snowbank
in front of her, as suddenly it shut out her mirage of home. The girl
gave a cry of despair with all the feeble strength that was left in her
and tumbled headlong into the cold embrace of the snow. But the snow was
no longer cold. It was strangely warm and she was shut away from the
cruel winds.

CHAPTER XXIII.

JACK IS HAPPY.

"CHILLUNS, it's time for bed," Cousin Ruth announced softly. "Frieda has
been asleep in my arms for the last ten minutes. Perhaps I can tumble
her in bed without waking her, she is so frightened at the storm."

Jean glanced up at the clock over the living-room mantle. "Do let's wait
a little while longer?" she begged. "I am just at the most thrilling
part of my book and I am bound to finish it before I go to bed. Jack,
you stay here with me, if Cousin Ruth is going with Frieda. I don't like
to sit up alone. This storm is a terror! Listen how the wind howls down
the chimney. I hope our stock won't be frozen to death to-night."

Ruth led Frieda gently out of the sitting-room while Jack got up and
wandered to the window. But the frost covered the glass. She scratched a
little space away with a hairpin, but there was nothing to see outside
save the snow.

Jack walked restlessly up and down the room for a minute. It was just
nine o'clock and she did not feel like going to bed. She could not read
as Jean was doing. These terrible western storms, that came once or
twice every winter, always filled her with foreboding. Jack was too good
a rancher not to understand that they caused great suffering and loss
among the cattle. The rude corrals, which the ranchmen built for their
stock, could not save them on a night like this.

Jack dropped down on her knees before their book shelves and began to
look over the collection of volumes that had once belonged to her
father. The books were the same ones that Jean had found in her uncle's
trunk and brought to the living-room to impress their new governess on
the day of her arrival at Rainbow Lodge. Shep got up from his warm place
by the fire and trotted over to lie down by Jack, seeming to know that
she was worried and wishing to offer her his subtle sympathy.

Jack turned over the pages of half a dozen books, shaking them, so that
every leaf fluttered apart.

Jean glanced over at her cousin. Jack was quieter and older than ever
to-night. "What are you doing, Jack, want me to help you?" Jean asked
lovingly.

"No, Jean, I am not doing a