Philip Steele of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police

ut before the big box-stove in the company's deserted and supply-stripped store. The first was that a certain Colonel Becker and his wife had left Fort Churchill, on Hudson's Bay, to make a visit a

st supply ship from London, and the colonel was a high official in the company's service. Also, he was an old gentleman. Ost

zled face wa

ded of Steele. "They've got duck feathers, three women, and a civilized

ders as Breed mentioned t

lied. "Since a certain Bucky Nome passed tha

the cooking. Blessed Saints, I caught him mixing biscuit dough in the wash basin the other day, and I've been eating those biscuits ever since our people went out to their traplines! There's y

bed f

-hard a

d gr

ugar'n'prunes-and caribou until I feel like turning inside out every time I smell it. I'd give a month's commission for a poun

rill passed through him. Before he had read the first line he was conscious again of that haunting sweetness in the air he breathed-the perfume of hyacinth. There was not only this perfume, but the same paper, the sam

r that I know this writing, and yet of course such a thing is impossible. Still, it's mighty queer. W

Hope you find something interesting to tell me at sup

as impossible for him to explain. According to the letter. Colonel and Mrs. Becker had arrived at Churchill aboard the London ship a little over a month previously. He remembered that the date on the letter from the girl was six weeks old. At the time it was written, Colonel Becker and his wife were either in London or Liverpool, or crossing the Atlantic. No matter how similar the two letters appeared to him, he realized that, under the circumstances, the same person could not have written them both. For many minu

lose the stove door, and stopped suddenly, his hand reaching out, head and shoulders hunched over. Acros

s trembled, his breath came quickly. The hair had fallen upon his knee

he carried in his leather wallet. His face was flushed when he joined the factor. Not since the night at the Hawkins' ball, when he had felt the touch of a beautiful woman's hands, the warmth of her breath, the soft sweep of her hair against his lips as

o-pieces, unbusiness-like post between the Athabasca and the Bay. We've had two bad seasons running, and everything has gone wrong. C

you like to have me go out to meet them?" he asked. "Sort of a welcoming committee of one, you know. Before the

brightened

e us, Steele. W

plea

h in his face as he bent over his plate. "Y

from Churchill; at least he sa

his w

so bad if it was only the colonel. But an old woman-ugh! What h

ed at things through a magnifying lorg

rted. "Have Jack fix me up for the hike in th

ipe. It was almost with a feeling of shame that he took the golden hair from hi

to do with you-even if she has golden hair and uses cream-tinted paper soaked in hyacinth? Confound it-there!" and he re

hickened beyond the rim of firelight, and, as the gloom grew still deeper, blotting out his vision in inky blackness, there crept over him slowly a feeling of loneliness. It was a new sensation to Steele, and he shivered as he sat up and faced the fire. It was this same quiet, this same unending mystery of voiceless desolation that had won him to the North. Until to-night he had loved it. But now there was something oppressive about it, something that made him strain his eyes to see beyond the rock and the fire, and set his ears in tense listening for sounds which did

, in half-slumber, and after that the face seemed nearer and more real to him, until it was close at his side, and was speaking to him. He heard again the soft, rippling laugh, girlishly sweet, that had fas

nd a thrill as keen as an electric shock set his nerves tingling when he heard once more the laughing voice of his dream, hushed and low. In ama

ing softly in the snow, and a fig

s a w

n heavy fur, the whiteness of a hand touching lightly the flap of his tent, and then for an instant he saw a face. In that instant he sat as rigid as if he had stopped the beat of his own life. A pair of da

through the low opening of the tent. On the extreme right of the fire stood a man and woman,

. "I was afraid we'd make a blunder and awaken you. We were about to camp on

and. "You see, I'm out from Lac Bain to meet Colonel and Mrs. Becker, and-" He hesitated purposely

me for looking in at you and waking you up? But your feet looked so terribly funny, and I assure you that

ir was the same shining red gold that had come to him in the letter, and that her lips and eyes and the glorious color in her face were remarkably like those of which he had dreamed, and of which waking visions had come with the hyacin

t himsel

of a face, Mrs. Becker, It seems strange that this should happen-away up here, in this way.

ch was nipped red by the cold, and with a pointed beard as white as the snow under his feet. That part of his countenance which expo

wouldn't have ventured into your camp if it hadn't been for Isobel. She was positively insistent,

ughed straight into Philip's face, and so roguishly sweet was the curve of her red lips and th

was tired to-night-though I am not, now," he added quickly. "I could sit up until mor

obel made 'em sit down and be quiet, dogs and all, sir, while we

ur tent beside mine, Colonel, close against th

er looking at him in a timid, questioning sort of way, the laughter gone from her eyes. For a moment she s

a fire, I would suggest that you throw off your heavy coat. You wi

d thrown off her coat and turban and stood before him, a slim and girlish figure, bewitchingly pretty as she smiled her gratitude and nestled down into the place he had prepared for her. For a moment he bent ov

nge madness that was firing his brain. And inwardly he cursed himself still more when he returned to the fire. From out the deep gloom he saw the colonel sitting with his back against the spruce and Mrs. Becker nestling against him, her head resting upon his shoulder, talking and laughing up into his face. Even as he hesitated for an instant, scarce daring to break upon the scene, he saw her pull the gray-bearded face

was new and strange to him, and which was almost the happiness of these two. It swept from him the sense of loneliness which had oppressed him a short time before, and when at last, after they had talked for a long time beside the fire, the colonel's wife lifted

its simple glory, as he had seen it last on the night when Chesbro had broken in on them at the ball. It was very easy for him to imagine that it had been Her face, with soul and heart and love added to its beauty. More than ever he knew what had been mis