an' plays with the kids, an' says he knows the doctor and that there
will be nothing to pay for all that he is done. Ah--she ees wan
be-e-eautiful-l-l angel! An' this--this is w'at she tied around my
hand."

With new life Pierrot went to a covered box nailed against one of the
log walls and a moment later placed in Philip's hands a long, white,
silken neck-scarf. Once more there rose to his nostrils the sweet, faint
scent of hyacinth, and with a sudden low cry Philip crushed the dainty
fabric in a mass to his face. In that moment it seemed as though the
sweetness of the woman herself was with him, stirring him at last to
confess the truth--the thing which he had fought against so fiercely in
those few hours at Lac Bain; and the knowledge that he had surrendered
to himself, that in going from Lac Bain he was leaving all that the
world held for him in the way of woman and love, drew his breath from
him in another broken, stifled cry.

When he lowered the scarf his face was white. Pierrot was staring at
him.

"It makes me think--of home," he explained lamely. "Sometimes I get
lonely, too. There's a girl--down there--who wears a scarf like this,
and what she wears smells like a flower, just as this does--"

"Oui, I understand," said Pierrot softly. "It is the way I feel when my
Iowla is gone."

He replaced the scarf in the box, and when he returned to the stove
Philip explained why he had come to his cabin. With Pierrot's promise to
accompany him with dogs and sledge on his patrol the next day he