. Last

May, just after you left for the north, Colonel Thorp, of the BritishAmerican Coal and Lumber Company,

operating in British Columbia and Michigan, called to see me, and made an offer of $75,000 for our Bass

River limits. Of course you know we are rather anxious to unload, and at first I regarded his offer with favor.

Soon afterwards I received your first report, sent apparently on your way up. I thereupon refused Colonel

Thorp's offer. Then evidently upon the strength of your report, which I showed him, Colonel Thorp, who by

the way is a very fine fellow, but a very shrewd business man, raised his offer to an even hundred thousand.

This offer I feel inclined to accept. To tell you the truth, we have more standing timber than we can handle,

and as you know, we are really badly crippled for ready money. It is a little unfortunate that your last report

should be so much less favorable in regard to the east half of the limits. However, I don't suppose there is any

need of mentioning that to Colonel Thorp, especially as his company are getting a good bargain as it is, and

one which of themselves, they could not possibly secure from the government. I write you this note in case

you should run across Colonel Thorp in town tomorrow, and inadvertently say something that might

complicate matters. I have no doubt that we shall be able to close the deal in a few days.

Now I want to say again how delighted we all are to have you back. We never realized how much we were

dependent upon you. Mr. Raymond and I have been talking matters over, and we have agreed that some

changes ought to be made, which I venture to say will not be altogether disagreeable to you. I shall see you

Maimie has got home, and is, I believe, expecting you at her party tomorrow night. Indeed, I understand she

was determined that it should not come off until you had returned, which shows she shares the opinion of the

Ranald sat staring at the letter for a long time. He saw with perfect clearness Mr. St. Clair's meaning, and a

sense of keen humiliation possessed him as he realized what it was that he was expected to do. But it took

some time for the full significance of the situation to dawn upon him. None knew better than he how

important it was to the firm that this sale should be effected. The truth was if the money market should

become at all close the firm would undoubtedly find themselves in serious difficulty. Ruin to the company

meant not only the blasting of his own prospects, but misery to her whom he loved better than life; and after

all, what he was asked to do was nothing more than might be done any day in the world of business. Every

buyer is supposed to know the value of the thing he buys, and certainly Colonel Thorp should not commit his

company to a deal involving such a large sum of money without thoroughly informing himself in regard to

the value of the limits in question, and when he, as an employee of the Raymond and St. Clair Lumber

Company, gave in his report, surely his responsibility ceased. He was not asked to present any incorrect

report; he could easily make it convenient to be absent until the deal was closed. Furthermore, the chances

were that the British American Coal and Lumber Company would still have good value for their money, for

the west half of the limits was exceptionally good; and besides, what right had he to besmirch the honor of

his employer, and to set his judgment above that of a man of much greater experience? Ranald understood

also Mr. St. Clair's reference to the changes in the firm, and it gave him no small satisfaction to think that in

four years he had risen from the position of lumber checker to that of manager, with an offer of a partnership;

nor could he mistake the suggestion in Mr. St. Clair's closing words. Every interest he had in life would be

furthered by the consummation of the deal, and would be imperiled by his refusing to adopt Mr. St. Clair's

suggestion. Still, argue as he might, Ranald never had any doubt as to what, as a man of honor, he ought to

do. Colonel Thorp was entitled to the information that he and Mr. St. Clair alone possessed. Between his

"I wish I knew what I ought to do," he groaned, all the time battling against the conviction that the

information he possessed should by rights be given to Colonel Thorp. Finally, in despair of coming to a

decision, he seized his hat, saying, "I will go and see Kate," and slipping out of a side door, he set off for the

Raymond home. "I will just look up Coley on the way," he said to himself, and diving down an alley, he

entered a low saloon with a billiard hall attached. There, as he had expected, acting as marker, he found

Mike Cole, or Coley, as his devoted followers called him, was king of St. Joseph's ward. Everywhere in the

ward his word ran as law. About two years ago Coley had deigned to favor the Institute with a visit, his gang

following him. They were welcomed with demonstrations of joy, and regaled with cakes and tea, all of which

Coley accepted with lordly condescension. After consideration, Coley decided that the night classes might

afford a not unpleasant alternative on cold nights, to alleyways and saloons, and he allowed the gang to join.

Thenceforth the successful conduct of the classes depended upon the ability of the superintendent to

anticipate Coley's varying moods and inclinations, for that young man claimed and exercised the privilege of

introducing features agreeable to the gang, though not necessarily upon the regular curriculum of study. Some

time after Ranald's appearance in the Institute as an assistant, it happened one night that a sudden illness of

the superintendent laid upon his shoulders the responsibility of government. The same night it also happened

that Coley saw fit to introduce the enlivening but quite impromptu feature of a song and dance. To this

Ranald objected, and was invited to put the gang out if he was man enough. After the ladies had withdrawn

beyond the reach of missiles, Ranald adopted the unusual tactics of preventing exit by locking the doors, and

then immediately became involved in a discussion with Coley and his followers. It cost the Institute

something for furniture and windows, but thenceforth in Ranald's time there was peace. Coley ruled as

before, but his sphere of influence was limited, and the day arrived when it became the ambition of Coley's

life to bring the ward and its denizens into subjection to his own overlord, whom he was prepared to follow

to the death. But like any other work worth doing, this took days and weeks and months.

"Hello, Coley!" said Ranald, as his eyes fell upon his sometime ally and slave. "If you are not too busy I

"Come along," said Ranald, quietly, and Coley, knowing that anything but obedience was impossible,

"Well, Coley, I have had a great summer," began Ranald, "and I wish very much you could have been with

me. It would have built you up and made a man of you. Just feel that," and he held out his arm, which Coley

felt with admiring reverence. "That's what the canoe did," and then he proceeded to give a graphic account of

his varied adventures by land and water during the last six months. As they neared Mr. Raymond's house,

Ranald turned to Coley and said: "Now I want you to cut back to the Institute and tell Mr. Locke, if he is

there, that I would like him to call around at my office to morrow. And furthermore, Coley, there's no need

of your going back into that saloon. I was a little ashamed to see one of my friends in a place like that. Now,

Coley stood with his head hung in abject selfabasement, and then ventured to say, "I couldn't stand them

"Now look here, Coley," said Ranald, "I wouldn't go throwing stones at better men than yourself, and

especially at men who are trying to do something to help other people and are not so beastly mean as to think

only of their own pleasure. I didn't expect that of you, Coley. Now quit it and start again," and Ranald turned

Coley stood looking after him for a few moments in silence, and then said to himself, in a voice full of

emphasis: "Well, there's just one of his kind and there ain't any other." Then he set out at a run for the

"I knew it was you," she cried, with her hand eagerly outstretched and her face alight with joy. "Come in, we

are all waiting for you, and prepare to be surprised." When they came to the drawing room she flung open

the door and with great ceremony announced "The man from Glengarry, as Harry would say."

"Hello, old chap!" cried Harry, springing to his feet, but Ranald ignored him. He greeted Kate's mother

warmly for she had shown him a mother's kindness ever since he had come to the city, and they were great

friends, and then he turned to Mrs. Murray, who was standing waiting for him, and gave her both his hands.

"I knew from Kate's letter," he said, "that it would be you, and I cannot tell you how glad I am." His voice

grew a little unsteady and he could say no more. Mrs. Murray stood holding his hands and looking into his

"It cannot be possible," she said, "that this is Ranald Macdonald! How changed you are!" She pushed him a

little back from her. "Let me look at you; why, I must say it, you are really handsome!"

"Now, auntie," cried Harry, reprovingly, "don't flatter him. He is utterly ruined now by every one, including

"But really, Harry," continued Mrs. Murray, in a voice of delighted surprise, "it is certainly wonderful; and I

am so glad! And I have been hearing about your work with the boys at the Institute, and I cannot tell you the

"Indeed, it is a noble work and worthy of any man," said Mrs. Murray, earnestly, "and I thank God for you."

"Then," said Ranald, firmly, "I owe it all to yourself, for it is you that set me on this way."

Then they began talking about Glengarry, of the old familiar places, of the woods and the fields, of the boys

and girls now growing into men and women, and of the old people, some of whom were passed away. Before

long they were talking of the church and all the varied interests centering in it, but soon they went back to the

theme that Glengarry people everywhere are never long together without discussingthe great revival. Harry

had heard a good deal about it before, but to Kate and her mother the story was mostly new, and they listened

with eager interest as Mrs. Murray and Ranald recalled those great days. With eyes shining, and in tones of

humble, grateful wonder they reminded each other of the various incidents, the terrors, the struggles, the

joyful surprises, the mysterious powers with which they were so familiar during those eighteen months. Then

Mrs. Murray told of the permanent results; how over three counties the influence of the movement was still

"And did you hear," she said to Ranald, "that Donald Stewart was ordained last May?"

"Seven men preaching the Gospel today out of our own congregation," replied Mrs. Murray.

"But, auntie," cried Harry, "I have always thought that all that must have been awfully hard work."

"It was," said Ranald, emphatically; and he went on to sketch Mrs. Murray's round of duties in her various

"Besides what she has to do in the manse!" exclaimed Harry; "but it's a mere trifle, of course, to look after her

"It isn't so terrible as Harry thinks. That's my work, you see, said Mrs. Murray; "what else would I do? And

"But, auntie, don't you feel sometimes like getting away and having a little fun? Own up, now."

"Well, not fun exactly, but a good time with things you enjoy so much, music, literature, and that sort of

thing. Do you remember, Kate, the first time you met auntie, when we took her to Hamlet?"

"She wasn't quite sure about it, but I declare till I die I will never forget the wonder and the delight in her

face. I tell you I wept that night, but not at the play. And how she criticised the actors; even Booth himself

didn't escape," continued Harry; "and so I say it's a beastly shame that you should spend your whole life in

the backwoods there and have so little of the other sort of thing. Why you are made for it!"

"Harry," answered Mrs. Murray, in surprise, "that was my work, given me to do. Could I refuse it? And

besides after all, fun, as you say, passes; music stops; books get done with; but those other things, the things

"Yes, I get tired," she replied, quietly. At the little touch of weariness in the voice, Kate, who was looking at

the beautiful face, so spiritual, and getting, oh, so frail, felt a sudden rush of tears in her eyes. But there was

no selfpity in that heroic soul. "Yes, I get tired," she repeated, "but, Harry, what does that matter? We do our

work and then we will rest. But oh, Harry, my boy, when I come to your city and see all there is to do, I wish

Harry, like other young men, hated to be lectured, but from his aunt he never took anything amiss. He

admired her for her brilliant qualities, and loved her with a love near to worship.

"I say, auntie," he said, with a little uncertain laugh, "it's like going to church to hear you, only it's a deal

"But, Harry, am I not right?" she replied, earnestly. "Do you think that you will get the best out of your life

by just having fun? Oh, do you know when I went with Kate to the Institute the other night and saw those

boys my heart ached. I thought of my own boys, and" The voice ceased in a pathetic little catch, the

sensitive lips trembled, the beautiful graybrown eyes filled with sudden tears. For a few moments there was

silence; then, with a wavering smile, and a gentle, apologetic air, she said: "But I must not make Harry think

"Dear Aunt Murray," cried Harry, "do lecture me. I'd enjoy it, and you can't make it too strong. You are just

an angel." He left his seat, and going over to her chair, knelt down and put his arms about her.

But with the bright, joyous little laugh Ranald knew so well, she smoothed back Harry's hair, and kissing him

on the forehead, said: "I am sure you will do good work some day. But I shall be quite spoiled here; I must

As Ranald left the Raymond house he knew well what he should say to Mr. St. Clair next morning. He

wondered at himself that he had ever been in doubt. He had been for an hour in another world where the

atmosphere was pure and the light clear. Never till that night had he realized the full value of that life of

patient self sacrifice, so unconscious of its heroism. He understood then, as never before, the mysterious

influence of that gentle, sweetfaced lady over every one who came to know her, from the simple, uncultured

girls of the Indian Lands to the young men about town of Harry's type. Hers was the power of one who sees

with open eyes the unseen, and who loves to the forgetting of self those for whom the Infinite love poured

"Yes, right home; don't want to go anywhere else tonight. I say, old chap, you're a better and cleaner man

than I am, but it ain't your fault. That woman ought to make a saint out of any man."

"Man, you would say so if you knew her," said Ranald, with a touch of impatience; "but then no one does

know her. They certainly don't down in the Indian Lands, for they don't know what she's given up."

"That's the beauty of it," replied Harry; "she doesn't feel it that way. Given up? not she! She thinks she's got

When they came to Harry's door Ranald lingered just a moment. "Come in a minute," said Harry.

"Oh, come along just now. Aunt Frank is in bed, but Maimie will be up," said Harry, dragging him along to

"No, I think not tonight." While they were talking the door opened and Maimie appeared.

"Ranald," she cried, in an eager voice, "I knew you would be at Kate's, and I was pretty sure you would come

"Go away in and talk to her," said Maimie. Then turning to Ranald and looking into his devouring eyes, she

said, "Well? You might say you're glad to see me." She stood where the full light of the doorway revealed the

"Glad to see you! There is no need of saying that," replied Ranald, still gazing at her.

"And I shall be very busy looking after my guests. Still," she added, noticing the disappointment in his face,

"Will you?" said Ranald, coming close to her, with the old imperative in his voice.

"I have kept my word," said Ranald, "and I am coming tomorrow night. Oh, Maimie, it has been a long,

long time." He came close to her and caught her hand, the slumbering fire in his eyes blazing now in flame.

