rong courage battling with emotion.
Her gray eyes, no longer soft, were steady, however. Her brows were
markedly drawn. Her lips, too, were firm, heroically firm.

She held out her letter to the Padre. It was noticeable she did not
offer it to Murray.

"Read it," she said. Then she added: "You can all read it. Alec, too."

The two men closed in on either side of Father Jose. The woman looked
on while the three pairs of eyes read the firm clear handwriting.

"Well?" she demanded, as the men looked up from their reading, and the
priest thoughtfully refolded the paper.

Alec's tongue was the more ready to express his thoughts.

"God!" he cried. "It means--massacre!"

The priest turned on him in reproof. His keen eyes shone like
burnished steel.

"Keep silent--you," he cried, in a sharp, staccato way.

The hot blood mounted to the boy's cheek, whether in abashment or in
anger would be impossible to say. He was prevented from further word
by Murray McTavish who promptly took command.

"Say, there's no time for talk," he said, in his decisive fashion.
"It's up to us to get busy right away." He turned to the priest.
"Father, I need two crews for the big canoes right off--now. You'll
get 'em. Good crews for the paddle. Best let Keewin pick 'em. Eh,
Keewin?" The Indian nodded. "Keewin'll take charge of one, and I the
other. I can make Bell River under the week. I'll drive the crews to
the limit, an' maybe make the place in four days. I'll get right back
to the store now for the arms and ammunition, and the grub. We start
in an hour's time."

Then he turned on Alec. There was no question in his mind. He had
made his decisions clearly and promptly.

"See, boy," he said. "You'll stay right here. I'm aware you don't
fancy the store. But fer once you'll need to run it. But more than
all you'll be responsible nothing goes amiss for the women-folk. Their
care is up to you, in your father's absence. Get me? Father Jose'll
help you all he knows."

Then, without awaiting reply, he turned to Allan Mowbray's wife. His
tone changed to one of the deepest gravity.

"Ma'am," he said, "whatever man can do to help your husband now, I'll
do. I'll spare no one in the effort. Certainly not myself. That's my
word."

The wife's reply came in a voice that was no longer steady.

"Thank you, Murray--for myself and for Allan. God--bless you."

Murray had turned already to return to the Fort when Alec