," said Mrs. Cochrane, her broad good-natured face
beaming with health and good humor, "what difference does it make?
Your neighbors are only too glad of a chance to show their goodwill for
yourself, and more for your wife."

"I am sure you are right there," said Cameron.

"And it is the way of the country. We must stick together, John says.
It's your turn to-day, it may be ours to-morrow and that's all there
is to it. So clear out of this tent and make yourself busy. By the way,
where's the pipes? The folk will soon be asking for a tune."

"But I want to know, Mrs. Cochrane," persisted Cameron.

"Where's the pipes, I'm saying. John," she cried, lifting her voice, to
her husband, who was standing at the other side of the house. "Where's
the pipes? They're not burned, I hope," she continued, turning to
Cameron. "The whole settlement would feel that a loss."

"Fortunately no. Young Macgregor at the Fort has them."

"Then I wonder if they are here. John, find out from the Inspector
yonder where the pipes are. We will be wanting them this evening."

To her husband's inquiry the Inspector replied that if Macgregor ever
had the pipes it was a moral certainty that he had carried them with him
to the raising, "for it is my firm belief," he added, "that he sleeps
with them."

"Do go and see now, like a dear man," said Mrs. Cochrane to Cameron.

From group to group of the workers Cameron went, exchanging greetings,
but persistently seeking to discover the originator of the raising
bee. But all in vain, and in despair he came back to his wife with the
question "Who is this Smith, anyway?"

"Mr. Smith," she said with deliberate emphasis, "is my friend, my
particular friend. I found him a friend when I needed one badly."

"Yes, but who is he?" inquired Moira, who, with Mr. Dent in attendance,
had sauntered up. "Who is he, Mr. Dent? Do you know?"

"No, not from Adam's mule. He's old Thatcher's man. That's all I know
about him."

"He is Mr. Thatcher's man? Oh!" said Moira, "Mr. Thatcher's servant." A
subtle note of disappointment sounded in her voice.

"Servant, Moira?" said Allan in a shocked tone. "Wipe out the thought.
There is no such thing as servant west of the Great Lakes in this
country. A man may help me with my work for a consideration, but he is
no servant of mine as you understand the term, for he considers himself
just as good as I am and he may be considerably better."

"Oh, Allan," protested his sister