words that carried with them the very scent
and silence of the hungry wilderness, there fell upon Shock's ears the
long howl and staccato bark of the prairie wolf. That lonely voice of
the wild West round them struck Shock's heart with a chill of fear, but
following hard upon the fear came the memory of the abiding dwelling
place for all desert pilgrims, and in place of his terror a great
quietness fell upon his spirit. The gaunt spectre of the hungry
wilderness vanished before the kindly presence of a great Companionship
that made even the unknown West seem safe and familiar as one's own
home. The quick change of feeling filled Shock's heart to overflowing,
so that when Mr. McIntyre, closing the Book, said, "You will lead us in
prayer, Mr. Macgregor," Shock could only shake his head in voiceless
refusal.

"You go on, David," said his wife, who had been watching Shock's face.

As Shock lay that night upon his bed of buffalo skins in the corner,
listening to the weird sounds of the night without, he knew that for
the present at least that haunting terror of the unknown and that
disturbing sense of his own insufficiency would not trouble him. That
dwelling place, quiet and secure, of the McIntyres' home in the midst
of the wide waste about was to him for many a day a symbol of that
other safe dwelling place for all pilgrims through earth's wilderness.

"Poor chap," said McIntyre to his wife when they had retired for the
night, "I'm afraid he'll find it hard work, especially at The Fort. He
is rather in the rough, you know."

"He has beautiful honest eyes," said his wife, "and I like him."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do," she replied emphatically.

"Then," said her husband, "in spite of all appearances he's all right."

VIII

THE OLD PROSPECTOR

Loon Lake lay in the afternoon sunlight, shimmering in its glory of
prismatic colours, on one side reflecting the rocks and the pines that
lined the shore and the great peaks that stood further back, and the
other lapping the grasses and reeds that edged its waters and joined it
to the prairie. A gentle breeze now and then breathed across the lake,
breaking into myriad fragments the glassy surface that lay like sheets
of polished multi-coloured metal of gold and bronze and silver, purple
and green and blue.

A young girl of about sixteen years, riding a cayuse along the lake
shore, suddenly reined in her pony and sat gazing upon the scene.

"After all," she said alou