n't half
full of furs yet, but in another year we can fill it."

The great cold began to break up, the ice on the lake grew
thinner and thinner and then disappeared, much of the big game
left the valley, the winds from the north ceased to blow, and in
their stead came breezes from the south, tipped with warmth.
Dick knew that spring was near. It was no guess, he could feel
it in every bone of him, and he rejoiced. He had had enough of
winter, and it gave him the keenest pleasure when he saw tiny
blades of new grass peeping up in sheltered places here and
there.

Dick, although he was not conscious of it, had changed almost as
much as Albert in the last eight or nine months. He had had no
weak chest and throat to cure, but his vigorous young frame had
responded nobly to the stimulus of self-reliant life. The
physical experience, as well as the mental, of those eight or
nine months, had been equal to five times their number spent
under ordinary conditions, and he had grown greatly in every
respect. Few men were as strong, as agile, and as alert as he.

He and Albert, throughout that long winter, had been sufficient
unto each other. They had a great sense of ownership, the valley
and all its manifold treasurers belonged to them--a feeling that
was true, as no one else came to claim it--and they believed
that in their furs they were acquiring and ample provision for a
start in life.

When the first tender shades of green began to appear in the
valley and on the slopes, Dick decided upon a journey.

"Do you know, Al, how long we have been in this valley?" he
asked.

"Eight or ten months, I suppose," replied Albert.

"It must be something like that, and we've been entirely away
from our race. If we had anybody to think about us--although we
haven't--they'd be sure that we are dead. We're just as
ignorant of what is happening in the world, and I want to go on a
skirmishing trip over the mountains. You keep house while I'm
gone."

Albert offered mild objections, which he soon withdrew, as at
heart he thought his brother right, and the next day, early in
the morning, Dick started on his journey. He carried jerked
buffalo meat in a deerskin pouch that he had made for himself,
his customary repeating rifle, revolver, and a serviceable
hatchet.

"Look after things closely, Al," said Dick, "and don't bother
about setting the traps. Furs are not good in the spring."

"All right," responded Albert. "How lo