"Don't, don't, I'm sure there's Aunt Frank. No, no," she pleaded, in terror, "not tonight, Ranald!"

"Yes, yes, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. My hand is quite sore. There, now, good night. No, I won't

"The night for dreaming, but the morn for seeing." And so Ranald found it; for with the cold, calm light of

the morning, he found himself facing his battle with small sense of victory in his blood. He knew he had to

deal that morning with the crisis of his life. Upon the issue his whole future would turn, but his heart without

haste or pause preserved its even beat. The hour of indecision had passed. He saw his way and he meant to

walk it. What was beyond the turn was hid from his eyes, but with that he need not concern himself now.

Meantime he would clear away some of this accumulated correspondence lying on his desk. In the midst of

"No," said Harry, "I can't spare it, but it's safer with you than with me, and besides, it's yours. And I owe you

more than money." He drew a deep breath to steady himself, and then went on: "And I want to say, Ranald,

"Now that's the best thing I've heard for some time," he said, offering Harry his hand; "and that's the last of

He sat down, drew in his chair, and turning over his papers with a nervousness that he rarely showed, he

continued: "And, Harry, I want you to do something for me. Before you go home this afternoon, will you

"Wait a moment. I want to prevent all possibility of mistake. There may be a reply, and Harry, old chap, I'd

Harry gazed at him a moment in perplexity. "All right, Ranald," he said, quietly, "you can trust me. I haven't

"Thanks, old fellow," said Ranald, "I will never give you reason to change your opinion. Now get out; I'm

For some minutes after Harry had left the room Ranald sat gazing before him into space.

"Poor chap, he's got his fight, too, but I begin to think he'll win," he said to himself, and once more returned

to his work. He had hardly begun his writing when the inner door of his office opened and Mr. St. Clair came

in. His welcome was kindly and cordial, and Ranald's heart, which had been under strong discipline all

"Fine most of the way. Through May and June the flies were bad, but not so bad as usual, they said, and one

"Never saw anything like it. What a country that is!" cried Ranald, his enthusiasm carrying him away.

"Fishing of all kinds and superb. In those little lonely lakes you get the finest black and white bass, beauties

and so gamy. In the bigger waters, maskalonge and, of course, any amount of pike and pickerel. Then we

were always running up against deer, moose and red, and everywhere we got the scent of bear. Could have

"We must go up some day," replied Mr. St. Clair. "Wish I could get away this fall, but the fact is we are in

Ranald knew well how serious the situation was. "But," continued Mr. St. Clair, "this offer of the

BritishAmerican Lumber and Coal Company is most fortunate, and will be the saving of us. With one

hundred thousand set free we are certain to pull through this season, and indeed, the financial stringency will

rather help than hinder our operations. Really it is most fortunate. Indeed," he added, with a slight laugh, "as

"Yes, no doubt, no doubt," said Mr. St. Clair, hastening to recover the tone, which by his unfortunate

reference to Mrs. Murray, he had lost. The thought of her was not in perfect harmony with purely commercial

considerations. "The fact is," he continued, "that before this offer came I was really beginning to despair. I

"One does not mind for one's self, but when family interests are involvedbut that's all over now, thank

Ranald tried to speak, but his mind refused to suggest words. His silence, however, was enough for Mr. St.

Clair, who, with nervous haste once more changed the theme. "In my note to you last night you got it, I

Ranald felt that he was being crowded against the ropes. He must get to freer fighting ground. "I think before

"Excuse me, I was about to say," interrupted Mr. St. Clair, hastily, "Mr. Raymond and I have felt that we

must strengthen our executive. As you know, he has left this department almost entirely to me, and he now

realizes what I have long felt, that the burden has grown too heavy for one to carry. Naturally we think of

you, and I may say we are more than glad, though it is a very unusual thing in the business world, that we

can, with the fullest confidence, offer you a partnership." Mr. St. Clair paused to allow the full weight of this

Then Ranald pulled himself together. He must break free or the fight would be lost before he had struck a

"I need not say," he began once more, "how greatly gratified I am by this offer, and I feel sure you will

believe that I am deeply grateful." Ranald's voice was low and even, but unknown to himself there was in it a

tone of stern resolve that struck Mr. St. Clair's ear. He knew his manager. That tone meant war. Hastily he

"Yes, yes, we are quite sure of that," he said, with increasing nervousness, "but we are thinking of our own

interests as well as yours. Indeed, I feel sure"here his voice became even more kindly and

confidential"that in advancing your position and prospects we areI am only doing what will bring

myself the greatest satisfaction in the end, for you know, Ranald, Iwe do not regard you as a stranger."

Ranald winced and grew pale. "We my familyhave always felt toward you aswell, in fact, as if you

Mr. St. Clair had delivered his last and deadliest blow and it found Ranald's heart, but with pain blanching his

cheek Ranald stood up determined to end the fight. It was by no means easy for him to strike. Before him he

saw not this man with his ingenious and specious pleadingit would not have been a difficult matter to have

brushed him asidebut he was looking into the blue eyes of the woman he had for seven years loved more

than he loved his life, and he knew that when his blow fell it would fall upon the face that, only a few hours

ago, had smiled upon him, and upon the lips that had whispered to him, "I will remember, Ranald." Yet he

was none the less resolved. With face set and bloodless, and eyes of gleaming fire, he faced the man that

represented what was at once dearest in life and what was most loathsome in conduct.

"Give me a moment, Mr. St. Clair," he said, with a note of authority in his tone. "You have made me an offer

of a position such as I could hardly hope to expect for years to come, but I value it chiefly because it means

you have absolute confidence in me; you believe in my ability and in my integrity. I am determined that you

will never have cause to change your opinion of me. You are about to complete a deal involving a very large

sum of money. I have a report here," tapping his desk, "which you have not yet seen."

"It really doesn't matter!" interjected Mr. St. Clair; "you see, my dear fellow"

"It matters to me. It is a report which not only you ought to have, but which, in justice, the buyer of the Bass

River Limits ought to see. That report, Mr. St. Clair, ought to be given to Colonel Thorp."

"There is only one other thing I would rather not do," said Ranald, in a grave voice, "and that is refuse

"Sir!" exclaimed Mr. St. Clair, "this is outrageous, and I demand an apology or your resignation!"

"Tell Colonel Thorp I cannotah, Colonel Thorp, I am glad to see you. Will you step this way?" opening the

The colonel, a tall, rawboned, typical "Uncle Sam," even to the chin whisker and quid of tobacco, had an

"Yes," he said, helping himself to a chair, "this here's all right. This is your manager, eh?"

"How do you do? Heard about you some," said the colonel, shaking hands with him. "Quite a knocker, I

believe. Well, you rather look like it. Used to do some myself. Been up north, so the boss says. Good country,

"Fine sporting country, Colonel," interrupted St. Clair. "The game, Mr. Macdonald says, come right into your

"Yes, I saw a number of moose and any amount of other deer and, of course, plenty of bear."

"Don't say! How'd you come to leave them? Couldn't have done it myself, by the great Sam! Open timber?"

"All that north country, Colonel," said Mr. St. Clair, "is pretty much the same, I imagine; a little of all kinds."

"Yes, on the west side of the Bass there is plenty of water, a number of small streams and lakes, but"

"Oh, all through that north country, Colonel, you are safe in having a canoe in your outfit," said Mr. St. Clair,

"Lots of water, eh? Just like Maine, ha, ha!" The colonel's quiet chuckle was good to hear.

"Reminds me"here he put his hand into his inside pocket and pulled out a flask, "excuse the glass," he said,

"Don't? Say, by the great Sam, how'd you get through all that wet country? Wall, it will not hurt you to leave

it alone," solemnly winking at St. Clair, and taking a long pull himself. "Good for the breath," he continued,

putting the flask in his pocket. "Now, about those limits of mine, the boss here has been telling you about our

"We've hardly had time to look into anything yet," said Mr. St. Clair; "but if you will step into my office,

Colonel, I have the papers and maps there." Mr. St. Clair's tone was anxious. Once more the colonel shot a

"You have been on the spot, I judge," he said to Ranald, rising and following Mr. St. Clair.

"Wall, come along, you're the map we want, eh? Maps are chiefly for purposes of deception, I have found,

ha, ha! and there ain't none of 'em right," and he held the door for Ranald to enter.

Mr. St. Clair was evidently annoyed. Unfolding a map he laid it out on the table. "This is the place, I believe,"

"No, only in part; the old Salter lines are there, but I had to go away beyond these."

Ranald put his finger on the map, and said: "I struck the Bass River about here, and using that as a base, first

explored the whole west side, for, I should say, about ten miles back from the river."

"Well, we carried some pork and Hudson Bay hard tack and tea, and of course, we could get all the fish and

"Lots of game, eh? Small and big?" The colonel was evidently much interested in this part of Ranald's story.

"It would do you all the good in the world, Colonel," said Mr. St. Clair, heartily. "You must really go up with

"Yes, but how'd you get it to the Bass? These limits, I understand, lie on both sides of the Bass, don't they?"

"On the west side," replied Ranald, "no. There are a number of small streams and lakes which you could

"You see, Colonel," broke in Mr. St. Clair, "that whole country is one network of waterways. Notice the

"Oh, of course," said Mr. St. Clair, hastily, "you will find great differences in different parts of the country."

"Let's see," said the colonel, taking up the map again. "Now how about the camps, Mr. Macdonald, where do

"I have a rough draught here in which the bases for camps are indicated," said Ranald, ignoring the imploring

"Oh, you haven't shown me this," said Mr. St. Clair, taking the draught from Ranald.

"No, not yet, of course. We have hardly had time yet, Colonel, but Mr. Macdonald will make a copy of this

for you and send it in a day or two," replied Mr. St. Clair, folding up the sketch, nervously, and placing it on

"You have got that last report of yours, I suppose," he said, with a swift glance at Mr. St. Clair. That

gentleman's face was pallid and damp; his whole fortune hung on Ranald's reply. It was to him a moment of

Ranald glanced at his face, and paused. Then drawing his lips a little tighter, he said: "Colonel Thorp, my

final report has not yet been handed in. Mr. St. Clair has not seen it. In my judgment" here Mr. St. Clair

leaned his hand hard upon his desk "you are getting full value for your money, but I would suggest that

you go yourself or send your inspector to explore the limits carefully before you complete the deal."

Colonel Thorp, who had been carefully scanning the sketch in his hand, suddenly turned and looked Ranald

The colonel chewed hard for a minute, then turning to Mr. St. Clair, he said: "Wall, Mr. St. Clair, I'll give you

one hundred thousand for your limit; but by the great Sam, I'd give twice the sum for your manager, if he's

for sale! He's a man!" The emphasis on the he was ever so slight, but it was enough. Mr. St. Clair bowed, and

"Wall," said the colonel, "that's settled; and that reminds me," he added, pulling out his flask, "good luck to

He handed the flask to Mr. St. Clair, who eagerly seized it and took a long drink.

"Goes good sometimes," said the colonel, innocently. "Wall, here's lookin' at you," he continued, bowing

toward Ranald; "and by the great Sam, you suit me well! If you ever feel like a change of air, indicate the

"Ah, Colonel," said Mr. St. Clair, who had recovered his easy, pleasant manner, "we can sell limits but not

"No, by the great Sammy," replied the colonel, using the more emphatic form of his oath, "ner buy 'em!

The colonel did not notice Mr. St. Clair's offered hand, but nodding to Ranald, sauntered out of the office,

leaving the two men alone. For a few moments Mr. St. Clair turned over his papers in silence. His face was

"Well, that is a most happy deliverance, Ranald," he said, rubbing his hands. "But what is the matter? You are

"Nonsense, Ranald, we will say no more about that. I was a little hasty. I hope the change I spoke of will go

"I must beg to decline." The words came slowly, sternly from Ranald's white lips.

"I have little doubt you can discover the reason, Mr. St. Clair. A few moments ago, for honorable dealing,

you would have dismissed me. It is impossible that I should remain in your employ."

"Mr. Macdonald, are you serious in this? Do you know what you are doing? Do you know what you are

"Only too well," said Ranald, with lips that began to quiver, "and all the more because of what I must say

further. Mr. St. Clair, I love your daughter. I have loved her for seven years. It is my one desire in life to gain

"And in the same breath," he said at length, "you insult me and ask my permission."

"It is vain to ask your permission, I fear, but it is right that you should know my desire and my purpose."

"You take my daughter out of my house inin spite of my teeth?" Mr. St. Clair could hardly find words.

"I have not spoken to her openly." The blood rose in his dark face. "But I believe she loves me."

"Well, Mr. Macdonald, your confidence is only paralleled by your prodigious insolence."

"I hope not," said Ranald, lowering his head from its proud pose. "I have no desire to be insolent."

Once more Mr. St. Clair looked at him in silence. Then slowly and with quiet emphasis, he said: "Mr.

Macdonald, you are a determined man, but as God lives, this purpose of yours you will never carry out. I

know my daughter, I think, better than you know her, and I tell you," here a slight smile of confidence played

"It shall be as she wills," he said, in a grave, almost sad, voice. "She shall decide," and he passed into his

All day long Ranald toiled at his desk, leaving himself no time for thought. In the late afternoon Harry came

"Thanks, old chap," said Ranald, looking up from his work; "sha'n't be able to come tonight, I am sorry to

"It is quite impossible, Harry," said Ranald, "and I want you to take this note to Maimie. The note will

"Mr. St. Clair and I have had a difference that can never be made right, and tonight I leave the office for

"Leave the office for good? Going to leave us? What the deuce can the office do without you? And what does

it all mean? Come, Ranald, don't be such a confounded sphynx! Why do you talk such rubbish?"

