Indeed, the inflection of her voice held something in it that was
nearly caressing. Kid Follansbee had long admired her, but of late he
had been quite hopeless. He had observed the favor in which Ennis had
seemed to stand before the girl, and had perhaps been rather jealous.
It was pleasant to be spoken to so agreeably now.

"We ain't supposed to tell," he informed her, apologetically. "It's
against the rules. Private messages ain't supposed to be told to
anyone."

"But you'll tell me, Joe, won't you?" she asked again, smiling at
him.

It was a chance to get even with the man he deemed his rival and he
couldn't very well throw it away.

"Well, I will if ye'll promise not to repeat it," he said, after a
moment's hesitation. "It's some woman by the name of Madge who's wired
to Ennis she's coming."

"But when's she due, Joe?"

"It just says 'Leaving New York this evening. Please have some one to
meet me. Madge Nelson.'"

"For--for the land's sakes!"

She turned, having suddenly become quite oblivious of Joe, who was
staring at her, and walked back slowly over the hard-packed snow that
crackled under her feet in the intense cold.

"I--I don't care," she told herself, doggedly. "I--I guess she'll just
tear his eyes out when she finds out she's been fooled. She'll be
tellin' everybody and--and they'll believe her, of course, and--and
like enough they'll laugh at him, now, instead of me."

During this time Stefan rode his light toboggan when the snow was not
too hummocky, or when the grade favored his bushy-tailed and
long-nosed team. At other times he broke trail for them or, when the
old tote-road allowed, ran alongside. With all his fast traveling it
took him nearly three hours to reach the shack that stood on the bank,
just a little way below the great falls of Roaring River. Here he
abandoned the old road that was so seldom traveled since lumbering
operations had been stopped in that district, owing to the removal of
available pine and spruce. At a word from him the dogs sat down in
their traces, their wiry coats giving out a thin vapor, and he went
down the path to the log building. The door was closed and he had
already noted that no film of smoke came from the stove-pipe. While it
was evident that Ennis was not at home Stefan knocked before pushing
his way in. The place was deserted, as he had conjectured. Drawing off
his mitt he ascertained that the ashes in the stove were still warm.
There was a rou