once the men even sang!

Morning of the second day,--and again the sunshine, causing dripping
streams from the long, laden branches of the pines and spruce, filling
the streams bank-full, here and there cutting through the blanket of
white to the dun-brown earth again. Work over, Houston leaned out the
door of the bunk car, drinking in the sunshine, warm for the first time
in weeks, it seemed,--and warm in heart and spirit. If she would only
keep her promise! If she would allow Medaine to see her! If she would
tell her the truth,--about the contract, the lease, and most of all
that accusation. If--

The whistles again,--and crowded forms at the doors of the cars.
Tabernacle was in the distance, while men and women waded through the
soggy snows to be the first to reach the train. Happiness gleamed on
the features of the inhabitants of a beleagured land shut away from the
world for weeks, men and women who saw no shame in the tears which
streamed down their cheeks, and who sought not to hide them. Eagerly
Barry searched the thronging crowd, at last to catch sight of a
gigantic figure, his wolf-dog beside him. He leaped from the car even
before it had ceased to move.

"Ba'tiste!" he called. "Ba'tiste!"

Great arms opened wide. A sob came from the throat of a giant.

"_Mon_ Baree! _Mon_ Baree!" It was all he could say for a moment.
Then, "_Mon_ Baree, he have come back to Ba'teese. Ah, Golemar! _Mon_
Baree, he have come back, he have come back!"

"We've won, Ba'tiste! The line's open--they'll be running trains
through before night. And if she keeps her promise--"

"She?" Ba'tiste stared down at him. They had drawn away from the rest
of the excited, noisy throng. "She? You mean--"

"Agnes. You've been taking care of her, haven't you? I found her--she
promised that she would tell the truth for me when I got back, that she
would explain the lease and contract and tell Medaine that it was all a
lie. She--"

But Ba'tiste Renaud shook his head.

"No, Baree. Eet is the too late. I have jus' come--from there. I
have close her eyes."

CHAPTER XXIV

Dead! Houston saw Medaine Robinette pass in the distance, and his eyes
followed her until she had rounded the curve by the dead aspens,--the
eyes of lost hope. For it was upon life that he had planned and
dreamed; that the woman of the lonely cabin would stand by her promise
made in a time of stress and right at least some of the wrongs wh