"It is true," said Ranald, "though I can hardly realize it myself; it is absolutely and finally settled; and I say,

old man, don't make it harder for me. You don't know what it means to me to leave this place, andyou,

andall!" In spite of his splendid nerve Ranald's voice shook a little. Harry gazed at him in amazement.

"I will give your note to Maimie," he said, "but you will be back here if I know myself. I'll see father about

"Now, Harry," said Ranald, rising and putting his hand on his shoulder, "you are not going to mix up in this

at all; and for my sake, old chap, don't make any row at home. Promise me," said Ranald again holding him

"Well, I promise," said Harry, reluctantly, "but I'll be hanged if I understand it at all; and I tell you this, that if

"Now you are talking rot, Harry," said Ranald, and sat down again to his desk. Harry went out in a state of

dazed astonishment. Alone Ranald sat in his office writing steadily except that now and then he paused to let

a smile flutter across his stern, set face, as a gleam of sunshine over a rugged rock on a cloudy day. He was

listening to his heart, whose every beat kept singing the refrain, "I love her, I love her; she will come to me!"

At that very moment Maimie was showing her Aunt Murray her London dresses and finery, and recounting

"How lovely, how wonderfully lovely they are," said Mrs. Murray, touching the beautiful fabrics with fond

fingers; "and I am sure they will suit you well, my dear. Have you worn most of them?"

"No, not all. This one I wore the evening I went with the Lord Archers to the Heathcote's ball. Lord

"Yes, indeed," cried Maimie, "and we had a lovely time!" either the memory of that evening brought the

warm blushes to her face, or it may be the thought of what she was about to tell her aunt; "and Captain De

Mrs. Murray sat silent, apparently not knowing what to say, and Maimie stood with the dress in her hands

waiting for her aunt to speak. At length Mrs. Murray said: "You knew Captain De Lacy before, I think."

"Oh, I have known him for a long time, and he's just splendid, auntie, and he's coming to" Maimie paused,

"Do you mean he is going to speak to your father about you, Maimie?" Maimie nodded. "And are you glad?"

"He's very handsome, auntie, and very nice, and he's awfully well connected, and that sort of thing, and when

Maimie dropped the dress, and sitting down upon a low stool, turned her face from her aunt, and looked out

"Oh, I suppose so, auntie," she said. "He's very nice and gentlemanly and I like to be with him"

"Well, I confess I am surprised. I do not know Captain De Lacy, and besides I thought it wasI thought

you" Mrs. Murray paused, while Maimie's face grew hot with fiery blushes, but before she could reply

"Ranald isn't coming!" he exclaimed. "Here's a note for you, Maimie. But what thebut what he means,"

"Not coming?" cried Maimie, the flush fading from her face. "What can he mean?" She opened the note, and

as she read the blood rushed quickly into her face again, and as quickly fled, leaving her pale and trembling.

"He says it is impossible for him to come tonight," said Maimie, putting the note into her bosom.

"Oh, auntie," she cried, "I am so miserable; Ranald is not coming and he saysthere read it." She hurriedly

MY DEAR MAIMIE: It is impossible for me to go to you tonight. Your father and I have had a difference so

serious that I can never enter his house again, but I am writing now to tell you what I meant to tell you

tonight. I love you, Maimie. I love you with all my heart and soul. I have loved you since the night I pulled

"Maimie," said Mrs. Murray, handing her back the note, "I do not think you ought to give me this. That is too

"Oh, I know, auntie, but what can I do? I am so sorry for Ranald! What shall I do, auntie?"

"My dear child, in this neither I nor any one can advise you. You must be true to yourself."

"Oh, I wish I knew what to do!" cried Maimie. "He wants me to tell him" Maimie paused, her face once

"But, Maimie," continued her aunt, "in this matter, as I said before, you must be true to yourself. Do you love

Then Mrs. Murray rose. "Maimie, dear," she said, and her voice was very gentle but very firm, "let me speak

to you for your dear mother's sake. Do not deceive yourself. Do not give your life for anything but love.

Ranald is a noble man and he will be a great man some day, and I love him as my own son, but I would not

have you give yourself to him unless you truly loved him." She did not mention De Lacy's name nor utter a

word in comparison of the two, but listening to her voice, Maimie knew only too well whither her love had

"Yes, Maimie dear, you can bear to do the right, for there is One in whose strength we can do all things."

"It is dinnertime," she announced, "and your father has just come in, Maimie, and we must have dinner over

Maimie rose, and going to the glass, smoothed back her hair. Her Aunt Frances glanced at her face and then

at Mrs. Murray, and as if fearing Maimie's reply, went on hurriedly, "You must look your very best tonight,

and even better tomorrow," she said, smiling, significantly. She came and put her hands on Maimie's

shoulders, and kissing her, said: "Have you told your Aunt Murray who is coming tomorrow? I am sure I'm

very thankful, my dear, you will be very happy. It is an excellent match. Half the girls in town will be wild

with envy. He has written a very manly letter to your father, and I am sure he is a noble fellow, and he has

excellent prospects. But we must hurry down to dinner," she said, turning to Mrs. Murray, who with a look of

"Indeed, from what your father says," cried Aunt Frank, indignantly, "I do not very well see how he could.

"You are not to say that, Aunt Frank," cried Maimie. "Ranald could not be impertinent, and I will not hear it."

Her tone was so haughty and fierce that Aunt Frank thought it wiser to pursue this subject no further.

"Well," she said, as she turned to leave the room, "I'm very glad he has the grace to keep away tonight. He

When the door closed upon her Maimie tore the note from her bosom and pressed it again and again to her

lips: "Oh, Ranald, Ranald," she cried, "I love you! I love you! Oh, why can it not be? Oh, I cannotI cannot

give him up!" She threw herself upon her knees and laid her face in the bed. In a few minutes there came a

tap at the door, and her Aunt Frances's voice was heard, "Maimie, your father has gone down; we must not

delay." The tone was incisive and matteroffact. It said to Maimie, "Now let's have no nonsense. Be a

sensible woman of the world." Maimie rose from her knees. Hastily removing all traces of tears from her

face, and glancing in the glass, she touched the little ringlets into place and went down to dinner.

It was a depressing meal. Mr. St. Clair was irritable; Harry perplexed and sullen; Maimie nervously talkative.

Mrs. Murray was heroically holding herself in command, but the look of pain in her eyes and the pathetic

tremor on her lips belied the brave smiles and cheerful words with which she seconded Aunt Frank.

After dinner the company separated, for there were still preparations to make for the evening. As Mrs.

"Anywhere," he growled, fiercely, "to get out of this damnable hypocrisy! Pardon me, Aunt Murray, I can't

Then Mrs. Murray came, and laying her hand on his arm, said: "Don't go, Harry; don't leave me; I want some

Harry stood looking at the sweet face, trying to smile so bravely in spite of the tremulous lips.

"You are a dear, brave little woman," he said, hanging up his hat, "and I'll be hanged if I don't stay by you.

Come along upstairs." He stooped, and lifting her in his arms in spite of her laughing protests, carried her

upstairs to her room. When they came down to the party they both looked braver and stronger.

The party was a great success. The appointments were perfect; the music the best that could be had, and

Maimie more beautiful than ever. In some mysterious way, known only to Aunt Frank, the rumor of Maimie's

approaching engagement got about among the guests and produced an undertone of excitement to the

evenings gayety. Maimie was too excited to be quite natural, but she had never appeared more brilliant and

happy, and surely she had every cause. She had achieved a dizzy summit of social success that made her at

once the subject of her friends' congratulations and her rivals' secret envy, and which was the more delightful

it would be hard to say. Truly, she was a fortunate girl, but still the night was long, and she was tired of it all

before it was over. The room seemed empty, and often her heart gave a leap as her eyes fell upon some form

that appeared more handsome and striking than others near, but only to sink again in disappointment when a

second glance told her that it was only some ordinary man. Kate, too, kept aloof in a very unpleasant way,

and Harry, devoting himself to Kate, had not done his duty. But in spite of everything the party had been a

great success, and when it was over Maimie went straight to bed to sleep. She knew that Ranald would be

awaiting the answer to his note, but she could not bring herself to face what she knew would be an ordeal that

might murder sleep for her, and sleep she must have, for she must be her best tomorrow. It would have been

better for all involved had she written her answer that night; otherwise Ranald would not have been standing

at her door in the early afternoon asking to see her. It was Aunt Frances who came down to the

drawingroom. As Ranald stood up and bowed, she adjusted her pincenez upon her aristocratic nose, and

"I must say, Mr. Macdonald, that after your conduct to my brother yesterday, I am surprised you should have

"I would prefer not discussing office matters with you," said Ranald, politely, and with a suspicion of a smile.

"That, I am glad to say, is impossible, for she is at present out with Captain De Lacy who has just arrived

"Of course one cannot tell in such a case," answered Miss St. Clair, "but I should think not." Miss St. Clair

was enjoying herself. It did her good to see this insolent, squarejawed young man standing helpless before

"It is important that I should see her," said Ranald, after a few moments' thought. "I shall wait." Had Miss St.

Clair known him better she would have noticed with some concern the slow fires kindling in his eyes. As it

"That, Mr. Macdonald, you shall not; and allow me to say frankly that your boldnessyour insolenceI

"You come to the house of your employer, whom you have insulted, and demand to see his daughter."

Then Ranald stood up and looked Miss St. Clair full in the face with eyes fairly alight.

"Miss St. Clair, have you ever known what it is to love with all your soul and heart?" Miss St. Clair gasped.

"Because if not, you will not understand me; if you have you will know why I must see Maimie. It is seven

years now since I began to love her. I remember the spot in the woods; I see the big tree there behind her and

the rising ground stretching away to the right. I see the place where I pulled her out of the fire. Every morning

since that time I have waked with the thought of her; every night my eyes have closed with a vision of her

before me. It is for her I have lived and worked. I tell you she is mine! I love her! I love her, and she loves

With but a moment's pause Ranald went on, but his voice took a gentler tone. "Miss St. Clair, do you

understand me? Yes, I know you do." The blood came flowing suddenly to her thin cheeks. "You say she is

out with Captain De Lacy, and you mean me to think that she is to give herself to him. He loves her, I know,

but I say she is mine! Her eyes have told me that. She is mine, I tell you, and no man living will take her from

me." The fire that always slumbered in his eyes was now blazing in full fury. The great passion of his life was

raging through his soul, vibrating in his voice, and glowing in his dark face. Miss St. Clair sat silent, and then

"Mr. Macdonald," she said, with grave courtesy, "you are too late, I fear. I did not realizeMaimie will

never be yours. I know my niece." At the sad earnestness of her voice, Ranald's face began to grow pale.

"It is vain, Mr. Macdonald, I assure you. Spare yourself and her. I know whatI could have" Her voice

Miss St. Clair rose and gave him her hand. "I will send a friend to you, and I beg you to excuse me," Ranald

bowed gravely, "and to forgive me," and she left the room. Ranald heard her pass through the hall and up the

stairs and then a door closed behind her. Before he had time to gather his thoughts together he heard a voice

outside that made his heart stand still. Then the front door opened quickly and Maimie and De Lacy stood in

the hall. She was gayly talking. Ranald rose and stood with his back to the door. Before him was a large

mirror which reflected the hall through the open door. He stood waiting for them to enter.

"Hang up your hat, Captain De Lacy, then go in and find a chair while I run upstairs," cried Maimie, gayly.

"Come," he said, holding out his hands to her. "There was no chance in the park, and I can wait no longer."

Slowly she came near. "My darling, my sweetheart," he said, in a low voice full of intense passion. Then,

while she lay in his arms, he kissed her on the lips twice. Ranald stood gazing in the mirror as if fascinated.

As their lips met a low groan burst from him. He faced about, and with a single step, stood in the doorway.

Shriek after shriek echoed through the house as Maimie sprang from De Lacy's arms and shrank back to the

"Great heavens," cried De Lacy, "why it's Macdonald! What the deuce do you mean coming in on people like

Then she saw Ranald standing in the doorway, with face bloodless, ghastly, livid. Quickly she went up to

him, and said, in a voice trembling and not ungentle: "Oh, why did you wait, Mr. Macdonald; go away now,

Ranald turned and looked at her with a curious uncomprehending gaze, and then said, "Yes, I will go away."

He took a step toward Maimie, his eyes like lurid flames. She shrank from him, while De Lacy stepped in his

path. With a sweep of his arm he brushed De Lacy aside, hurling him crashing against the wall, and stood

The words came slowly from his pallid lips. For some moments he stood with his burning eyes fastened upon

her face. Then he turned slowly from her and groped blindly for his hat. Miss St. Clair hurried toward him,

found his hat, and putting it in his hand, said, in a broken voice, while tears poured down her cheeks: "Here it

He looked at her a moment as if in surprise, and then, with a smile of rare sweetness on his white lips, he

said, "I thank you," and passed out, going feebly like a man who has got a death wound.

It was springtime and the parks and avenues were in all the dainty splendor of their new leaves. The

afternoon May sun was flooding the city with gold and silver light, and all the air was tremulous with the

singing of birds. A good day it was to live if one could only live in the sunny air within sight of the green

leaves and within sound of the singing birds. A day for life and love it was; at least so Kate thought as she

drew up her prancing team at the St. Clair house where Harry stood waiting for her.

"Don't tell," pleaded Harry, "and do keep Breton on all fours. This isn't a circus. You terrify me."

