rottenness of western civilisation. It was upon such occasions that he
saw, or thought he saw, the inevitable tendency of European cities to
emasculate and corrupt the rugged nobilities of mankind. A revolt
against artificiality had followed. Immediately, there in the heart of
the world's greatest city, there had grown up about him the mirage of
the primeval forest, whose boughs are steeped in silence, borne up by
tall bare trunks, which lured him on to explore and adventure through
untried lands, where quiet grows intense and intenser at each new
step, till he should arrive at that ultimate contentment for which he
blindly sought.

He laughed at the memory, smiling bitterly at the manner in which that
former self had been beguiled. As if to give emphasis to his jest he
arose from his box, lounged over to the window, cleared its panes of
mist with his hand, and gazed out upon the landscape of his choice. It
stared back at him with immobile effrontery, with the glazed
wide-parted eyes of the prostrate prize-fighter who, in his falling,
has been stunned--eyes in which hatred is the only sign of life. He
threw back his head and guffawed at the conceit, as though it had been
conceived by a brain and given utterance to by a voice other than his
own. Then he paused, drew himself erect, and his face went white; he
had heard of solitary men in Keewatin who had commenced by laughing to
themselves, and had ended by committing murder or suicide. Yet, as he
stood in thought, he acknowledged the truth of the image; his
existence on the Last Chance River was one long and wearisome struggle
between himself and the intangible prize-fighter, whoever he might
be,--Nature, the Elemental Spirit hostile to Creation, Keewatin, the
Devil, call him what you like. Sometimes he had had the better of the
combat, in which case days of peace had followed; but for the most
part he stood at bay or crouched upon his knees, watching for his
opportunity to rise; at his strongest he had only just sufficed to
hold his invisible antagonist in check, battling for a victory which
had been already awarded. He had long despaired of winning; the only
question which now troubled him was "How long shall I be able to
fight?"

A certain story current in the district, concerning a Hudson Bay
factor, flashed through his mind. At the beginning of the frost his
fort had been stricken with smallpox; one by one his six white
companions had died and the Indians had fle