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Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt. Off she darted followed by Howard. The horses swept over the smooth turf in long easy strides, gradually increasing in speed as pinto and chestnut realized that this was a trial of fleetness. It was glorious, but presently Nell, remembering Moses’ parting injunctions in regard to his beloved pinto, pulled up. “Next time, Ladybird, we will win never fear,” she said consolingly, patting the horse’s sleek neck. “What’s next?”.

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“I comed,” he said, calmly, “I see Billy boat.” “I might as well tell you all about it, Mrs. Wopp,” confessed Howard. “When I got to town and found the train was almost due, I felt frightfully shy. So I got Ken Judson to put on his boiled shirt and Sunday suit and go to the station. He looked the part, I assure you, much better than I would. He brought Miss Gordon to ‘The Golden West’ where I had recovered sufficiently to speak to her.” “O Billy!” Jean gasped, fear for the little, delicate girl in that eery place lending sympathy to her voice. “Sunday School, too? How long you’ll be away!”.