"Some day, Kate, those 'boys' of yours will be your death or the death of some of your friends," said Harry, as

he sprang in and took his place beside Kate. "That Breton ought to be shot. It really affects my heart to drive

"Quite true," said Harry, sentimentally, "not since that night, don't you remember, Kate, when you"

"Now, Harry, I only remind you that I always tell my girl friends everything you say. It is this wedding that's

"I suppose so," murmured Harry, pensively; "wish it would get into yours. Now seriously, Kate, at your years

"Harry," said Kate, indignantly, "I really don't need you at the station. I can meet your aunt quite well without

"Oh, not to the office, I entreat! I entreat! Anything but that! Surely I may be allowed this day! I shall be

careful of your sensitive points, but I do hope this wedding of Maimie's will give you serious thoughts."

Kate was silent, giving her attention doubtless to her team. Then, with seeming irrelevance, she said: "Didn't I

"Well, old Thorp was mighty glad to get him; I can tell you that. The old sinner!"

"He's just a dear!" cried Kate. "Yes, he was glad to get Ranald. What a splendid position he gave him."

"Oh, yes, I know, he adores you like all the rest, and so you think him a dear."

But this Kate ignored for the team were speeding along at an alarming pace. With amazing skill and dash she

threaded her way through the crowded streets with almost no checking of her speed.

"Do be careful," cried Harry, as the wheels of their carriage skimmed the noses of the carhorses. "I am quite

"There's the train I do believe," cried Kate, flourishing her whip over her horses' backs. "We must not be

"No, indeed," cried Kate. "Do you think I am going to allow any one to meet MY Aunt Murray but myself? I

"Oh, I fancy you will do," cried Kate, smiling sweetly, as she ran off to meet the incoming train. In a few

"Hello, auntie dear," cried Harry. "You see I can't leave these brutes of Kate's, but believe me it does me good

to see you. What a blessing a wedding is to bring you to us. I suppose you won't come again until it is Kate's

"That would be sure to bring me," cried Mrs. Murray, smiling her bright smile, "provided you married the

"Why, auntie," said Harry, dismally, "Kate is so unreasonable. She won't take even me. You see she's so

"Dear old auntie," he said, kissing his aunt, "I am really delighted to see you. But to return to Kate. Look at

"Now, Harry, do be sensible, or I shall certainly drive you at once to the office," said Kate, severely.

"Oh, the heartlessness of her. She knows well enough that Colonel Thorp is there, and she would shamelessly

exult over his abject devotion. She respects neither innocent youth nor gray hairs, as witness myself and

"Isn't he a silly boy, auntie?" said Kate, "and he is not much improving with age."

"But what's this about Colonel Thorp?" said Mrs. Murray. "Sometimes Ranald writes of him, in high terms,

"Well, you ought to hear Thorp abuse Ranald. Says he's ruining the company with his various philanthropic

schemes," said Harry, "but you can never tell what he means exactly. He's a wily old customer."

"Don't believe him, auntie," said Kate, with a sagacious smile. "Colonel Thorp thinks that the whole future of

his company and of the Province depends solely upon Ranald. It is quite ridiculous to hear him, while all the

"It must be a great country out there, though," said Harry, "and what a row they are making over

"What do you mean, Harry?" said Mrs. Murray. "We hear so little in the country."

"Well, I don't know exactly, but those fellows in British Columbia are making all sorts of threats that unless

this railway is built forthwith they will back out of the Dominion, and some of them talk of annexation with

the United States. Don't I wish I was there! What a lucky fellow Ranald is. Thorp says he's a big gun already.

No end of a swell. Of course, as manager of a big concern like the BritishAmerican Coal and Lumber

"I don't think he is taking much to do with public questions," said Kate, "though he did make a speech at New

Westminster not long ago. He has been up in those terrible woods almost ever since he went."

"Hello, how do you know?" said Harry, looking at her suspiciously; "I get a fragment of a note from Ranald

"I hear regularly from Coley. You remember Coley, don't you?" said Kate, turning to Mrs. Murray.

"Yes," replied Kate; "Coley begged and prayed to go with Ranald, and so he went."

"She omits to state," said Harry, "that she also 'begged and prayed' and further that she outfitted the young

rascal, though I've reason to thank Providence for removing him to another sphere."

"Why, haven't you heard, Aunt Murray, of the tremendous heights to which I have attained? I suppose she

didn't tell you of her dinner party. That was after you had left last fall. It was a great bit of generalship. Some

of Ranald's football friends, Little Merrill, Starry Hamilton, that's the captain, you know, and myself among

them, were asked to a farewell supper by this young lady, and when the men had well drunkfed, I

meanand were properly dissolved in tears over the prospect of Ranald's departure, at a critical moment the

Institute was introduced as a side issue. It was dear to Ranald's heart. A most effective picture was drawn of

the Institute deserted and falling into ruins, so to speak, with Kate heroically struggling to prevent utter

collapse. Could this be allowed? No! a thousand times no! Some one would be found surely! Who would it

be! At this juncture Kate, who had been maintaining a powerful silence, smiled upon Little Merrill, who

being distinctly inflammable, and for some mysterious reason devoted to Ranald, and for an even more

mysterious reason devoted to Kate, swore he'd follow if some one would lead. What could I do? My

wellknown abilities naturally singled me out for leadership, so to prevent any such calamity, I immediately

proposed that if Starry Hamilton, the great football chief, would command this enterprise I would follow.

"And by our united efforts," continued Harry, "the Institute has survived the loss of Ranald."

"I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am, Harry, that both of my boys are taking hold of such good work, you

here and Ranald in British Columbia. He must have a very hard time of it, but he speaks very gratefully of

Colonel Thorp, who, he says, often opposes but finally agrees with his proposals."

Harry laughed aloud. "Agrees, does he? And do you know why? I remember seeing him one day, and he was

in a state of wild fury at Ranald's notions. I won't quote his exact words. The next day I found him in a state

of bland approval. Then I learn incidentally that in the meantime Kate has been giving him tea and music."

Mrs. Murray turned and looked curiously into her face and smiled, and then Kate blushed all the more.

"I think that may explain some things that have been mysterious to me," she said.

"That won't help me any. She is a most secretive person, twiddles us all round her fingers and never lets us

know anything until it's done. It is most exasperating. Oh, I say, Kate," added Harry, suddenly, "would you

"Why? Oh, I see," said Kate, drawing in her team. "How do you do, Lily? Harry is anxious to select some

"Kate, do stop it," besought Harry, in a low voice, as he leaped out of the carriage. "Good by, auntie, I'll see

you this evening. Don't believe all Kate tells you," he added, as they drove away.

"Are you too tired for a turn in the park," said Kate, "or shall we drive home?"

A drive is always pleasant. Besides, one can talk about some things with more freedom in a carriage than face

to face in one's room. The horses require attention at critical moments, and there are always points of interest

when it is important that conversation should be deflected from the subject in hand, so since Mrs. Murray was

willing, Kate turned into the park. For an hour they drove along its shady, winding roads while Mrs. Murray

talked of many things, but mostly of Ranald, and of the tales that the Glengarry people had of him. For

wherever there was lumbering to be done, sooner or later there Glengarry men were to be found, and Ranald

had found them in the British Columbia forests. And to their people at home their letters spoke of Ranald and

his doings at first doubtfully, soon more confidently, but always with pride. To Macdonald Bhain a rare letter

came from Ranald now and then, which he would carry to Mrs. Murray with a difficult pretense of modesty.

"But he is not quite sure of him," said Mrs. Murray. "He thinks it is a very queer way of lumbering, and the

"Does he say that?" asked Kate. "That's just what Colonel Thorp says his company are saying. But he stands

up for Ranald even when he can't see that his way is the best. The colonel is not very sure about Ranald's

schemes for the men, his readingroom, library, and that sort of thing. But I'm sure he will succeed." But

Mrs. Murray noticed the anxiety in Kate's voice. "At least we are sure," she said, gently, "that he will do

"I know that right well," replied Kate; "but it is hard for him out there with no one to help him or to

"It must be a terrible place," Kate went on, "especially for one like Ranald, for he has no mind to let things

go. He will do a thing as it ought to be done, or not at all." Soon after this Kate gave her mind to her horses,

"What a delightful drive we have had," said Mrs. Murray, gratefully, as Kate took her upstairs to her room.

"I hope I have not worried you with my dismal forebodings," she said, with a little laugh.

"No, dear," said Mrs. Murray, drawing her face down to the pillow where Kate had made her lay her head. "I

Then Kate laid her face beside that of her friend and whispered, "Oh, auntie, it is so hard for him"; but Mrs.

Murray stroked her head softly and said: "There is no fear, Kate; all will be well with him."

Immediately after dinner Kate carried Mrs. Murray with her to her own room, and after establishing her in all

"Here is the first, auntie; they are more picturesque than elegant, but if you knew Coley, you wouldn't mind;

you'd be glad to get any letter from him." So saying Kate turned her back to the window, a position with the

double advantage of allowing the light to fall upon the paper and the shadow to rest upon her face, and so

DEAR MISS KATE: We got here("That is to New Westminster.") last night, and it is a queer town. The

streets run every way, the houses are all built of wood, and almost none of them are painted. The streets are

full of all sorts of people. I saw lots of Chinamen and Indians. It makes a feller feel kind o' queer as if he was

in some foreign country. The hotel where we stopped was a pretty good lookin' place. Of course nothin' like

the hotel we stopped at in San Francisco. It was pretty fine inside, but after supper when the crowd began to

come in to the bar you never saw such a gang in your life! They knew how to sling their money, I can tell

you. And then they begun to yell and cut up. I tell you it would make the Ward seem like a Sunday school.

The Boss, that's what they call him here, I guess didn't like it much, and I don't think you would, either. Next

morning we went to look at the mills. They are just sheds with slab roofs. I don't think much of them myself,

though I don't know much about mills. The Boss went round askin' questions and I don't think he liked the

look of them much either. I know he kept his lips shut pretty tight as we used to see him do sometimes in the

Institute. I am awful glad he brought me along. He says I have got to write to you at least once a month, and

I've got to take care of my writin' too and get the spellin' right. When I think of the fellers back in the alleys

pitchin' pennies I tell you I'd ruther die than go back. Here a feller feels he's alive. I wish I'd paid more

attention to my writin' in the night school, but I guess I was pretty much of a fool them days, and you were

awful good to me. The Boss says that a man must always pay his way, and when I told him I wanted to pay

for them clothes you gave me he looked kind o' funny, but he said "that's right," so I want you to tell me what

they cost and I will pay you first thing, for I'm goin' to be a man out in this country. We're goin' up the river

next week and see the gangs workin' up there in the bush. It's kind o' lonesome here goin' along the street and

lookin' people in the faces to see if you can see one you know. Lots of times I though I did see some one I

"The second letter," Kate went on, "is written from the camp, Twentymile Camp, he calls it. He tells how

they went up the river in the steamer, taking with them some new hands for their camp, and how these men

came on board half drunk, and how all the way up to Yale they were drinking and fighting. It must have been

horrible. After that they went on smaller boats and then by wagons. On the roads it must have been terrible.

"These big trees are pretty hard to write about without sayin' words the Boss don't allow. It makes you think

of bein' in St. Michaels, it's so quiet and solemnlike, and I never felt so small in all my life. The Boss and

me walked the last part of the way, and got to camp late and pretty tired, and the men we brought in with us

was all pretty mad, but the Boss never paid no attention to 'em but went whistlin' about as if everything was

lovely. We had some pork and beans for supper, then went to sleep in a bunk nailed up against the side of the

shanty. It was as hard as a board, but I tell you it felt pretty good. Next day I went wanderin' 'round with the

foreman and the Boss. I tell you I was afraid to get very far away from 'em, for I'd be sure to get lost; the bush

is that thick that you can't see your own length ahead of you. That night, when the Boss and me and the

foreman was in the shanty they call the office, after supper, we heard a most awful row. 'What's that?' says

the Boss. 'O, that's nothin',' says the foreman; 'the boys is havin' a little fun, I guess.' He didn't say anything,

but went on talkin', but in a little while the row got worse, and we heard poundin' and smashin'. 'Do you allow

that sort of thing?' says the Boss. 'Well,' he says, 'Guess the boys got some whiskey last night. I generally let

'em alone.' 'Well,' says the Boss, quietlike, 'I think you'd better go in and stop it.' 'Not if I know myself,' says

the foreman, 'I ain't ordered my funeral yet.' 'Well, we'll go in and see, anyway,' says the Boss. I tell you I was

kind o' scared, but I thought I might as well go along. When we got into the sleepin' shanty there was a couple

of fellers with handspikes breakin' up the benches and knockin' things around most terrible. 'Say, boys,'

yelled the foreman, and then he began to swear most awful. They didn't seem to pay much attention, but kept

on knockin' around and swearin'. 'Come, now,' says the foreman, kind o' coaxin' like, 'this ain't no way to act.

Get down and behave yourselves.' But still they didn't pay no attention. Then the Boss walked up to the

biggest one, and when he got quite close to 'em they all got still lookin' on. 'I'll take that handspike,' says the

Boss. 'Help yourself,' says the man swingin' it up. I don't know what happened, it was done so quick, but

before you could count three that feller was on his knees bleedin' like a pig and the handspike was out of the

door, and the Boss walks up to the other feller and says, 'Put that handspike outside.' He begun to swear.

