he
countin' so on th' tradin' business."

"Aye," repeated Richard, "wonderful hard on he. Wonderful hard an'
disappointin', After all his plannin' an' hopin' an' thinkin' about
un."

"An' Emily's schoolin' charge! How now be we goin' t' pay un?" asked
Mrs. Gray.

"Don't worry about that, now," said Douglas. "I were wantin' she t'
go, an' I were th' first t' say for she t' go, an' I'll see, now,
about un this year, whatever. Don't worry about th' schoolin', now."

"But we can't be havin' you pay un," remonstrated Richard.

"Well, now, don't worry about un," insisted Douglas. "We'll see. We'll
see."

They lapsed into silence for a little, when Bessie remarked:

"'Tisn't so bad, now. 'Tis bad t' lose th' money, an' 'twill be hard
an' disappointin' t' Bob, but he's a wonderful able lad--they's no
other lad in th' Bay so able as Bob. He's a fine lot o' traps on his
new trails, an' he'll not be doin' so bad, now."

"Yes," agreed Douglas, "he be, now, a wonderful able lad."

"And," Richard spoke up, beginning to see the brighter side of the
situation, "Bob owns un, an' he's havin' no debt, an' he's payin' up
all our debts. They's no other folk o' th' Bay as well off as we be."

"I weren't thinkin' of un that way. I were just thinkin' of how hard
'twill be for Bob-givin' up th' tradin'," Mrs. Gray explained. "But we
has a lot t' be thankful for, an', as Bessie says, Bob's young an'
wonderful able."

But nevertheless it was a hard blow--a disheartening blow--to all of
them. Bob had planned so much for the future, he was still planning
and dreaming of his career as a trader, and building air castles--away
up there in the desolate white wilderness.

This meant, instead of the realisation of those dreams, a tedious,
interminable tramping, year after year, of the fur trails, an always
uncertain, a never-ending, struggle for the bare necessities of life.
A single bad year would throw them again into debt; two bad years in
succession would plunge them so hopelessly into debt that the most
earnest effort for the remainder of his life would not relieve Bob of
its burden.

XXI

THE RIFLED CACHE

The cold of February, intense, searching, deadly, tightened its grip
upon the wilderness, sapping the life of the three struggling human
derelicts--for derelicts Shad Trowbridge felt himself and his two
companions to be--as they fought their way, now hopefully, now
despondently, but ever with slower pace, as strength ebbe