o change the subject. It is embarrassing for a modest man to
talk about himself.

"You're workin' that 'W' upside down," he said.

"Am I? Who said, it was a 'W'?"

"I guessed it might be."

"You're a bad guesser. It's an 'M.' 'M' stands for McRae, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and 'W' for Winthrop," he said with a little flare of boldness.

A touch of soft color flagged her cheeks. "And 'I' for impudence," she
retorted with a smile that robbed the words of offense.

He was careful not to risk outstaying his welcome. After an hour he
rose to go. His good-bye to Matapi-Koma and Onistah was made in the
large living-room.

Jessie followed him to the outside door.

He gave her a word of comfort as he buttoned his coat, "Don't you
worry about Win. I'll keep an eye on him."

"Thank you. And he'll keep one on you, I suppose."

He laughed. That reversal of the case was a new idea to him. The
prettiest girl in the North was not holding her breath till he
returned safely. "I reckon," he said. "We'll team together fine."

"Don't be foolhardy, either of you," she cautioned.

"No," he promised, and held out his hand. "Good-bye, if I don't see
you in the mornin'."

He did not know she was screwing up her courage and had been for half
an hour to do something she had never done before. She plunged at it,
a tide of warm blood beating into her face beneath the tan.

"'M' is for Morse too, and 'T' for Tom," she said.

With the same motion she thrust the gun-case into his hand and him out
of the door.

He stood outside, facing a closed door, the bit of fancy-work in his
mittens. An exultant electric tingle raced through his veins. She had
given him a token of friendship he would cherish all his life.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE LONG TRAIL

For four days Whaley lay between life and death. There were hours when
the vital current in him ebbed so low that McRae thought it was the
beginning of the end. But after the fifth day he began definitely to
mend. His appetite increased. The fever in him abated. The delirium
passed away. Just a week from the time he had been wounded, McRae put
him on the cariole and took him to town over the hard crust of the
snow.

Beresford returned from Fort Edmonton a few hours later, carrying with
him an appointment for Morse as guide and deputy constable.

"Maintiens le droit," said the officer, clapping his friend on the
shoulder. "You're one of us now. A great chance for a short life you've
got.