'Put it out,' says the Boss, quietlike, and the feller backs up and throws his handspike out. And the Boss up

and speaks and says, 'Look here, men, I don't want to interfere with nobody, and won't while he behaves

himself, but there ain't goin' to be any row like that in this camp. Say, you ought to have seen 'em! They sat

like the gang used to in the night school, and then he turned and walked out and we all follered him. I guess

they ain't used to that sort of thing in this camp. I heard the men talkin' next day pretty big of what they was

goin' to do, but I don't think they'll do much. They don't look that kind. Anyway, if there's goin' to be a fight,

"The letter after this," went on Kate, "tells of what happened the Sunday following."

"We'd gone out in the afternoon, Boss and me, for a walk, and when we got back the camp was just howlin'

drunk, and the foreman was worst of all. They kind o' quieted down for a little when we come in and let us

get into the office, but pretty soon they began actin' up funny again and swearin' most awful. Then I see the

Boss shut up his lips hard, and I says to myself 'Look out for blood.' Then he starts over for the bunk shanty. I

was mighty scared, and follered him close. Just as we shoved open the door a bottle come singin' through the

air and smashed to a thousand bits on the beam above. 'Is that the kind of cowards you are?' says the Boss,

quite cool. He didn't speak loud, but I tell you everybody heard him and got dead still. 'No, Boss,' says one

feller, 'not all.' 'The man that threw that bottle,' says the boss, 'is a coward, and the meanest kind. He's afraid

to step out here for five minutes.' Nobody moved. 'Step up, ye baste,' says an Irishman, 'or it's mesilf will kick

ye out of the camp.' And out the feller comes. It was the same duck that the Boss scared out of the door the

first night. 'Sthand up till 'im Billie,' says the Irishman; 'we'll see fair play. Sthand up to the gintleman.'

'Billie,' says the Boss, and his eyes was blazin' like candles; 'yer goin' to leave this camp tomorrow mornin'.

You can take your choice; will you get onto your knees now or later?' With that Billie whipped out a knife

and rushes at him; but the Boss grabs his wrist and gives it a twist, and the knife fell onto the floor. The Boss

holds him like a baby, and picks up the knife and throws it into the fire. 'Now,' says he, 'get onto your knees.

"'Let's pray,' says some one, and the crowd howls. 'Give us yer hand, Boss,' says the Irishman. 'Yer the top o'

this gang.' The Irishman shoves out his clipper, and the Boss takes it in an easy kind of a way. My you o't to

seen that Irishman squirm. 'Howly Mither!' he yells, and dances round, 'what do ye think yer got?' and he

goes off lookin' at his fingers, and the Boss stands lookin' at 'em, and says, 'You'r a nice lot of fellers, you

don't deserve it; but I'm goin' to treat you fair. I know you feel Sunday pretty slow, and I'll try to make it

better for you; but I want you to know that I won't have any more row in this camp, and I won't have any man

here that can't behave himself. Tomorrow morning, YOU,' pointin' at the foreman, 'and you, Billie,' and

YOU, pointin' at another chap, leave the camp, and they did too, though they begged and prayed to let 'em

stay, and by next Sunday we had a lot of papers and books, with pictures in 'em, and a bangup dinner, and

everything went nice. I am likin' it fine. I'm timekeeper, and look after the store; but I drive the team too

every chance I get, and I'd ruther do that a long way. But many a night I tell you when the Boss and me is

"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Murray, in a soothing voice, "but it sounds worse to us perhaps than it is."

"We must just trust him to the great Keeper," said Mrs. Murray, quietly, "in Whose keeping all are safe

Then going to her valise, she took out a letter and handed it to Kate, saying: "That's his last to me. You can

Kate took the letter and put it in her desk. "I think, perhaps, we had better go down now," she said; "I expect

Colonel Thorp has come. I think you will like him. He seems a little rough, but he is a gentleman, and has a

It is the mark of a gentleman to know his kind. He has an instinct for what is fine and offers ready homage to

what is worthy. Any one observing Colonel Thorp's manner of receiving Mrs. Murray would have known

him at once for a gentleman, for when that little lady came into the drawingroom, dressed in her decent silk

gown, with soft white lace at her throat, bearing herself with sweet dignity, and stepping with dainty grace on

her toes, after the manner of the fine ladies of the old school, and not after the flatfooted, heel first modern

style, the colonel abandoned his usual careless manner and rose and stood rigidly at attention.

"And I am glad to meet Colonel Thorp; I have heard so much of him through my friends," and she smiled at

him with such genuine kindliness that the gallant colonel lost his heart at once.

"Your friends have been doing me proud," he said, bowing to her and then to Kate.

"Oh, you needn't look at me," said Kate; "you don't imagine I have been saying nice things about you? She

"Yes," said Mrs. Murray, "Ranald has often spoken of you, Colonel Thorp, and of your kindness," said Mrs.

The colonel looked doubtful. "Well, I don't know that he thinks much of me. I have had to be pretty hard on

"Well, she ought to," said Kate, "she brought him up, and his many virtues he owes mostly to my dear aunt's

"Then," said the colonel, "you ought to be proud of him. You produced a rare article in the commercial world,

and that is a man of honor. He is not for sale, and I want to say that I feel as safe about the company's money

out there as if I was settin' on it; but he needs watching," added the colonel, "he needs watching."

"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Murray, whose pale face had flushed with pleasure and pride at the colonel's

"Too much philanthropy," said the colonel, bluntly; "the British American Coal and Lumber Company ain't

"I am glad you spoke of that, Colonel Thorp; I want to ask you about some things that I don't understand. I

know that the company are criticising some of Ranald's methods, but don't know why exactly."

"Well," said the colonel, "I am going to execute a masterly retreat, as they used to say when a fellow ran

away. I am going to get behind my company. They claim, you see, that Ranald ain't a paying concern."

Then the colonel enumerated the features of Ranald's management most severely criticised by the company.

He paid the biggest wages going; the cost of supplies for the camps was greater, and the company's stores did

not show as large profits as formerly; "and of course," said the colonel, "the first aim of any company is to

Then Mrs. Murray proceeded to deal with the company's contentions, going at once with swift intuition to the

heart of the matter. "You were speaking of honor a moment ago, Colonel. There is such a thing in business?"

"And being a man of honor, I suppose he will also deal fairly by the men and by himself."

"I don't pretend to understand the questions fully, but from Ranald's letters I have gathered that he did not

consider that justice was being done either to the men or to the company. For instance, in the matter of

storesI may be wrong in this, you will correct me, ColonelI understand it was the custom to charge the

men in the camps for the articles they needed prices three or four times what was fair."

"Well," said the colonel, "I guess things WERE a little high, but that's the way every company does."

"And then I understand that the men were so poorly housed and fed and so poorly paid that only those of the

"Well, I guess they weren't very highclass," said the colonel, "that's right enough."

"But, Colonel, if you secure a better class of men, and you treat them in a fair and honorable way with some

regard to their comfort you ought to get better results in work, shouldn't you?"

"Well, that's so," said the colonel; "there never was such an amount of timber got out with the same number

of men since the company started work, but yet the thing don't pay, and that's the trouble. The concern must

"Yes, that's quite true, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray; "but why doesn't your concern pay?"

"Well, you see, there's no market; trade is dull and we can't sell to advantage."

"But surely that is not your manager's fault," said Mrs. Murray, "and surely it would be an unjust thing to

"But the company don't look at things in that light," said the colonel. "You see they figure it this way, stores

ain't bringing in the returns they used to, the camps cost a little more, wages are a little higher, there ain't

nothing coming in, and they say, Well, that chap out there means well with his readingrooms for the mill

hands, his library in the camp, and that sort of thing, but he ain't sharp enough!"

"Sharp enough! that's a hard word, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray, earnestly, "and it may be a cruel word, but if

Ranald were ever so sharp he really couldn't remove the real cause of the trouble. You say he has produced

larger results than ever before, and if the market were normal there would be larger returns. Then, it seems to

me, Colonel, that if Ranald suffers he is suffering, not because he has been unfaithful or incompetent, but

"You must not be too hard on us," said the colonel. "So far as I am concerned, I think you are right, but it is a

hard thing to make business men look at these things in anything but a business way."

"But it should not be hard, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray, with sad earnestness, "to make even business men see

that when honor is the price of dividends the cost is too great," and without giving the colonel an opportunity

of replying, she went on with eager enthusiasm to show how the laws of the kingdom of heaven might be

applied to the great problems of labor. "And it would pay, Colonel," she cried, "it would pay in money, but

far more it would pay in what cannot be bought for moneyin the lives and souls of men, for unjust and

uncharitable dealing injures more the man who is guilty of it than the man who suffers from it in the first

"Madam," answered the colonel, gravely, "I feel you are right, and I should be glad to have you address the

meeting of our share holders, called for next month, to discuss the question of our western business."

"Then," said Mrs. Murray, unconsciously claiming the colonel's allegiance, "I feel sure there will be one

advocate at least for fair and honorable dealing at that meeting." And the colonel was far too gallant to refuse

to acknowledge the claim, but simply said: "You may trust me, madam; I shall do my best."

"I only wish papa were here," said Kate. "He is a shareholder, isn't he? And wish he could hear you, auntie,

"Oh, Kate," cried Mrs. Murray, "you make me ashamed, and I fear I have been talking too much."

At this point Harry came in. "I just came over to send you to bed," he said, kissing his aunt, and greeting the

"Well," said the colonel, slowly, "that won't be hard for the rest of you, and it don't matter much for me, and I

"No, indeed!" cried Kate, sitting down at the piano, while the colonel leaned back in his easy chair and gave

"You have given more pleasure than you know to a wayfaring man," he said, as he bade her good night.

"Come again, when you are in town, you are always welcome, Colonel Thorp," she said.

"You may count me here every time," said the colonel. Then turning to Mrs. Murray, with a low bow, he

said, "you have given me some ideas madam, that I hope may not be quite unfruitful, and as for that young

man of yours, wellIguessyou ain'thurt his cause any. We'll put up a fight, anyway."

"I am glad to have met you, Colonel Thorp," said Mrs. Murray, "and I am quite sure you will stand up for

"Now, Harry, you must go, too," said Kate; "you can see your aunt again after tomorrow, and I must get my

beauty sleep, besides I don't want to stand up with a man gaunt and holloweyed for lack of sleep," and she

bundled him off in spite of his remonstrances. But eager as Kate was for her beauty sleep, the light burned

late in her room; and long after she had seen Mrs. Murray snugly tucked in for the night, she sat with

Ranald's open letter in her hand, reading it till she almost knew it by heart. It told, among other things, of his

differences with the company in regard to stores, wages, and supplies, and of his efforts to establish a

readingroom at the mills, and a library at the camps; but there was a sentence at the close of the letter that

Kate read over and over again with the light of a great love in her eyes and with a cry of pain in her heart.

"The magazines and papers that Kate sends are a great boon. Dear Kate, what a girl she is! I know none like

her; and what a friend she has been to me ever since the day she stood up for me at Quebec. You remember I

told you about that. What a guy I must have been, but she never showed a sign of shame. I often think of that

now, how different she was from another! I see it now as I could not thena man is a fool once in his life,

but I have got my lesson and still have a good true friend." Often she read and long she pondered the last

words. It was so easy to read too much into them. "A good, true friend." She looked at the words till the tears

"Now, young woman," she said, severely, "be sensible and don't dream dreams until you are asleep, and to

sleep you must go forthwith." But sleep was slow to come, and strange to say, it was the thought of the little

woman in the next room that quieted her heart and sent her to sleep, and next day she was looking her best.

And when the ceremony was over, and the guests were assembled at the wedding breakfast, there were not a

few who agreed with Harry when, in his speech, he threw down his gage as champion for the peerless

bridesmaid, whom for the houralas, too shorthe was privileged to call his "lady fair." For while Kate

had not the beauty of form and face and the fascination of manner that turned men's heads and made Maimie

the envy of all her set, there was in her a wholesomeness, a fearless sincerity, a noble dignity, and that

indescribable charm of a true heart that made men trust her and love her as only good women are loved. At

last the brilliant affair was all over, the rice and old boots were thrown, the farewell words spoken, and tears

"Dear Maimie," replied Aunt Murray, with a gentle sigh, "I hope she will be happy."

"Yes, it is much better," replied Mrs. Murray; and then she added, "How lovely Kate looked! What a noble

girl she is," but she did not explain even to herself, much less to Aunt Frank, the nexus of her thoughts.

The meeting of the shareholders of the BritishAmerican Lumber and Coal Company was, on the whole, a

stormy one, for the very best of reasonsthe failure of the company to pay dividends. The annual report

which the president presented showed clearly that there was a slight increase in expenditure and a

considerable falling off in sales, and it needed but a little mathematical ability to reach the conclusion that in

a comparatively short time the company would be bankrupt. The shareholders were thoroughly disgusted

with the British Columbia end of the business, and were on the lookout for a victim. Naturally their choice

fell upon the manager. The concern failed to pay. It was the manager's business to make it pay and the failure

must be laid to his charge. Their confidence in their manager was all the more shaken by the reports that had

reached them of his peculiar fadshis readingroom, library, etc. These were sufficient evidence of his lack

of business ability. He was undoubtedly a worthy young man, but there was every ground to believe that he

was something of a visionary, and men with great hesitation intrust hard cash to the management of an

idealist. It was, perhaps, unfortunate for Mr. St. Clair that he should be appealed to upon this point, for his

reluctance to express an opinion as to the ability of the manager, and his admission that possibly the young

man might properly be termed a visionary, brought Colonel Thorp sharply to his feet.

"Mr. St. Clair," said the colonel, in a cool, cutting voice, "will not hesitate to bear testimony to the fact that

our manager is a man whose integrity cannot be tampered with. If I mistake not, Mr. St. Clair has had

Mr. St. Clair hastened to bear the very strongest testimony to the manager's integrity.

