him back,
held him so that he might kiss the peaceful face. This the child did
with a soft cooing that served to convey both love and pity. Then he ran
to the stalwart figure that still lay on the floor, and, patting its
swarthy cheek, said something in the Cree tongue that Phil did not
understand.

After that Phil carefully closed the door to prevent the intrusion of
wild beasts, and the two, whose fortunes had become so strangely
interwoven, set forth together down the white surface of the
forest-bordered stream, on whose bank Nel-te had been born and passed
his few years of life. He was happily but unconsciously venturing on his
first "little journey into the world," while his companion was filled
with a sense of manliness and responsibility from the experiences
through which he had just passed that the mere adding of years could
never have brought.

Phil wondered at the ease with which the little fellow managed his
snow-shoes, until he reflected that the child had probably been taught
to use them from the day of taking his first step. So the two fur-clad
figures, ridiculously contrasted in size, trudged along side by side
down the winding stream, the one thoughtfully silent and the other
chattering of "doggies," until he began to lag behind and give signs
that the pace was telling on his slender strength.

"Poor little chap," said Phil. "But I had been expecting it, and now we
will try another scheme." So, slinging the tiny snow-shoes across the
child's back, he picked him up and set him astride his own broad
shoulders; when Nel-te clutched his head, and shouted with glee at this
delightful mode of travel.

After they had gone a mile or so in this fashion they rounded a sharp
bend, and came so suddenly upon poor Serge, who was making his way up
the stream in search of some trace of his friend, that for a moment he
stood motionless and speechless with amazement. He could make nothing of
the approaching apparition until Phil shouted, cheerily:

"Hurrah, old man! Here we are, safe and sound, and awfully glad to see
you."

"Oh, Phil!" cried Serge, while tears actually stood in his honest blue
eyes, "I can hardly believe it! It seems almost too good to be true. Are
you sure you are not wounded nor frozen nor hurt in any way? Haven't you
suffered terribly? If you haven't, we have. I don't believe Mr. Coombs
slept a wink last night, and I know I didn't. But I am happy enough at
this minute to make up for it all, a