nnocent, truthful--what more can man ask?"_

Danvers pulled himself up from the bench, wondering why the day had
grown so cold, where the sunshine had gone. He replaced Latimer's letter
in its envelope, dully, slowly:

"'Truthful--innocent!'" he quoted. "Poor Arthur!" He laughed--a dreadful
sound. Then he fell face downward--and so they found him.

* * * * *

A pale-faced youth looked with dilated eyes on the nearing town of Fort
Benton. It was Philip Danvers, late second lieutenant of the North West
Mounted Police of Canada. He had lived through the shock which the three
letters had brought on his fever-weakened frame, and during his
convalescence determined to leave the service and seek employment at
Fort Benton. To his colonel alone he gave his reasons. His sister Kate
was a delicate girl, unused to adversity. His pay was insufficient to
support her, even if she could have lived at Fort Macleod. She must be
safe-guarded. For three long, hard, lonely years he had dreamed of a
commission, and now that he had secured it he must give it up, together
with hope of further advancement. There was no alternative.

As the band played "The Girl I Left Behind Me" (invariably rendered when
men in the English service change garrison), O'Dwyer stepped forward to
say good-bye.

"Sure, Phil," he blubbered, "I'll lave the service 's soon's me time's
up, now ye're gone! I'll folley ye to Fort Benton!"

Danvers turned tear-dimmed eyes away from his friend, from the low fort
and the weather-beaten stockade, and resolutely denied himself the pain
of looking back to catch the last flutter of the Union Jack as the long
rise of land dipped toward the south. How often had he strained his eyes
to see that symbol of his country as he returned from the various forays
and hunting trips! But duty called! This was the only thought that he
dared allow himself--and his sister, his sister! She had no one but him
to look to, and in his loneliness she was a comforting thought, and
worth all the sacrifice of his life's ambitions.

While he had lain unconscious, in his illness, she had arrived at the
head of navigation, and had written him girlish, impatient letters. He
knew that Latimer would look out for her if he and Eva had returned from
their wedding trip, but he was sure they had not, and felt an equal
relief that he need offer no congratulations. The doctor, too, Arthur
had told him, was in St. Louis. He wonde