"Oh, 'twasn't anything," and David, with a brave show, arose and began unlashing the toboggan. "You kept your grit just as much, Andy. If you had run, or hadn't got the door open or the candle lit, we'd sure been killed."

"'Twere fine th' gun went off, but 'tis strange she didn't go off when you tried her before," suggested Andy.

"If I'd tried un once more out where we first saw th' wolves, she'd have gone off, but I gives up too soon," said David. "Th' tryin' I did loosed th' ice around th' firin' pin. I just _had_ t' try un when th'

wolves started in after us; and she were all right."

And so it is, much too often in life. We give up too soon. We would turn many a failure into success if we would but keep on trying, and doing our best, and not permit ourselves to become discouraged.

When the toboggan was unloaded they took it out, dragged in the dead wolves where they would not freeze, and after they had kindled a fire and eaten their supper, removed the pelts from the three, and fine big pelts they were.

XI

A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE

Even their first marten had not given the boys the degree of satisfaction they derived from the capture of the wolf pelts. They had experienced an adventure, too, that had impressed upon them the need of constant watchfulness, and it was agreed that in future each should carry his rifle, and be a.s.sured that it was always in serviceable condition.

"I'm thinkin', now," observed Andy, as he and David sc.r.a.ped the pelts, "that these must be th' same wolves we heard the day we comes t' Seal Lake. They've been 'bidin' close by ever since, like as not."

"It's like as not they're th' same," agreed David, "but they were never 'bidin' so close all this while without showin' themselves. They makes their hunt where there's deer, and I'm thinkin' there's deer not far away."

"Some deer's meat would go fine," suggested Andy.

"'Twould, now," said David. "'Tis strange we've seen no deer footin'

anywhere th' whole winter."

"Maybe th' deer are comin' handy, and that's what brings th' wolves back," said Andy.

"They're like t' be on th' open meshes," said David. "We may see signs of un tomorrow."

"And if we does, we'll have a deer hunt!" exclaimed Andy, expectantly.

"We will that!" declared David, "even if we are a day late gettin'

back t' th' Narrows tilt."

The adventure of the evening occupied their conversation until the wolf pelts were sc.r.a.ped and hung to dry. Then David filled the stove with wood, and blowing out the candle they slipped into their sleeping bags.

"I'm wonderin', now," mused Andy, after they had lain a little while in silence, "what Pop will say when we tells him about th' wolves."

"He'll say we did fine gettin' three good skins," said David proudly.

"They're all prime, and worth four dollars each, _what_ever."

"'Tis a fine day's hunt!" enthused Andy, adding: "But I wouldn't want t' be chased by un again!"

"Aye, 'twere a close call," admitted David. "After this we'll both carry our rifles, and we'll be sure they're workin' all right."

"And I'm thinkin'," said Andy, "th' Lard was on th' lookout for us, and He made your rifle go off, Davy, just th' right time."

"Aye," said David, "just th' right time."

"When I said my prayer," continued Andy reverently, "I thanked th'

Lard for standin' by us."

"So did I," admitted David, "and I thanked He for th' three wolf skins and th' two martens. They're a big help toward payin' for Jamie's cure, and we gets un all in _one_ day."

"I wonders," and Andy's voice was filled with awe, "if Mother knows about un, and if she's glad?"

"And I wonders, too!" said David, in subdued and reverential voice.

"If she knows about un, she's wonderful glad, Andy--and--I'm always thinkin, she does see us, Andy, and everything we does. She were tellin' me once, Andy, before she dies, that when th' Lard takes she away to be an angel, she'll always keep close to us in spirit. She were sayin' she always wants us to know she's close by watchin' us and helpin' us, even if we can't see her."

"I'm thinkin' then," breathed Andy, looking about him in the darkness as though half expecting to see his mother's form, "she might be right close to us now, and--maybe--she's touchin' us. Do you--do you think she _is_, Davy?"

"They's--no knowin'," said David in a half whisper, no less awed by the thought than was Andy. "I'm thinkin' if th' Lard lets th' angels do what they wants t' do, Mother's right here now. Th' Lard would never be denyin' His angels, for He wants th' angels t' be happy, and Mother never'd be happy if she couldn't be with us."

The lads lay silent for a little, pondering upon the mystery of life beyond the grave. Before their fancy's vision there arose a picture of the gentle mother who had been taken from them so long ago, and who had loved them so well.

"Davy," whispered Andy presently, "you awake?"

"Yes," answered David, "I'm wonderful wakeful."

"I wish," said Andy wistfully, "Mother'd come and put her hand on my forehead and kiss me good night, like she used to, so I'd feel her.

I'm--wantin' her wonderful bad--I'm lonesome for she--Davy."

"Maybe she's doin' it, Andy," said David. "Maybe she's kissin' us both, and touchin' us and lovin' us like she used to do. Maybe she is, Andy, and we don't know it, because th' touch of angels is so light we never could feel un."

Perhaps she was. Who knows? Who can tell when loved ones beyond the grave come to caress us and minister to us, and to rejoice and sorrow with us? Our ears are not attuned to hear their dear voices, our eyes have not the power to see their glorious presence.

Never since coming into the wilderness had the isolation of the great solitudes impressed David and Andy so deeply as now. Their imagination was awake. In fancy they could see, reaching away into unmeasured miles on every side of the little tilt which sheltered them, the silent, white, unpeopled wilderness. There was no one to turn to for companionship. Even Indian Jake, sleeping soundly, doubtless, in some far distant camp, seemed no part of their world. The crackling fire in the stove accentuated the silence that surrounded them. An ill-fitting stove cover permitted flickering rays of light to escape from the stove, and dance in ghostly manner upon the ceiling. Weird shadows rose and fell in dark corners. There was small wonder that the two lads should be lonely, and heart hungry. It was quite natural that at such a time they should long for a mother's gentle caress and loving sympathy.

All of us are Davids and Andys sometimes. G.o.d pity the man that forgets the tender love and ministry and willing sacrifice of his mother. G.o.d pity the man who grows too old to wish sometimes for his mother's love and sympathy and steadfast faith in him when others lose their faith. What courage it would give him to fight the battles of life! So long as his mother's memory lives green in a man's heart, and he feels her dear spirit near him, he cannot stray far from the paths of rect.i.tude.

But the day's work had been hard, and David and Andy were weary.

Presently their eyes closed, and they were lost in the sound and dreamless sleep of robust youth.

There is no dawdling in bed of mornings for the trapper. His day's work must be done, and the hours of light in this far northern land are all too short. And so, as was their custom, David and Andy, in spite of their previous day's excitement and hard work, were up and had a roaring fire in the stove a full hour before daybreak.

"I'm wonderful glad," remarked David, as he came in with a kettle of water and placed it on the stove, "that we don't have to haul the flat sled with us around th' mesh today. Maybe we'll have a chance t'

look for deer."

"We'll hurry over th' trail, and get through settin' up th' traps early," said Andy. "'Tis wonderful cozy here in th' tilt, and if we don't find deer signs 'twill be fine t' get back early."

"I'll tell you, now, what we'll do," suggested David. "I'll take th'

n'uth'ard side, and you th' s'uth'ard side, and we'll each go over half th' trail instead of both travelin' together over all of un, and we'll get through in half th' time. We'll meet in th' clump of spruce on th' easterly side of th' mesh, where we always stops t' boil th'

kettle."

"That's a fine plan!" exclaimed Andy. "When we gets there t' boil th'