cGill started. "I thought she was the wife of that nice-looking feller,
Barclay."

The captain grunted, and then after a moment added, "She's an actor of
some kind."

McGill opened his eyes in genuine astonishment. He opened his mouth
also, but changed his mind and fell to studying the flames once more.
"She's plumb beautiful," he said at length.

"All actors is beautiful," the captain remarked, wisely.

McGill slept badly that night, which was unusual for him, but when he
went to feed his dogs on the following morning he found Miss Andrews
ahead of him.

"What splendid creatures!" she said, petting them.

"Do you like dogs?" he queried.

"I love them. You know, these are the first I have ever seen of this
kind."

"Then you never rode behind a team?"

"No. I have only read about such things."

McGill summoned his courage and said, "Mebbe you'd like me to--give you
a ride?"

"_Would_ you? Oh, Mr. McGill!" She clapped her hands, and her eyes
widened at the prospect.

He noted how the brisk air had brought the blood to her cheeks, but
broke off the dangerous contemplation of her charms and fell to
harnessing the team, his fingers stiff with embarrassment. He helped her
into the basket-sled and then, at her request, tucked in the folds of
her coat. It was a novel sensation and one he had never dreamed of
having, for he would not have dared touch any woman without a command.

It was not much of a ride, for the trails were poor, but the girl seemed
to enjoy it, and to McGill it was wonderful. He felt that he was making
an awful spectacle of himself, however, and hoped no one had seen them
leave; he was so big and so ungainly to be playing squire, and, above
all, he was so old.

He could think of nothing to say on the excursion, but when she thanked
him upon their return he was more than paid for his misery. As they
drove up, Barclay was watching them from the high bank, and Miss Andrews
waved a mitten at him. Later, when McGill had left for a moment, the
young man began, sourly:

"Making a play for the old party, eh?"

"He isn't old," said Miss Andrews, carelessly.

"What's the idea?"

"I don't know that I have any idea. Why?"

"Humph! I'm interested--naturally."

"You needn't be. It's every one for himself up here, and you don't seem
to be getting ahead very fast."

"I see. McGill's due to be a millionaire, and I'm down and out," Barclay
sneered. "Well, we're neither of us children. If you can la