dat."

"But suppose he should take Jean away?" the Colonel queried.

"Doan yo' worry 'bout dat, Cun'l. Missie Jean'll nebber leave us. But
if she should, dis ol' woman'll go wif her."

"You are right, Mammy," Jean replied. "I shall not leave you and
daddy. We must always remain together."

For some time father and daughter sat before the fire and talked after
Old Mammy had gone to bed. To Jean the future looked bright and rosy.
The Colonel, on the other hand, viewed it with considerable
apprehension. In a land as yet a great wilderness, he could not help
seeing mountains of difficulties rising sternly before them. He knew
how many hardships must beset their path for years to come. At present
they were living in a most precarious manner, exiles, with the
pioneering work all ahead. But with Jean it was different. To her the
trail of life looked very pleasant, gleaming golden beneath the mystic
halo of romance.

The Colonel spent the next day with Dane in the hills. He wished to be
alone with the courier who had won his daughter's heart. There were
many things he desired to say to him, and he hoped to learn a little,
at least, about his past life. He had something on his mind this day
of far greater importance to him than moose, deer, or caribou.

The morning passed most pleasantly, and the Colonel was more satisfied
than ever with his companion. Dane was well versed in forest lore, and
the ways of the feathered and furry creatures of the trails were to him