a. You don't know and--here we are. How white Mandy is. What
a terrible experience for us all!"

"Terrible indeed," echoed the doctor.

"Terrible?" said Moira. "It might have been worse."

To this neither made reply, but there came a day when both doubted such
a possibility.

CHAPTER XI

SMITH'S WORK

The short September day was nearly gone. The sun still rode above the
great peaks that outlined the western horizon. Already the shadows were
beginning to creep up the eastern slope of the hills that clambered till
they reached the bases of the great mountains. A purple haze hung over
mountain, hill and rolling plain, softening the sharp outlines that
ordinarily defined the features of the foothill landscape.

With the approach of evening the fierce sun heat had ceased and a
fresh cooling western breeze from the mountain passes brought welcome
refreshment alike to the travelers and their beasts, wearied with their
three days' drive.

"That is the last hill, Moira," cried her sister-in-law, pointing to a
long slope before them. "The very last, I promise you. From the top
we can see our home. Our home, alas, I had forgotten! There is no home
there, only a black spot on the prairie."

Her husband grunted savagely and cut sharply at the bronchos.

"But the tent will be fine, Mandy. I just long for the experience," said
Moira.

"Yes, but just think of all my pretty things, and some of Allan's too,
all gone."

"Were the pipes burned, Allan?" cried Moira with a sudden anxiety.

"Were they, Mandy? I never thought," said Cameron.

"The pipes? Let me see. No--no--you remember, Allan, young--what's his
name?--that young Highlander at the Fort wanted them."

"Sure enough--Macgregor," said her husband in a tone of immense relief.

"Yes, young Mr. Macgregor."

"My, but that is fine, Allan," said his sister. "I should have grieved
if we could not hear the pipes again among these hills. Oh, it is all so
bonny; just look at the big Bens yonder."

It was, as she said, all bonny. Far toward their left the low hills
rolled in soft swelling waves toward the level prairie, and far away to
the right the hills climbed by sharper ascents, flecked here and
there with dark patches of fir, and broken with jutting ledges of gray
limestone, climbed till they reached the great Rockies, majestic in
their massive serried ranges that pierced the western sky. And all that
lay between, the hills, the hollows, the rolling prairie,