Tom had been watching her stitching. He offered a comment now, perhaps, to change the subject. It is embarrassing for a modest man to talk about himself. "You're workin' that 'W' upside down," he said. "Am I? Who said, it was a 'W'?" "I guessed it might be." "You're a bad guesser. It's an 'M.' 'M' stands for McRae, doesn't it?" "Yes, and 'W' for Winthrop," he said with a little flare of boldness. A touch of soft color flagged her cheeks. "And 'I' for impudence," she retorted with a smile that robbed the words of offense. He was careful not to risk outstaying his welcome. After an hour he rose to go. His good-bye to Matapi-Koma and Onistah was made in the large living-room. Jessie followed him to the outside door. He gave her a word of comfort as he buttoned his coat, "Don't you worry about Win. I'll keep an eye on him." "Thank you. And he'll keep one on you, I suppose." He laughed. That reversal of the case was a new idea to him. The prettiest girl in the North was not holding her breath till he returned safely. "I reckon," he said. "We'll team together fine." "Don't be foolhardy, either of you," she cautioned. "No," he promised, and held out his hand. "Good-bye, if I don't see you in the mornin'." He did not know she was screwing up her courage and had been for half an hour to do something she had never done before. She plunged at it, a tide of warm blood beating into her face beneath the tan. "'M' is for Morse too, and 'T' for Tom," she said. With the same motion she thrust the gun-case into his hand and him out of the door. He stood outside, facing a closed door, the bit of fancy-work in his mittens. An exultant electric tingle raced through his veins. She had given him a token of friendship he would cherish all his life. CHAPTER XXXI THE LONG TRAIL For four days Whaley lay between life and death. There were hours when the vital current in him ebbed so low that McRae thought it was the beginning of the end. But after the fifth day he began definitely to mend. His appetite increased. The fever in him abated. The delirium passed away. Just a week from the time he had been wounded, McRae put him on the cariole and took him to town over the hard crust of the snow. Beresford returned from Fort Edmonton a few hours later, carrying with him an appointment for Morse as guide and deputy constable. "Maintiens le droit," said the officer, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You're one of us now. A great chance for a short life you've got. Time for the insurance companies to cancel any policies they may have on you." Morse smiled. He was only a deputy, appointed temporarily, but it pleased him to be chosen even in this capacity as a member of the most efficient police force in the world. "Maintiens le droit" was the motto of the Mounted. Tom did not intend that the morale of that body should suffer through him if he could help it.