due to her urgent pleading with Stephen that Will had
obtained the place on the claim, but his wife did not seem to know, and
Katrine did not tell her.

"But then it don't lead to nothing," continued Annie, despairingly. "He
can't look out for himself if he's working another man's ground."

"Well, he only does a few hours' work, I believe, and has the rest of
the day to look round for himself," returned Katrine.

"It don't amount to much, anyway; this time of the year there ain't no
day to speak of," replied the other, gazing plaintively through the dim
glass of the window. "And then if he do see a bit of land he fancies,
why, he can't buy it, he's got no money."

"I think Mr. Wood will advance him enough to buy any ground he thinks
well of," replied Katrine, gently.

"Mr. Wood!" repeated Annie, opening her sunken eyes wide with the first
display of interest she had shown. "Why should he help my man along?"

"I don't know," returned Katrine, evasively, with heightened colour;
"but he told me he would do so, and I know he will. How is Tim to-day?"
she added suddenly, to divert the conversation.

The mother looked round.

"Tim!" she called; "where is that child? Katie, you go and look if you
can see him in the wood-shed."

Katrine crossed the room to the lean-to attached to the cabin and looked
in. On the floor of the wood-shed, with the happy indifference to the
cold usually displayed by Klondike infants, little Tim sat on the floor
with a pile of chips beside him. Great icicles hung from the rafters
above him, and his tiny hands were blue with cold, but he was
contentedly and silently piling up the wood on the frozen ground.
Katrine picked him up and carried him into the next room, and put him by
the fire at his mother's feet. He did not cry nor offer any resistance,
but when put in his new location looked round for a few minutes, and
then calmly leaned towards the stove and began to play with the cinders
in place of his vanished wood chips.

"What a good little fellow he is!" said Katrine, leaning over him.

"Yes; he's his mother's darling, that's what he is!" returned the other,
stooping to smooth the curly head that was only a shade lighter than
her own.

"Will you have some coffee?" asked Annie presently, looking helplessly
towards the dirty stove, where a feeble fire was burning sulkily amongst
the old wood ash.

"No," returned Katrine, cheerfully; "you must be getting tired of
coffee. I brought you