en he
stood before her expressing his gratitude for what she had done for
Ethel, and also his sympathy with her troubles, of which Ethel had told
him.

That was the beginning, and afterwards he was often in her home,
bringing gifts for the querulous invalid, and, better still, hope for
the future of her husband, about whom he interested a friend of his, who
was doing well out in New Zealand, and looking out for a partner with
some knowledge of medicine.

[Illustration: IT WAS UNDER A NOBLE TREE THAT MAX ASKED MARY TO MARRY
HIM.]

It was at a picnic, under a noble tree, that Max asked Mary to marry
him, and learned to his great joy how fully his love was returned.

Mary thought there was no one like him. So many had come to her for
help, but only he came to give with both hands, esteeming all he gave as
nothing if only he could win her smile and her approval.

So it happened that by the time Mrs. Croft had so far recovered as to be
able to join her husband, her departure was delayed one week, in order
that she might be present at her sister's wedding.

[Sidenote: Not so Foolish after all!]

"After all, Mary," she said, when at last she was saying goodbye, "your
happiness has come to you as a direct result of your kindness to Ethel
Forrest in stepping aside for her to have that appointment. You were
therefore not so foolish after all."

Mary laughed joyously. "I never thought I was," she said. "There's an
old-fashioned saying, you know, that 'it is more blessed to give than to
receive.'"

[Sidenote: How a plucky girl averted a terrible danger from marauding
Redskins.]

A Race for Life

BY

LUCIE E. JACKSON

The McArthurs were fortunate people. Everybody said that Mr. McArthur
must have been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, for
though he had come to Tulaska with barely a red cent in his pocket,
everything he attempted succeeded. His land increased, his cattle
increased, his home grew in proportion to his land, his wife was a
perfect manager, and his only child was noted for her beauty and daring.

A tall, graceful girl was Rosalind McArthur, with her mother's fine skin
and Irish blue eyes, her father's strength of mind and fearless bearing.
At nineteen years of age she could ride as straight as any man, could
paddle her canoe as swiftly as any Indian, and could shoot as well as
any settler in the land.

Added to all this, McArthur was a good neighbour, a kind friend, a
genia