"Yes," came the monosyllabic reply. "Lord" Bill's lips were pursed
tightly. Every now and then he dashed the snow and breath icicles from
his eyelashes. The horses were almost hidden from his view.

They were descending a steep gradient and they now knew that they were
upon Trout Creek. At the creek Bill pulled up. It was the first stop
since leaving Calford. Jacky and he jumped down. Each knew what the
other was about to do without speaking. Jacky, reins in hand, went round
the horses; "Lord" Bill was searching for the trail which turned off
from the main road up the creek to Norton's. Presently he came back.

"Animals all right?"

"Fit as fiddles," the girl replied.

"Right--jump up!"

There was no assisting this girl to her seat. No "by your leave" or
European politeness. Simply the word of one man who knows his business
to another. Both were on their "native heath."

Bill checked the horses' impetuosity and walked them slowly until he
came to the turning. Once on the right road, however, he let them have
their heads.

"It's all right, Jacky," as the horses bounded forward.

A few minutes later the sleigh drew up at Norton's, but so dark was it
and so dense the snow fog, that only those two keen watchers on the