heir departed mother. We know not, for we
never met her. Certain it is that they did not in the least resemble
their undeparted father--except in looks, for McKay senior had been a
handsome man, though at the time we introduce him his good looks, like
his temper, had nearly fled, and he was considerably shrivelled up by
age, hard work, and exposure. The poor man was too old to emigrate to a
wilderness home when he had set out for the Red River Colony, and the
unusual sufferings, disappointments, and hardships to which the first
settlers were exposed had told heavily on even younger men than he.

Elspie's love for her father was intense; her pity for him in his
misfortunes was very tender; and, now that he was brought face to face
with, perhaps, the greatest danger that had ever befallen him, her
anxiety to relieve and comfort him was very touching. She seemed quite
to forget herself, and the fact that she might perish on the bleak
plains along with her father did not seem even to occur to her.

"It wass madness to come here, _whatever_," said the poor old man, as he
cowered over the small fire, which his son Fergus had kindled before
leaving, and which Elspie had kept up with infinite labour and
difficulty ever since.

The remark was made testily to himself, for Elspie had gone into the
surrounding bush, axe in hand, to find, if possible, and cut down some
more small pieces of firewood. When she returned with an armful of dry
sticks, he repeated the sentiment still more testily, and added--"If it
wass not for Tuncan, I would have been at home this night in my warm
bed, wi' a goot supper inside o' me, instead o' freezin' an' starvin'
oot here on the plain among the snow. It's mischief that boy wass
always after from the tay he wass born."

"But you know that poor Duncan could not guess we were to have such
awful weather, or that the buffalo would be so scarce. Come now, dear
daddy," said the cheery girl, as she heaped on wood and made a blaze
that revived the old man, "I'll warm up some more of the tea. There's a
very little left--and--and--it surely won't be long till God sends
Daniel and Fergus back to us with food."

Old McKay was somewhat mollified by her manner, or by the fire, or by
the prospect of relief held out, for his tone improved decidedly.

"Try the bag again, lass," he said, "maybe you'll find a crumb or two in
the corners yet. It will do no harm to try."

Obediently poor Elspie tried, but