tly was sensible of no lack--but the breeds do not bring
up their daughters to expect tenderness. Her eyes sparkled. "How pretty
it is, 'Erbe't!" she breathed. "Ver' moch good land!" She spoke the
pretty, clipped English of the convent school.

At their feet lay a shallow valley, hidden close until the very moment
of stumbling upon it. In it was a sparkling slough but large enough to
be dignified with the name of lake. It was something the shape of a
gourd, with a long end that curved out of sight below, a very girdle of
blue velvet binding the waists of the brown hills. At their left the
shores of the wider part of the lake, the bulb of the gourd, were, in
unexpected contrast to the bareness of the uplands, heavily wooded with
great cottonwood trees and spruce. A grassy islet ringed with willows
seemed to be moored here like the barge of some woodland princess. Away
beyond, elevated on a grassy terrace at the head of the lake, and
overlooking its whole expanse, stood a tiny weather-beaten shack,
startlingly conspicuous in that great expanse of untouched nature.
Sheltered by the hills from the howling blasts of the prairie above; and
with wood, water and unlimited game at its door, it was a wholly
desirable situation for a Northern dwelling--but it was seventy-five
miles off the trail.

The girl brought her pony alongside Mabyn's; and slipped her hand into
his. "It is jus' right!" she whispered. "We will be ver' happy,
'Erbe't!"

He let her hand fall carelessly. "It's damn lonesome!" he grumbled.

All the shy boldness of an enamoured girl peeped out of Rina's eyes, as
she whispered: "I'm glad it's lonesome! I don' want nobody to come--but
you!"

Mabyn was unimpressed. He struck the ribs of his tired pony with his
heels. "Come on," he said; and led the way down the incline.

Later, reaching the shack, on the threshold Rina spread out her arms
with an unconscious gesture. "This is my home!" she cried. "I will jus'
love it!"

Mabyn looking around at the gaping walls, the empty panes and the foul
litter, laughed jeeringly at her simplicity.

The girl was too happy to feel the sting. "I will fix it!" she said
stoutly. "I will mak' it like an outside house. It will be as nice than
the priest's parlour in the Settlement!" She clasped her hands against
her breast in the intensity of her eagerness. "Jus' you wait, 'Erbe't!
Some day I will have white curtains in the window! and a piece of carpet
on the floor! and a holy