f his
tent, and then for an instant he saw a face. In that instant he sat as
rigid as if he had stopped the beat of his own life. A pair of dark eyes
laughing in at him, a flash of laughing teeth, a low titter that was
scarce more than a rippling throat-note, and the face was gone, leaving
him still staring into the blank space where it had been.

With a cough to give warning of his wakefulness, Steele flung off his
blanket and drew himself through the low opening of the tent. On the
extreme right of the fire stood a man and woman, warming themselves over
the coals. They straightened from their leaning posture as he appeared.

"This is too bad, too bad, Mr. Steele," exclaimed the man, advancing
quickly. "I was afraid we'd make a blunder and awaken you. We were about
to camp on a mountain back there when we saw your fire and drove on to
it. I'm sorry--"

"Wouldn't have had you miss me for anything," interrupted Steele,
gripping the other's proffered hand. "You see, I'm out from Lac Bain to
meet Colonel and Mrs. Becker, and--" He hesitated purposely, his white
teeth gleaming in the frank smile which made people like him immensely,
from the first.

"You've met them," completed the laughing voice from across the fire.
"Please, Mr. Steele, will you forgive me for looking in at you and
waking you up? But your feet looked so terribly funny, and I assure you
that was all I could see, though I tried awfully hard. Anyway, I saw
your name printed on the flap of your tent."

Steele felt a slow fire burning in his cheeks as he encountered the
beautiful eyes glowing at him from behind the colonel. The woman was
smiling at him. In the heat of the fire she had pushed back her fur
turban, and he saw that her hair was the same shining red gold that had
come to him in the letter, and that her lips and eyes and the glorious
color in her face were remarkably like those of which he had dreamed,
and of which waking visions had come with the hyacinth letter to fill
him with unrest and homesickness. In spite of himself he had reasoned
that she would be young and that she would have golden hair, but these
other things, the laughing beauty of her face, the luring depth of her
eyes.

He caught himself staring.

"I--I was dreaming," he almost stammered. He pulled himself together
quickly. "I was dreaming of a face, Mrs. Becker, It seems strange that
this should happen--away up here, in this way. The face that I dreamed
of is a thousand mil