would reach
down to me from Heaven, as Iowaka reaches down to Jean. I love life. My
heart would break if she should go. But it would be replaced by
something almost like another soul. For it must be wonderful to be
over-watched by an angel."

He rose and went to the window, and with a queer thickening in his
throat Philip stared at his broad back. He thought he saw a moment's
quiver of his shoulders. Then Adare's voice changed.

"Winter brings close to our doors the one unpleasant feature of this
country," he said, turning to light a second cigar. "Thirty-five miles
to the north and west of us there is what the Indians call 'Muchemunito
Nek'--the Devil's Nest. It's a Free Trader's house. A man down in
Montreal by the name of Lang owns a string of them, and his agent over
at the Devil's Nest is a scoundrel of the first water. His name is
Thoreau. There are a score of half-breeds and whites in his crowd, and
not a one of them with an honest hair in his head. It's the one
criminal rendezvous I know of in all this North country. Bad Indians
who have lost credit at the Hudson's Bay Company's posts go to
Thoreau's. Whites and half-breeds who have broken the laws are
harboured there. A dozen trappers are murdered each winter for their
furs, and the assassins are among Thoreau's men. One of these days
there is going to be a big clean-up. Meanwhile, they are unpleasant
company. There is a deep swamp between our house and Thoreau's, so that
during the open water seasons it means we are a hundred miles away from
them by canoe. When winter comes we are only thirty-five miles, as the
sledge-dogs run. I don't like it. You can snow-shoe the distance in a
few hours."

"I know of such a place far to the west," replied Philip. "Both the
Hudson's Bay Company and Reveillon Freres have threatened to put it out
of business, but it still remains. Perhaps that is owned by Lang, too."

He had joined Adare at the window. The next moment both men were
staring at the same object in a mutual surprise. Into the white snow
space between the house and the forest there had walked swiftly the
slim, red-clad figure of Josephine, her face turned to the forest, her
hair falling in a long braid down her back.

The master of Adare chuckled exultantly.

"There goes our little Red Riding Hood!" he rumbled. "She beat us after
all, Philip. She is going after the dogs!"

Philip's heart was beating wildly. A better opportunity for seeing
Josephine alone c