any wild beasts were near they kept well out of sight. Once Lukins brought
down a small wild-cat, but that was all.

It must be confessed that James Morris was exceedingly anxious to see how
the trading-post had fared during his absence, and as soon as the rolling
Kinotah was reached, he set off on a gallop along the bank of the stream,
followed by Dave and Henry, leaving Barringford to advance more leisurely
with the pack-train.

The river, with its clear, sparkling waters, was as beautiful as ever, but
while they were still two miles from where the trading-post had been
located, they noticed a change in the character of the surroundings. The
heavy spring freshets had done their work, and the river banks were torn
into numerous gullies and creeks, while the trunks and limbs of great trees
lay in all directions. Further still, they came to a long, burnt district,
which made the heart of the trader turn sick with dread.

"It is as I feared," he said sadly. "There has been a terrible burn-over
here, and the district is no longer what it was."

In less than half an hour's riding over the blackened ground, they came to
where the long, comfortable trading-post had been located. Only a pile of
ashes, with here and there a burnt log sticking up, marked the spot, and
James Morris could scarcely keep back the tears as he surveyed the ruin
wrought. Tears came to Dave's eyes, and Henry shook his head.

"We'll have to go further now, won't we, father?" said Dave, after a long
spell of silence. "You won't want to build here again."

"No, Dave, I'll not build here. It was a beautiful place, but it seemed