ill laughed. "I've never seen a cow
north of the Frazer--not this side of the Rockies, anyway."

They saddled their horses, and rode out in the direction from whence
had arisen the bovine complaint. The sound was not repeated, and Hazel
had begun to chaff Bill about a too-vivid imagination when within a
half mile of the clearing he pulled his horse up short in the middle of
a little meadow.

"Look!"

The track of a broad-tired wagon had freshly crushed the thick grass.
Bill squinted at the trail, then his gaze swept the timber beyond.

"Well!"

"What is it, Bill?" Hazel asked.

"Somebody has been cutting timber over there," he enlightened. "I can
see the fresh ax work. Looks like they'd been hauling poles. Let's
follow this track a ways."

The tiny meadow was fringed on the north by a grove of poplars. Beyond
that lay another clear space of level land, perhaps forty acres in
extent. They broke through the belt of poplars--and pulled up again.

On one side of the meadow stood a cabin, the fresh-peeled log walls
glaring yellow in the sun, and lifting an earth-covered roof to the
autumn sky. Bill whistled softly.

"I'll be hanged," he uttered, "if there isn't the cow!"

Along the west side of the meadow ran a brown streak of sod, and down
one side of this a man guided the handles of a plow drawn by the
strangest yokemates Hazel's eyes had seen for many a day.

"For goodness' sake!" she exclaimed.

"That's the true pioneer spirit for you," Bill spoke absently. "He has
bucked his way into the heart of a virgin country, and he's breaking
sod with a mule and a cow. That's adaptation to environment with a
vengeance--and grit."

"There's a woman, too, Bill. And see--she's carrying a baby!" Hazel
pointed excitedly. "Oh, Bill!"

"Let's go over." He stirred up his horse. "What did I tell you about
folk that hanker for lots of elbow-room? They're coming."

The man halted his strangely assorted team to watch them come. The
woman stood a step outside the door, a baby in her arms, another
toddler holding fast to her skirt. A thick-bodied, short,
square-shouldered man was this newcomer, with a round, pleasant face.

"Hello, neighbor!" Bill greeted.

The plowman lifted his old felt hat courteously. His face lit up.

"_Ach_!" said he. "Neighbor. Dot iss a goot vord in diss country vere
dere iss no neighbor. But I am glat to meet you. Vill you come do der
house und rest a v'ile?"

"Sure!" Bil