try an' yeh git a sweetheart I'll do my best to
separate yeh! 'F yeh've got a sister I'll have her! I'll--I'll--God! But
I hate yeh!"

[Illustration]

Chapter III.

The Hot Blood of Youth

The spring warmed into summer, the summer melted into autumn. Autumn, in
turn, chilled into the white world of winter. All thoughts of the little
girl on the _Far West_ had slipped from the mind of Danvers, and even
the memory of Miss Thornhill became faint--obliterated by the strenuous
life of the service. Promotion came in his third year of service as a
reward for intelligence and efficiency. Danvers was offered and accepted
a commission. He felt that life was good. Fears and homesickness had
long since disappeared; the longings for other and more congenial,
refined and feminine associates came but seldom; still, the desire for
the understanding of one alone, for a loved wife and a son to bear his
name was not dead--it was simply dormant in that womanless land.

"The doctor will be here next week," announced Arthur Latimer, who had
been bookkeeper in one of the trading-posts ever since he had come to
Macleod, soon after Danvers was made a second lieutenant. "Colonel
Macleod, I hear, has invited quite a party to visit him from Fort
Benton."

"Yes. I heard from the doctor, too." Philip smiled at thought of his
friend's surprise at his new rank.

It was not long before the visitors arrived, and, greatly to Danvers'
surprise, Miss Thornhill, accompanied by her father, the major, was
among them.

The first white woman that he had seen for three years! He had never
before realized how dainty a lady is in comparison with her sisters of
the lodges. They may be kin in the world relationship, but, oh! the
difference one from the other. The squaws, standing stolidly by, were
intolerable. As Eva walked consciously past with Colonel Macleod,
attended by the staff officers, she gave no sign of recognition other
than a heightened color and lowered eye-lashes; but Philip felt that she
recognized him. Before the girl reached the barracks Mr. Burroughs
entered the stockade. With the assurance of a favored acquaintance, he
advanced and pressed the hand of Miss Thornhill.

Danvers turned away. So new a mood assailed him that he went outside the
stockade and prowled along the outer wall, not waiting to do more than
greet the doctor. How he longed for a touch of that dainty hand, for a
word from Eva--from _any_ young woman of his own