nd art, and complicated machines run by men who haven't much
regard for the fastidious niceties of civilization, though they're
unexcelled in their engineering skill. We undertake big works in an
unconsidered manner that would scare your cautious English minds, make
wild blunders, and go ahead without counting the damage. We come down
pretty hard often, but it never brings us to a stop."

He saw that she did not grasp all he meant to convey, and he leaned back
in his chair with a laugh.

"This is the kind of fool talk you would expect from a boastful
Westerner, isn't it?"

"No," she replied somewhat formally; "that isn't what I thought. I find
everything I see and hear interesting, but there's much I can't
understand. One has to feel for its meaning."

"It's a very proper attitude," he rejoined with amusement. "So long as
you don't bring over a ready-made standard to measure our shortcomings
by, we'll explain all we can. In fact, it's a thing we're fond of doing."
Then his tone grew grave. "But I haven't seen your father since this
morning. Is he at the muskeg?"

"Yes. I'm getting anxious about him; the trouble is preying on his mind.
Grief, of course, is a natural feeling, but he thinks of nothing except
revenge. He's growing haggard and losing his judgment. I'm almost afraid
to think what may happen if he finds anything that looks like a clue. The
shock has shaken him terribly."

"And you?"

"I feel half guilty because I've been so calm since I came here, but I
can't believe the worst. You have reassured me." She paused and added
softly: "And I'm very grateful."

"I'm glad." Prescott's tone was sympathetic. "But I can imagine what your
father feels. From a few things he has told me, he seems to have led a
smooth, well-ordered life; no doubt he made too much of the trouble your
brother caused him."

"Yes; I think so now."

"Perhaps he half-consciously formed an idea that things would always go
tranquilly with him, and when it came without warning the shock of
Cyril's disappearance was too strong. And yet I firmly believe he's
mistaken in his fears."

Gertrude made a sign of agreement.

"Nothing I can say calms him. One can only wait."

"And that's always hard," Prescott said gently.

She roused him to strong compassion. She had, he thought, no great depth
of character, but her development had been checked by many restraints.
Her father had curbed each natural impulse, until the little originality
in