"And Mr. St. Clair, I have no doubt," went on the colonel, "will be equally ready to bear testimony to the

conspicuous ability our manager displayed while he was in the service of the Raymond and St. Clair Lumber

"We are sure of two things, therefore," continued the colonel, "that our manager is a man of integrity, and that

At this point the colonel was interrupted, and his attention was called to the fact that the reports showed an

increase of expenditure for supplies and for wages, and on the other hand a falling off in the revenue from the

stores. But the colonel passed over these points as insignificant. "It is clear," he proceeded, "that the cause of

failure does not lie in the management, but in the state of the market. The political situation in that country is

"Then," interrupted a shareholder, "it is time the company should withdraw from that country and confine

"What about these fads, Colonel?" asked another shareholder; "these readingrooms, libraries, etc? Do you

think we pay a man to establish that sort of thing? To my mind they simply put a lot of nonsense into the

heads of the workingmen and are the chief cause of dissatisfaction." Upon this point the colonel did not feel

competent to reply; consequently the feeling of the meeting became decidedly hostile to the present manager,

and a resolution was offered demanding his resignation. It was also agreed that the board of directors should

consider the advisability of withdrawing altogether from British Columbia, inasmuch as the future of that

country seemed to be very uncertain. Thereupon Colonel Thorp rose and begged leave to withdraw his name

from the directorate of the company. He thought it was unwise to abandon a country where they had spent

large sums of money, without a thorough investigation of the situation, and he further desired to enter his

protest against the injustice of making their manager suffer for a failure for which he had in no way been

shown to be responsible. But the shareholders refused to even consider Colonel Thorp's request, and both

the president and secretary exhausted their eloquence in eulogizing his value to the company. As a

compromise it was finally decided to continue operations in British Columbia for another season. Colonel

Thorp declared that the reforms and reorganization schemes inaugurated by Ranald would result in great

reductions in the cost of production, and that Ranald should be given opportunity to demonstrate the success

or failure of his plans; and further, the political situation doubtless would be more settled. The wisdom of this

The spirit of unrest and dissatisfaction appeared again at the next annual meeting, for while conditions were

improving, dividends were not yet forthcoming. Once again Colonel Thorp successfully championed Ranald's

cause, this time insisting that a further test of two seasons be made, prophesying that not only would the

present deficit disappear, but that their patience and confidence would be amply rewarded.

Yielding to pressure, and desiring to acquaint himself with actual conditions from personal observation,

Colonel Thorp concluded to visit British Columbia the autumn preceding the annual meeting which was to

Therefore it was that Colonel Thorp found himself on the coast steamship Oregon approaching the city of

Victoria. He had not enjoyed his voyage, and was, consequently, in no mood to receive the note which was

"Mike, if you please, Michael Cole, if you don't mind; and the note is from the boss, Mr. Macdonald, who has

"Gone up the country!" roared the colonel; "what the blank, blank, does he mean by going up the country at

But Mr. Michael Cole was quite undisturbed by the colonel's wrath. "You might find the reason in the note,"

"MY DEAR COLONEL THORP: I am greatly disappointed in not being able to meet you. The truth is I only

received your letter this week. Our mails are none too prompt, and so I have been unable to rearrange my

plans. I find it necessary to run up the river for a couple of weeks. In the meantime, thinking that possibly you

might like to see something of our country, I have arranged that you should join the party of the Lieutenant

Governor on their trip to the interior, and which will take only about four weeks' time. The party are going to

visit the most interesting districts of our country, including both the famous mining district of Cariboo and

the beautiful valley of the Okanagan. Mr. Cole, my clerk, will introduce you to Mr. Blair, our member of

Parliament for Westminster, who will present you to the rest of the party. Mr. Blair, I need not say, is one of

the brightest business men in the West. I shall meet you at Yale on your return. If it is absolutely impossible

for you to take this trip, and necessary that I should return at once, Mr. Cole will see that a special messenger

"Look here, young man," yelled the colonel, "do you think I've come all this way to go gallivanting around

"I don't know, Colonel," said young Cole, brightly; "but I tell you I'd like mighty well to go in your place."

"He's away up the river looking after business, and pretty big business, too," said Coley, not at all overawed

"Oh, don't make any mistake about that, Colonel," said young Cole; "he always knows where he's going and

what he wants, and he gets it." But the colonel made no reply, nor did he deign to notice Mr. Michael Cole

"The boss didn't know," said Coley, approaching the colonel with some degree of care, "whether you would

like to go to the hotel or to his rooms; you can take your choice. The hotel is not of the best, and he thought

The colonel made no mistake in deciding for Ranald's quarters. They consisted of two rooms that formed one

corner of a long, wooden, singlestory building in the shape of an L. One of these rooms Ranald made his

diningroom and bedroom, the other was his office. The rest of the building was divided into three sections,

and constituted a diningroom, readingroom, and bunkroom for the men. The walls of these rooms were

decorated not inartistically with a few colored prints and with cuts from illustrated papers, many and divers.

The furniture throughout was homemade, with the single exception of a cabinet organ which stood in one

corner of the readingroom. On the windows of the diningroom and bunkroom were green roller blinds,

but those of the readingroom were draped with curtains of flowered muslin. Indeed the readingroom was

distinguished from the others by a more artistic and elaborate decoration, and by a greater variety of furniture.

The room was evidently the pride of the company's heart. In Ranald's private room the same simplicity in

furniture and decoration was apparent, but when the colonel was ushered into the bedroom his eye fell at once

Coley beamed. "You do, eh? Well, then, she's worth knowin' and there's only one of her kind."

"Don't know about that, young man," said the colonel, looking at the other photograph; "here's one that ought

"Perhaps," said Coley, doubtfully, "the boss thinks so, I guess, from the way he looks at it."

"Young man, what sort of a fellow's your boss?" said the colonel, suddenly facing Coley.

"What sort?" Coley thought a moment. "Well, 'twould need a good eddication to tell, but there's only one in

"Then he owes it to this little woman," pointing to one of the photographs, "and she," pointing to the other,

"I don't bet on a sure thing," said the colonel, his annoyance vanishing in a slow smile, his first since reaching

"Dinner'll be ready in half an hour, sir," said Coley, swearing allegiance in his heart to the man that agreed

with him in regard to the photograph that stood with Coley for all that was highest in humanity.

"Now, look here, John, him big man." John was not much impressed. "Awful big man, I tell you, big soldier."

"John," said the exasperated Coley, "I'll kick you across this room and back if you don't listen to me. Want

"Huh! Coley heap fool! Get chicken, quick! meat shop, small, eh?" The Chinaman was at last aroused. Pots,

pans, and other utensils were in immediate requisition, a roaring fire set agoing, and in threequarters of an

hour the colonel sat down to a dinner of soup, fish, and fowl, with various entrees and side dishes that would

have done credit to a New York chef. Thus potent was the name of the boss with his cook.

John's excellent dinner did much to soothe and mollify his guest; but the colonel was sensitive to impressions

other than the purely gastronomic, for throughout the course of the dinner, his eyes wandered to the

photographs on the wall, and in fancy he was once more in the presence of the two women, to whom he felt

pledged in Ranald's behalf. "It's a onehorse looking country, though," he said to himself, "and no place for a

man with any snap. Best thing would be to pull out, I guess, and take him along." And it was in this mind that

he received the Honorable Archibald Blair, M. P. P., for New Westminster, president of the British Columbia

Canning Company, recently organized, and a director in half a dozen other business concerns.

"Colonel Thorp, this is Mr. Blair, of the British Columbia Canning Company," said Coley, with a curious

"Glad to welcome a friend of Mr. Macdonald's," said Mr. Blair, a little man of about thirty, with a shrewd eye

"Well, I guess I can say the same," said Colonel Thorp, shaking hands. "I judge his friends are of the right

"You'll find plenty in this country glad to class themselves in that list," laughed Mr. Blair; "I wouldn't

undertake to guarantee them all, but those he lists that way, you can pretty well bank on. He's a young man

"Young, for that matter so are we all, especially on this side the water here. It's a young man's country."

"Yes, thank Providence!" said Mr. Blair, enthusiastically; "but there's lots of life and lots to feed it. But I'm

not going to talk, Colonel. It is always wasted breath on an Easterner. I'll let the country talk. You are coming

"Hardly think so; my time is rather limited, and, well, to tell the truth; I'm from across the line and don't cater

"Royalties!" exclaimed Mr. Blair. "Oh, you mean our governor. Well, that's good rather, must tell the

governor that." Mr. Blair laughed long and loud. "You'll forget all that when you are out with us an hour. No,

we think it well to hedge our government with dignity, but on this trip we shall leave the gold lace and red

"About four weeks. But I make you a promise. If after the first week you want to return from any point, I

shall send you back with all speed. But you won't want to, I guarantee you that. Why, my dear sir, think of

the route," and Mr. Blair went off into a rapturous description of the marvels of the young province, its

scenery, its resources, its climate, its sport, playing upon each string as he marked the effect upon his listener.

By the time Mr. Blair's visit was over, the colonel had made up his mind that he would see something of this

Next day Coley took him over the company's mills, and was not a little disappointed to see that the colonel

was not impressed by their size or equipment. In Coley's eyes they were phenomenal, and he was inclined to

resent the colonel's lofty manner. The foreman, Mr. Urquhart, a shrewd Scotchman, who had seen the mills of

the Ottawa River and those in Michigan as well, understood his visitor's attitude better; and besides, it suited

his Scotch nature to refuse any approach to open admiration for anything out of the old land. His ordinary

commendation was, "It's no that bad"; and his superlative was expressed in the daring concession, "Aye, it'll

maybe dae, it micht be waur." So he followed the colonel about with disparaging comments that drove Coley

to the verge of madness. When they came to the engine room, which was Urquhart's pride, the climax was

"It's a wee bit o' a place, an' no fit for the wark," said Urquhart, ushering the colonel into a snug little

engineroom, where every bit of brass shone with dazzling brightness, and every part of the engine moved in

"It's no that bad the noo, but ye sud hae seen it afore Jem, there, took a hand o' ita wheezin' rattlin' pechin

thing that ye micht expect tae flee in bits for the noise in the wame o't. But Jemmie sorted it till it's nae

despicable for its size. But it's no fit for the wark. Jemmie, lad, just gie't its fill an' we'll pit the saw until a

log," said Urquhart, as they went up into the sawing room where, in a few minutes, the colonel had an

"Man, yon's a lad that kens his trade. He's frae Gleska. He earns his money's warth."

"How did you come to get him?" said the colonel, moved to interest by Urquhart's unwonted praise.

"Indeed, just the way we've got all our best men. It's the boss picked him oot o' the gutter, and there he is

"The boss did that, eh?" said the colonel, with one of his swift glances at the speaker.

"Doesn't seem to be able to make the company's business pay," ventured the colonel.

"D'ye think ye cud find one that cud?" pointing to the halting saw. "An that's the machine that turned oot thae

piles yonder. Gie him a chance, though, an' when the stuff is deesposed of ye'll get y're profit." Urquhart

knew what he was about, and the colonel went back with Coley to his rooms convinced of two facts, that the

company had a plant that might easily be improved, but a manager that, in the estimation of those who

wrought with him, was easily first in his class. Ranald could have adopted no better plan for the enhancing of

his reputation than by allowing Colonel Thorp to go in and out among the workmen and his friends. More

and more the colonel became impressed with his manager's genius for the picking of his men and binding

them to his interests, and as this impression deepened he became the more resolved that it was a waste of

good material to retain a man in a country offering such a limited scope for his abilities.

But after four weeks spent in exploring the interior, from Quesnelle to Okanagan, and in the following in and

out the water ways of the coast line, the colonel met Ranald at Yale with only a problem to be solved, and

"How in thunder can I get those narrowgauge, hidebound Easterners to launch out into business in this

"By the great Sam, so you have!" said the colonel, with a sudden conviction of his own limitations in the past.

"No use tryin' to tell 'em of this," swinging his long arm toward the great sweep of the Fraser Valley, clothed

with a mighty forest. "It's only a question of holdin' on for a few years, the thing's dead sure."

"I have been through a good part of it," said Ranald, quietly, and I am convinced that here we have the pick

of Canada, and I venture to say of the American Continent. Timber, hundreds of square miles of it, fishI've

"Simple, sober truth of my own proving," replied Ranald. "And you saw a fringe of the mines up in the

Cariboo. The Kootenai is full of gold and silver, and in the Okanagan you can grow food and fruits for

"Tell you what," said the colonel, "you make me think you're speakin' the truth anyhow." Then, with a sudden

inspiration, he exclaimed: "By the great Sammy, I've got an idea!" and then, as he saw Ranald waiting, added,

"Do you think you could spare me, Colonel?" asked Ranald, in a dubious voice; "I really ought to run through

"No, by the great Sam, I can't! I want you to come right along," replied the colonel, with emphasis.

"Wants to run off and leave me to paddle my way home alone. Not much! I tell you what, we have some

"And besides, Macdonald, I want you for that big meeting of ours next week. You simply must be there."

