curtains of fur were dropped within and a
barricade raised without. There were only the blazing logs to give light
and make shadows about. They hovered around it, ate nuts, parched corn,
and heated their smoked eels. They slept late in the morning and went to
bed early. The lack of exercise and vegetables told on health, and
towards spring more than one of the little band went their way to the
land beyond and left a painful vacancy. But one week there came a
marvellous change. The mountains of snow sank down into hills, there was
a rush in the river, the barricades were removed from the windows and
the fur hangings pushed aside to let in some welcome light.

Rose ran around wild. "I can recall last spring," she said, with a burst
of gayety. "The trees coming out in leaf, the birds singing, the
blossoms----"

"And the garden," interposed Destournier.

Rose made a wry face.

"It will be an excellent thing for you to run about out of doors. You
have lost your rosy cheeks."

"But I am Rose still," she said archly.

She ran gayly one day, she went up the stream in the canoe with
Destournier and was full of merriment. But the next day she felt
strangely languid. Most of the men had gone hunting. Mere Dubray was
piling away some of the heaviest furs.

"Thou wilt roast there in the chimney corner," she said rather sharply.
"Get thee out of doors in the fresh air again. It is silly to think one
cannot stir without a troop of men tagging to one. Thou art too young
for such folly."

"My legs ache," returned the child, "and my head feels queer and goes
round when I stir. And I am sleepy, as if there had not been any night."

Mere Dubray glanced at her sharply.

"Why, thy cheeks are red and thy eyes bright. Come, stir about or I
shall take a stick to thee. That will liven thee up."

The child rose and made a few uncertain steps. Then she flung out her
hands wildly, and the next instant fell in a little heap on the floor.

The elder looked at her in amaze and shook her rather roughly by the
arm. And now the redness was gone and the child had a strange gray look,
with her eyes rolled up so that only a little of the pupil showed.

"Saint Elizabeth have mercy!" she cried. "The child is truly ill. And
she has been so well and strong. And the doctor gone up to Tadoussac!"

She laid her on the rude couch. Rose began to mutter and then broke into
a pitiful whine. There were some herbs that every householder gathered,
there