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 over her, tucking the thick fur about her feet and knees, and in
that moment he breathed from the heavy coils of her shining hair the
flower-like sweetness which had already stirred him to the depths of his
soul.

Colonel Becker was smiling down upon them when he straightened up, and
at the humorous twinkle in his eyes, as he gazed from one to the other,
Steele felt that the guilt of his own thoughts was blazing in his face.
He was glad that the Indians came up with the sledges just at this
moment, and as he went back to help them with the dogs and packs he
swore softly at himself for the heat that was in his blood and the
strange 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 down to hers and kiss it, and in the ineffable contentment and
happiness shining in the two faces in the firelight Philip Steele knew
that he was looking upon that which had broken for ever the haunting
image of another woman in his heart. In its place would remain this
picture of love--love as he had dreamed of it, as he had hoped for it,
and which he had found at last--but not for himself--in the heart of a
wilderness.

He saw now something childishly sweet and pure in the face that smiled
welcome to him as he came noisily through the snow-crust; and something,
too, in the colonel's face, which reached out and gripped at his very