Its hard crust bore the marks of the sledges of Jean Croisset and the
men from the Lac la Ronge country. Since the big snow, which had fallen
four feet deep ten days before, a forest man had now and then used this
trail on his way down to the edge of civilization; but none from Prince
Albert had traveled it in the other direction. Howland had been told
this at the hotel, and he shrugged his shoulders in candid bewilderment
as he stared down into the girl's face. She seemed to understand his
thoughts, and again her mouth rounded itself into that bewitching red O,
which gave to her face an expression of tender entreaty, of pathetic
grief that the soft lips were powerless to voice, the words which she
wished to speak. Then, suddenly, she darted a few steps from Howland and
with the toe of her shoe formed a single word in the surface of the
snow. She rested her hand lightly on Howland's shoulder as he bent over
to make it out in the elusive starlight.
"Camp!" he cried, straightening himself. "Do you mean to say you're
camping out here?"
She nodded again and again, delighted that he understood her. There was
something so childishly sweet in her face, in the gladness of her eyes,
that Howland stretched out both his hands to her, laughing aloud.
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