sult offered to the girl
by her husband's brother. He broke into her room one night impudently
assuming to masquerade as her husband. Her husband saved her from him,
but in the shock to her nerves she experienced a revulsion against the
lot of them--and small wonder!

Her husband of his own free will took her back to her father. That's one
of the finest things in the story, for there's no question but that he
loved her desperately. The loss of her broke his spirit, which had
endured so much. He never went back home. He felt, poor fellow, as if he
were cast out alike by reds and whites, and his instinct was to find a
place where he could bury himself far from all humankind.

He was next heard of at Miwasa landing a thousand miles away, across
the mountains. Here he got employment with a york boat crew and
travelled with them down-stream some hundreds of miles north to Great
Buffalo Lake. Here he obtained a canoe from the Indians, and, with a
small store of grub, set off on his own. He made his way up the Swan
River, an unexplored stream emptying into Great Buffalo Lake, as far as
the Great Falls, and there he built himself a shack.

He could hardly have found a spot better suited to his purpose. No white
man so far as known had ever visited those falls, and even the Indians
avoid the neighbourhood for superstitious reasons. But even here he
could not quite cut himself off from his kind. An epidemic of measles
broke out among the Kakisa Indians up the river from him, and out of
pure humanity he went among them and cured them. These Indians were
grateful, strange to say; they almost deified the white man who had
appeared so strangely in their country.

Meanwhile the wrong she had done him began to prey on his wife's mind.
She could not rest under the thought that she had wrecked his
usefulness. Ernest Imbrie had, with the idea of keeping his mind from
rusting out in solitude, ordered certain papers and books sent to him at
Fort Enterprise. His wife learned of this address through his medical
college, and in the spring of the year following her marriage, that is
to say the spring of the year just past, she set off in search of him
without saying anything to anybody of her intention.

She and her father were still at Fort Edward--have I said that the girl
had no mother?--and Hooliam Imbrie had been there, too, during the
winter, not daring to approach the girl precisely, but just hanging
around the neighbourhood. One ca