"Not a bit; you know there are a lot of hotheads talking separation and that sort of thing, and I want some

And as it turned out it was a good thing for Mr. Blair and for the cause he represented that Ranald was

present at the great mass meeting held in New Westminster the next week. For the people were exasperated

beyond all endurance at the delay of the Dominion in making good the solemn promises given at the time of

Confederation, and were in a mood to listen to the proposals freely made that the useless bond should be

severed. "Railway or separation," was the cry, and resolutions embodying this sentiment were actually

proposed and discussed. It was Ranald's speech, every one said, that turned the tide. His calm logic made

clear the folly of even considering separation; his knowledge of, and his unbounded faith in, the resources of

the province, and more than all, his impassioned picturing of the future of the great Dominion reaching from

ocean to ocean, knit together by ties of common interest, and a common loyalty that would become more

vividly real when the provinces had been brought more closely together by the promised railway. They might

have to wait a little longer, but it was worth while waiting, and there was no future in any other policy. It was

his first speech at a great meeting, and as Mr. Blair shook him warmly by the hand, the crowd burst into

enthusiastic cries, "Macdonald! Macdonald!" and in one of the pauses a single voice was heard, "Glengarry

forever!" Then again the crowd broke forth, "Glengarry! Glengarry!" for all who knew Ranald personally had

heard of the gang that were once the pride of the Ottawa. At that old cry Ranald's face flushed deep red, and

Swiftly Mr. Blair made up his mind. "Gentlemen, that is a good suggestion. I make it a motion." It was

seconded in a dozen places, and carried by a standing vote. Then Ranald rose again and modestly protested

"And, besides," went on Ranald, "it is impossible for me to get away; I'm a working man and not my own

Then the colonel, who was sitting on the platform, rose and begged to be heard. "Mr. Chairman and

"Never mind! You can't help that," sang out a man from the back, with a roar of laughter following.

"But if I weren't an American, I don't know anything that I'd rather be." (Great applause.) "Four weeks ago I

wouldn't have taken your province as a gift. Now I only wish Uncle Sam could persuade you to sell." (Cries

of "He hasn't got money enough. Don't fool yourself.") "But I want to say that this young man of mine,"

pointing to Ranald, "has given you good talk, and if you want him to go East, why, I'll let him off for a spell."

A week later a great meeting in Victoria indorsed the New Westminster resolutions with the added demand

that the railway should be continued to Esquinalt according to the original agreement. Another delegate was

appointed to represent the wishes of the islanders, and before Ranald had fully realized what had happened he

found himself a famous man, and on the way to the East with the jubilant colonel.

"What was the great idea, Colonel, that struck you at Yale?" inquired Ranald, as they were fairly steaming

"This is it, my boy!" exclaimed the colonel, slapping him on the back. "This here trip East. Now we've got

'em over the ropes, by the great and everlasting Sammy!" the form of oath indicating a climax in the colonel's

"Them golblamed, crossroad hayseeds down East." And with this the colonel became discreetly silent. He

knew too well the sensitive pride of the man with whom he had to deal, and he was chiefly anxious now that

Ranald should know as little as possible of the real object of his going to British Columbia.

"We've got to make the BritishAmerican Coal and Lumber Company know the time of day. It's gittin'up

time out in this country. They were talkin' a little of drawin' out." Ranald gasped. "Some of them only," the

colonel hastened to add, "but I want you to talk like you did the other night, and I'll tell my little tale, and if

"Well, Colonel, here's my word," said Ranald, deliberately, "if the company wish to withdraw they may do

so, but my future is bound up with that of the West, and I have no fear that it will fail me. I stake my all upon

The colonel was an experienced traveler, and believed in making himself comfortable. Ranald looked on with

some amusement, and a little wonder, while the colonel arranged his things about the stateroom.

"May as well make things comfortable while we can," said the colonel, "we have the better part of three days

before us on this boat, and if it gets rough, it is better to have things neat. Now you go ahead," he added, "and

"I think you are right, Colonel. I am not much used to travel, but I shall take your advice on this."

"Well, I have traveled considerable these last twenty years," replied the colonel. "I say, would you mind

"Those photos. They're the two you had up by the glass in your room, aren't they?" Ranald flushed a little.

"Of course it ain't for every one to see, and I would not ask you, but those two ain't like any other two that I

have seen, and I have seen a good many in forty years." Ranald said nothing, but set the photographs on a

"There, that makes this room feel better," said the colonel. "That there is the finest, sweetest, truest girl that

walks this sphere," he said, pointing at Kate's photograph, "and the other, I guess you know all about her."

"Yes, I know about her," said Ranald, looking at the photograph; "it is to her I owe everything I have that is

any good. And Colonel," he added, with an unusual burst of confidence, "when my life was broken off short,

"Yes, I think they do," said Ranald. "They are not the kind to forget a man when he is out of sight, and it is

"Ain't it queer, now, how the world is run?" said the colonel. "There's two women, now, the very best; one

has been buried all her life in a little hole in the woods, and the other is giving herself to a fellow that ain't fit

"Yes, they say she is going to throw herself away on young St. Clair. He is all right, I suppose, but he ain't fit

for her." Ranald suddenly stooped over his valise and began pulling out his things.

"I did," said the colonel; "you see he is always there, and acting as if he owned her. He stuck to her for a long

"Harry is a very decent fellow," said Ranald, rising up from his unpacking; "I say, this boat's close. Let us go

"Wait," said the colonel, "I want to talk over our plans, and we can talk better here."

"No," said Ranald; "I want some fresh air. Let us go up." And without further words, he hurried up the

gangway. It was some time before Colonel Thorp found him in the bow of the boat, and immediately began

"Yes," said Ranald; "but I think I ought to go to Ottawa at once, and then I shall see my people in Glengarry

for a few days. Then I will be ready for the meeting at Bay City any time after the second week."

"But you have not put Toronto in there," said the colonel; "you are not going to disappoint that little girl? She

"Well," said the colonel, "I want to give you plenty of time. I will arrange that meeting for a month from

"No, no," said Ranald, impatiently; "I must get back to the West. Two weeks will do me."

"Well, we will make it three," said the colonel. He could not understand Ranald's sudden eagerness to set out

for the West again. He had spoken with such enthusiastic delight of his visit to Toronto, and now he was only

going to run in for a day or so. And if Ranald himself were asked, he would have found it difficult to explain

his sudden lack of interest, not only in Toronto, but in everything that lay in the East. He was conscious of a

After the colonel had gone down for the night, Ranald walked the deck alone and resolutely faced himself.

His first frank look within revealed to him the fact that his pain had come upon him with the colonel's

information that Kate had given herself to Harry. It was right that he should be disappointed. Harry, though a

decent enough fellow, did not begin to be worthy of her; and indeed no one that he knew was worthy of her.

But why should he feel so sorely about it? For years Harry had been her devoted slave. He would give her the

love of an honest man, and would surround her with all the comforts and luxuries that wealth could bring.

She would be very happy. He had no right to grieve about it. And yet he did grieve. The whole sky over the

landscape of his life had suddenly become cold and gray. During these years Kate had grown to be much to

him. She had in many ways helped him in his work. The thought of her and her approval had brought him

inspiration and strength in many an hour of weakness and loneliness. She had been so loyal and so true from

the very first, and it was a bitter thing to feel that another had come between them. Over and over again he

accused himself of sheer madness. Why should she not love Harry? That need not make her any less his

friend. But in spite of his arguments, he found himself weary of the East and eager to turn away from it. He

must hurry on at once to Ottawa, and with all speed get done his business there.

At Chicago he left the colonel with a promise to meet him in three weeks at the headquarters of the

BritishAmerican Coal and Lumber Company at Bay City. He wired to Ottawa, asking an appointment with

the government, and after three days' hard travel found himself in the capital of the Dominion. The premier,

Sir John A. Macdonald, with the ready courtesy characteristic of him, immediately arranged for a hearing of

the delegation from British Columbia. Ranald was surprised at the indifference with which he approached

this meeting. He seemed to have lost capacity for keen feeling of any kind. Sir John A. MacDonald and his

cabinet received the delegation with great kindness, and in every possible way strove to make them feel that

the government was genuinely interested in the western province, and were anxious to do all that could be

done in their interest. In the conference that ensued, the delegate for Victoria took a more prominent part,

being an older man, and representing the larger and more important constituency. But when Sir John began to

ask questions, the Victoria delegate was soon beyond his depth. The premier showed such an exactness of

knowledge and comprehensiveness of grasp that before long Ranald was appealed to for information in

regard to the resources of the country, and especially the causes and extent of the present discontent.

"The causes of discontent are very easy to see, " said Ranald; "all British Columbians feel hurt at the failure

"There may be," said Ranald, "some lingering impatience with the government by different officials, and

"Do not overestimate that," said Ranald; "I believe that there are only a very few with annexation

sentiments, and all these are of American birth. The great body of the people are simply indignant at, and

"And would you say there is no other cause of discontent, Mr. Macdonald?" said Sir John, with a keen look at

"There is another cause, I believe," said Ranald, "and that is the party depression, but that depression is due to

the uncertainty in regard to the political future of the province. When once we hear that the railroad is being

"Ah, I am afraid your people are not great admirers of my government, and perhaps you, Mr. Macdonald,

"Well, Mr. Macdonald," said Sir John, rising, "that is right, and you ought to have your road."

"Do I understand you to say that the government will begin to build the road at once?" said Ranald.

"I have come two thousand miles to get it. The people that sent me will be content with nothing else. It is a

"Mr. Macdonald," said Sir John, becoming suddenly grave, "believe me, it is a more serious time than you

"All I can say today, Mr. Macdonald," said Sir John, earnestly, "is this, that if I can bring it about, the

"Then, Sir John," said Ranald, "you may depend that British Columbia will be grateful to you," and the

"By Jove, Macdonald, I have been waiting here threequarters of an hour. Come along. Maimie has an

afternoon right on, and you are our lion." Ranald would have refused, but De Lacy would not accept any

Maimie's rooms were crowded with all the great social and political people of the city. With an air of

triumph, De Lacy piloted Ranald through the crowd and presented him to Maimie. Ranald was surprised to

find himself shaking hands with the woman he had once loved, with unquickened pulse and nerves cool and

steady. Here Maimie, who was looking more beautiful than ever, and who was dressed in a gown of exquisite

"How famous you have become, Mr. Macdonald," she said, offering him her hand; "we are all proud to say

"No, indeed. Every one is talking of the young man from the West. And how handsome you are, Ranald," she

said, in a low voice, leaning toward him, and flashing at him one of her oldtime glances.

"I am not used to that," he said, "and I can only reply as we used to in school, 'You, too.'"

"Oh, now you flatter me," cried Maimie, gayly; "but let me introduce you to my dear friend, Lady Mary

"Oh, yes," said Lady Mary, with a look of intelligence in her beautiful dark eyes, "I have heard a great deal

"You see, he is not only famous but modest," said Maimie; "but that is an old characteristic of his. I knew Mr.

"Happy," said Ranald, "yes, so happy that I can hardly bear to think of those days."

"Oh, yes, Lady Mary. That is true and so many things die with them, as, for instance, our youthful beliefs and

"Now, Lady Mary," replied Maimie, "I want my lion to be led about and exhibited, and I give him over to

For some time Ranald stood near, chatting to two or three people to whom Lady Mary had introduced him,

but listening eagerly all the while to Maimie talking to the men who were crowded about her. How brilliantly

she talked, finding it quite within her powers to keep several men busy at the same time; and as Ranald

listened to her gay, frivolous talk, more and more he became conscious of an unpleasantness in her tone. It

"Can it be possible," he said to himself, "that once she had the power to make my heart quicken its beat?"

"If I begin about the West," he replied, "I must have both time and space to deliver myself."

"Come, then. We shall find a corner," said Lady Mary, and for half an hour did Ranald discourse to her of the

West, and so eloquently that Lady Mary quite forgot that he was a lion and that she had been intrusted with

"Now, Lady Mary, you are very selfish, for so many people are wanting to see our hero, and here is the

"Ah, Lady Mary," said Sir John, "you have captured the man from Glengarry, I see."

"I hope so, indeed," said Lady Mary; "but why from Glengarry? He is from the West, is he not?"

"Once from Glengarry, now from the West, and I hope he will often come from the West, and he will, no

doubt, if those people know what is good for them." And Sir John, skillfully drawing Ranald aside, led him to

talk of the political situation in British Columbia, now and then putting a question that revealed a knowledge

so full and accurate that Ranald exclaimed, suddenly, "Why, Sir John, you know more about the country than

"Not at all, not at all," replied Sir John; and then, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, he added, "You

are the first man from that country that knows what I want to know." And once more he plied Ranald with

questions, listening eagerly and intelligently to the answers so enthusiastically given.

"We want to make this Dominion a great empire," said Sir John, as he said good by to Ranald, "and we are

"I will try, Sir John," he said, "and I shall go back feeling thankful that you are going to show us the way."

"Going so soon?" said Maimie, when he came to say good by. "Why I have seen nothing of you, and I have

not had a moment to offer you my congratulations," she said, with a significant smile. Ranald bowed his

"And Kate, dear girl," went on Maimie, "she never comes to see me now, but I am glad she will be so happy."

Ranald looked at her steadily for a moment or two, and then said, quietly, "I am sure I hope so, and Harry is a

"Oh, isn't he," cried Maimie, "and he is just daft about her. Must you go? I am so sorry. I wanted to talk about

old times, the dear old days." The look in Maimie's eyes said much more than her words.

"Yes," said Ranald, with an easy, frank smile; "they were dear days, indeed; I often think of them. And now I

He came away from her with an inexplicable feeling of exultation. He had gone with some slight trepidation

in his heart, to meet her, and it was no small relief to him to discover that she had lost all power over him.

"What sort of man could I have been, I wonder?" he asked himself; "and it was only three years ago."

