ce dead, dying in the harness of the toil they
had both loved, and which they bequeathed to their children. These two
men had never seen the prairie. They had never left their mountain
fastnesses. They had never even gone south to where the railway bores
its way through the Wild.

They had been born to the life of the trapper and knew no other. They
lived and enjoyed their lives, for they were creatures of Nature who
understood and listened when she spoke. They had no other education. The
men lived together harmoniously, practically independent of all other
human companionship.

At long intervals, when pelts had accumulated and supplies had run low,
they visited the cabin of an obscure trader. Otherwise they were cut off
from the world and rejoiced in their isolation.

"Yes, we've had the warnin' this week past," rejoined Nick solemnly, as
he affectionately polished the butt of his rifle with a rag greased with
bear's fat. "Them 'patch' winds at sunrise an' sunset ain't sent fer
nothin'. I 'lows Hell's hard on the heels o' this breeze. When the wind
quits there'll be snow, an' snow means us bein' banked in. Say, she's
boomin'. Hark to her. You can hear her tearin' herself loose from
som'eres up on the hilltops."

Nick looked round the hut as though expecting to see the storm break
through the walls of their shelter. A heavy storm always affected the
superstitious side of these men's natures. A blizzard to them was as the
Evil Spirit of the mountains. They always possessed the feeling,
somewhere deep down in their hearts, that the attack of a storm was
directed against them. And the feeling was a mute acknowledgment that
they were interlopers in Nature's most secret haunts.

Ralph had planted himself upon an upturned bucket, and sat with his
hands thrust out towards the stove. He was smoking, and his eyes were
directed in a pensive survey at a place where the black iron of the
stove was steadily reddening.

Presently he looked up.

"Ha' ye fed the dogs, lad?" he asked.

"Ay."

The two relapsed into silence. The creaking of the hut was like the
protest of a wooden ship riding a heavy storm at sea. The men shifted
their positions with every fresh burst which struck their home; it was
as though they personally felt each shock, and their bones ached with
the strain of battle. The smoke curled up slowly from Ralph's pipe and a
thin cloud hovered just beneath the roof. The red patch on the stove
widened and communi