"No, Marcia, that won't do. André lies in a lethargy; his condition may not change for days, for weeks, although I doubt this. His son and Ewart will do all that is necessary. Ewart will never leave the two here alone. You would be an extra care for them. It is now exceptionally cold for the season in this latitude; the fall rains may set in any time. Don't propose such a thing to Ewart, I beg of you. But Ewart remains--that is the kind of friend Ewart is." The request was too earnest for me not to accede to it with as good a grace as possible. On our return we found that it was as the Doctor had predicted: the old guide was unconscious. Mr. Ewart decided the matter of breaking camp. We were to leave the next morning with the Montagnais and André the Second for guides. André's son was to accompany us only to the fourth portage. The Doctor, with the other Montagnais, was sufficient for the rest of the way. The camp belongings were to follow later with Mr. Ewart, whenever that should be. I remember that day as one of dreary confusion--packing, sorting, shivering a little in the chill air. The sun shone pale; it failed to warm the earth or our bodies. All the forest stirred at times uneasily. André's son declared it foretold long cold rains followed by sharp frost. And amid all the confusion of the day we could hear the undertone of our thought: "Old André is dying". Mr. Ewart would not permit us to see him. "It is better to carry with you only the memory of him as he has looked to us during all these weeks--young in his heart, joyful in our companionship." I saw the relief in Mr. Ewart's face when we were ready. He spoke cheerily to me who failed to respond with anything resembling cheerfulness. "It's a bad business in camp during the fall rains, and they are setting in early this year. I shall know you are safely housed--and there is so much to look forward to. Home will be a pleasant place for us, won't it?" "I thought this, also, was home to you--" "Only so long as you are here; my home henceforth is where you are." And, hearing those words, despite the chill air, despite the lack of warm sunshine, despite the fact that old André lay dying in his tent just beyond the camp, despite the fact that Jamie and Mrs. Macleod were to leave me alone in Lamoral, that the Doctor was going away for an indefinite time, my happiness was at the flood.