Resolutely he slowed his pace. Suddenly with a sickening sinking of heart, it came upon him that henceforth throughout his life he must carry this haunting load of fear. He would never be without it. Be it so! He would carry it as a man should. He would face the fear and fight it. He would play the man for his own sake, but more for the sake of the woman to whom he was now going with his lie and who stood to him for all that was best in life. For his boy’s sake too. No shadow would lie suffer to fall on them if lie had to go through hell itself for it. This resolve steadied him, and with this resolve he arrived at his own back door. His son’s shout welcomed him. “Hello, Daddy! Where are they? Where is their camp? Will you take me to see them?” “Who? Oh, the Indians! Yes, they are safely at their camp. Long way off though. I’ll take you some day. I say, I am hungry! Lunch over?” “Yes, Daddy, we couldn’t wait any longer. Where is the camp? Do you know them? Where did you meet them? Mother,” he shouted, as she came to the door, “Daddy’s going to take me to the Indian camp.” “Why did she run away like that, Hugh? That little boy needs care. He will be having another attack. They should be under shelter.” He glanced at her face. How worn and ill and worried she looked! “Oh, don’t you worry about that little chap. You can’t kill those Indians. They’re all right. Very decent lot they are,” he went on nonchalantly, “better than most. Father’s quite a superior old boy. Chippewayans they are. Met them some time ago. Did some hunting with them. But here! I’m hungry as a hawk, starving, ravenous, dangerous. Anything left to eat? Oh, by the way, got a fine picture this morning on my way back. Wonderful thing—lights just right. Must get it down this afternoon before I forget.” “Come, Hugh, never mind your picture now. You must be famished. Come along. I’ve kept your lunch hot for you. It is quite spoiled, of course, but——” Her arms went about his neck. He could hardly repress a shudder as he received her kisses. “Never mind, Mother,” he said brusquely, “it will be the best ever. Let me splash my face a bit. Run off, Paul, now. After lunch we will have a walk.” “Oh, splendid! To the camp, to see the Indians?” shouted the boy. “I adore Indians. What——” “Off you go, boy, and let me get through with my lunch. Vamoose! Clear out! Do you hear?” he shouted at the boy with mock fierceness. Thank God, the first meeting was safely over. He had carried it off successfully. His spirits rose with a bound. He must get them thinking of something else. Preoccupation was the idea. His new picture! He would put some hard hours upon that. His wife would be interested and pleased. She always was when he really worked at his easel, and more especially when he carried the thing through to completion. He would put the finishing touches to this picture. The scene began to come back to him. He brought his sketch book to the lunch table with him.