Near the door Lady Mary stopped him. "Going so early, and without saying good by?" she said,

"I am sure you are good to think so, but I am also quite sure that he has never given a thought to my

"Indeed he has. Now, can't you stay a few days? I want to see morewe all want to hear more about the

"You will never know the West by hearing of it," said Ranald, offering his hand.

As Ranald approached his hotel, he saw a man that seemed oddly familiar, lounging against the door and as

"Why, Yankee!" he exclaimed, rushing at him, "how in the world did you come to be here, and what brought

"Well, I came for you, I guess. Heard you were going to be here and were comin' home afterwards, so I

thought it would be quicker for you to drive straight across than to go round by Cornwall, so I hitched up

"Lisette! You don't mean to tell me? How is the old girl? Yankee, you have done a fine thing. Now we will

"'Bout two days easy goin,' I guess. Of course if you want, I guess we can do it in a day and a half. She will

"Can't we get off tonight?" inquired Ranald, eagerly. "We could get out ten miles or so."

"Yes," replied Yankee. "There's a good place to stop, about ten miles out. I think we had better go along the

river road, and then take down through the Russell Hills to the Nation Crossing."

In half an hour they were off on their two days' trip to the Indian Lands. And two glorious days they were.

The open air with the suggestion of the coming fall, the great forests with their varying hues of green and

brown, yellow and bright red, and all bathed in the smoky purple light of the September sun, these all

combined to bring to Ranald's heart the rest and comfort and peace that he so sorely needed. And when he

drove into his uncle's yard in the late afternoon of the second day, he felt himself more content to live the life

appointed him; and if anything more were needed to strengthen him in this resolution, and to fit him for the

fight lying before him, his brief visit to his home brought it to him. It did him good to look into the face of the

great Macdonald Bhain once more, and to hear his deep, steady voice welcome him home. It was the face and

the voice of a man who had passed through many a sore battle, and not without honor to himself. And it was

good, too, to receive the welcome greetings of his old friends and to feel their pride in him and their high

expectation of him. More than ever, he resolved that he would be a man worthy of his race.

His visit to the manse brought him mingled feelings of delight and perplexity and pain. The minister's

welcome was kind, but there was a tinge of selfcomplacent pride in it. Ranald was one of "his lads," and he

evidently took credit to himself for the young man's success. Hughie regarded him with reserved approval.

He was now a man and teaching school, and before committing himself to his old time devotion, he had to

adjust his mind to the new conditions. But before the evening was half done Ranald had won him once more.

His tales of the West, and of how it was making and marring men, of the nation that was being built up, and

his picture of the future that he saw for the great Dominion, unconsciously revealed the strong manhood and

the high ideals in the speaker, and Hughie found himself slipping into the old attitude of devotion to his

But it struck Ranald to the heart to see the marks of many a long day's work upon the face of the woman who

had done more for him than all the rest of the world. Her flock of little children had laid upon her a load of

care and toil, which added to the burden she was already trying to carry, was proving more than her delicate

frame could bear. There were lines upon her face that only weariness often repeated cuts deep; but there were

other lines there, and these were lines of heart pain, and as Ranald watched her closely, with his heart running

over with love and pity and indignation for her, he caught her frequent glances toward her first born that

"Can it be the young rascal is bringing her anything but perfect satisfaction and joy in return for the sacrifice

of her splendid life?" he said to himself. But no word fell from her to show him the secret of her pain, it was

Hughie's own lips that revealed him, and as the lad talked of his present and his future, his impatience of

control, his lack of sympathy to all higher ideals, his determination to please himself to the forgetting of all

else, his seeming unconsciousness of the debt he owed to his mother, all these became easily apparent. With

difficulty Ranald restrained his indignation. He let him talk for some time and then opened out upon him. He

read him no long lecture, but his words came forth with such fiery heat that they burned their way clear

through all the faults and flimsy selfishness of the younger man till they reached the true heart of him. His

"Do you know, Hughie," he said, and the fire in his eyes seemed to burn into Hughie's, "do you know what

sort of woman you have for a mother? And do you know that if you should live to be a hundred years, and

devoted every day of your life to the doing of her pleasure, you could not repay the debt you owe her? Be a

man, Hughie. Thank God for her, and for the opportunity of loving and caring for her."

The night of his first visit to the manse Ranald had no opportunity for any further talk with the minister's

wife, but he came away with the resolve that before his week's visit was over, he would see her alone. On his

return home, however, he found waiting him a telegram from Colonel Thorp, mailed from Alexandria,

announcing an early date for the meeting of shareholders at Bay City, so that he found it necessary to leave

immediately after the next day, which was the Sabbath. It was no small disappointment to him that he was to

have no opportunity of opening his heart to his friend. But as he sat in his uncle's seat at the side of the pulpit,

from which he could catch sight of the minister's pew, and watched the look of peace and quiet courage grow

upon her face till all the lines of pain and care were quite smoothed out, he felt his heart fill up with a sense of

shame for all his weakness, and his soul knit itself into the resolve that if he should have to walk his way,

bearing his cross alone, he would seek the same high spirit of faith and patience and courage that he saw

After the service he walked home with the minister's wife, seeking opportunity for a few last words with her.

He had meant to tell her something of his heart's sorrow and disappointment, for he guessed that knowing and

loving Kate as she did, she would understand its depth and bitterness. But when he told her of his early

departure, and of the fear that for many years he could not return, his heart was smitten with a great pity for

her. The look of disappointment and almost of dismay he could not understand until, with difficulty, she told

him how she had hoped that he was to spend some weeks at home and that Hughie might be much with him.

"I wish he could know you better, Ranald. There is no one about here to whom he can look up, and some of

his companions are not of the best." The look of beseeching pain in her eyes was almost more than Ranald

"I know," she said, simply; "you have been a great joy to me, Ranald, and it will always comfort me to think

of you, and of your work, and I like to remember, too, how you helped Harry. He told me much about you,

"Yes, yes," replied Ranald, hurriedly; "that will be a great thing for him." Then, after a pause, he added:

"Mrs. Murray, the West is a hard country for young men who are notnot very firmly anchored, but if at any

time you think I could help Hughie and you feel like sending him to me, I will gladly do for him all that one

man can do for another. And all that I can do will be a very poor return for what you have done for me."

"It's little I have done, Ranald," she said, "and that little has been repaid a thousandfold, for there is no

greater joy than that of seeing my boys grow into good and great men and that joy you have brought me."

"I will remember your promise, Ranald," she said, "for it may be that some day I shall need you." And when

the chance came to Ranald before many years had gone, he proved himself not unworthy of her trust.

At the meeting of shareholders of the BritishAmerican Coal and Lumber Company, held in Bay City, the

feeling uppermost in the minds of those present was one of wrath and indignation at Colonel Thorp, for he

still clung to the idea that it would be unwise to wind up the British Columbia end of the business. The

colonel's speech in reply was a triumph of diplomacy. He began by giving a detailed and graphic account of

his trip through the province, lighting up the narrative with incidents of adventure, both tragic and comic, to

such good purpose that before he had finished his hearers had forgotten all their anger. Then he told of what

he had seen of Ranald's work, emphasizing the largeness of the results he had obtained with his very

imperfect equipment. He spoke of the high place their manager held in the esteem of the community as

witness his visit to Ottawa as representative, and lastly he touched upon his work for the men by means of the

libraries and readingroom. Here he was interrupted by an impatient exclamation on the part of one of the

shareholders. The colonel paused, and fastening his eye upon the impatient shareholder, he said, in tones

cool and deliberate: "A gentleman says, 'Nonsense!' I confess that before my visit to the West I should have

said the same, but I want to say right here and now, that I have come to the opinion that it pays to look after

your mensoul, mind, and body. You'll cut more lumber, get better contracts, and increase your dividends.

There ain't no manner of doubt about that. Now," concluded the colonel, "you may still want to close up that

After some hesitation, Ranald was allowed to speak for a few minutes. He began by expressing his

amazement that there should be any thought on the part of the company of withdrawing from the province at

the very time when other firms were seeking to find entrance. He acknowledged that the result for the last

years did not warrant any great confidence in the future of their business, but a brighter day had dawned, the

railroad was coming, and he had in his pocket three contracts that it would require the company's whole force

for six months to fulfill, and these contracts would be concluded the day the first rail was laid.

"I have every assurance," said Ranald, quietly, "from the premier himself, that the building of the railroad

"Did Sir John A. MacDonald give you a definite promise?" asked the man, in surprise.

"But the premier assured me that all his influence would be thrown in favor of immediate construction."

"For my part," replied the shareholder, "I place not the slightest confidence in any such promise as that."

"And I," said Ranald, calmly, "have every confidence that work on the line will be started this fall." And then

he went on to speak of the future that he saw stretching out before the province and the whole Dominion. The

feeling of opposition in the air roused him like a call to battle, and the thought that he was pleading for the

West that he had grown to love, stimulated him like a draught of strong wine. In the midst of his speech the

secretary, who till that moment had not been present, came into the room with the evening paper in his hand.

He gave it to the president, pointing out a paragraph. At once the president, interrupting Ranald in his speech,

rose and said, "Gentlemen, there is an item of news here that I think you will all agree bears somewhat

directly upon this business." He then read Sir John A. MacDonald's famous telegram to the British Columbia

government, promising that the Canadian Pacific Railway should be begun that fall. After the cheers had died

away, Ranald rose again, and said, "Mr. President and gentlemen, there is no need that I should say anything

more. I simply wish to add that I return to British Columbia next week, but whether as manager for this

company or not that is a matter of perfect indifference to me." And saying this, he left the room, followed by

"You're all right, pardner," said the colonel, shaking him vigorously by the hand, "and if they don't feel like

playing up to your lead, then, by the great and everlasting Sammy, we will make a new deal and play it

"All right, Colonel," said Ranald; "I almost think I'd rather play it without them and you can tell them so."

"I've got to go to Toronto for a day," said Ranald; "the boys are foolish enough to get up a kind of dinner at

But when Ranald reached Toronto, he found disappointment awaiting him. The Alberts were ready to give

him an enthusiastic reception, but to his dismay both Harry and Kate were absent. Harry was in Quebec and

Kate was with her mother visiting friends at the Northern Lake, so Ranald was forced to content himself with

a letter of farewell and congratulation upon her approaching marriage. In spite of his disappointment, Ranald

could not help acknowledging a feeling of relief. It would have been no small ordeal to him to have met Kate,

to have told her how she had helped him during his three years' absence, without letting her suspect how

much she had become to him, and how sore was his disappointment that she could never be more than friend

to him, and indeed, not even that. But his letter was full of warm, frank, brotherly congratulation and good

The dinner at the Albert was in every way worthy of the club and of the occasion, but Ranald was glad to get

it over. He was eager to get away from the city associated in his mind with so much that was painful.

At length the last speech was made, and the last song was sung, and the men in a body marched to the station

carrying their hero with them. As they stood waiting for the train to pull out, a coachman in livery approached

"Well, she's got to be quick about it," said Merrill. "Here, Glengarry," he called to Ranald, "a lady is waiting

outside to see you, but I say, old chap, you will have to make it short, I guess it will be sweet enough."

"In here, sir," conducting him to the ladies' waitingroom, and taking his place at the door outside. Ranald

"Dear Kate!" he cried, running toward her with both hands outstretched, "this is more than kind of you, and

"I only heard last night, Ranald," she said, "from Maimie, that you were to be here today, and I could not let

you go." She stood up looking so brave and proud, but in spite of her, her lips quivered.

"I have waited to see you so long," she said, "and now you are going away again."

"Don't speak like that, Kate," said Ranald, "don't say those things. I want to tell you how you have helped me

these three lonely years, but I can't, and you will never know, and now I am going back. I hardly dared to see

you, but I wish you everything that is good. I haven't seen Harry either, but you will wish him joy for me. He

By this time Ranald had regained control of himself, and was speaking in a tone of frank and brotherly

"I've seen Maimie," Ranald went on, "and she told me all about it, and I amyes, I am very glad." Still Kate

looked a little puzzled, but the minutes were precious, and she had much to say.

"Oh, Ranald!" she cried, "I have so much to say to you. You have become a great man, and you are good. I

am so proud when I hear of you," and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, "I pray for you every day."

As Ranald stood gazing at the beautiful face, and noticed the quivering lips and the dark eyes shining with

tears she was too brave to let fall, he felt that he was fast losing his grip of himself.

"Oh, Kate," he cried, in a low, tense voice, "I must go. You have been more to me than you will ever know.

"Yes," cried Ranald, hurriedly, "Harry will, I'm sure, for if any one can make him happy, you can."

"Oh," cried Kate, her voice broken between a sob and a laugh, "won't Harry and Lily enjoy this?"

"Yes, Lily," cried Kate; "didn't you know Lily Langford, Harry's dearest and most devoted?"

"Oh, Kate, tell me, is this all true? Are you still free? And is there any use?"

"Merrill," said Ranald, solemnly, "tell the fellows I'm not going on this train."

"Hoorah!" cried little Merrill, "I guess I'll tell 'em you are gone. May I tell the fellows, Kate?"

"Yes, Merrill," cried Ranald, in a voice strident with ecstasy, "you may tell them. Tell the whole town."

The men came trooping at his call, but only to see Ranald and Kate disappearing through the other door.

"I say, little man," said big Starry Hamilton, "call yourself together if you can. Who've both gone? In short,

"Why, Kate Raymond, you blessed idiot!" cried Merrill, rushing for the door, followed by the whole crowd.

"Three cheers for Macdonald!" cried Starry Hamilton, as the carriage drove away, and after the three cheers

and the tiger, little Merrill's voice led them in the old battlecry, heard long ago on the river, but afterward on