He tucked the mail-bag and the parcel under one arm and went out, placing the former in a box that was lashed to the toboggan. Then he clicked at his dogs, who began to trot off easily towards the rise of ground at the side of the big lake. It was a sheet of streaky white, smooth or hummocky according to varying effects of wind and falling levels. Far out on its surface he saw two black dots that were a pair of ravens, walking in dignified fashion and pecking at some indistinguishable treasure trove. At the summit of the rise he clicked again and the dogs went on faster, the man running behind with the tireless, flat-footed gait of the trained traveler of the wilderness. In the meanwhile old McGurn was busy in the store and Sophy put on her woollen _tuque_ and her mitts. "I'm going over to the depot and see about that box of Dutch socks," she announced. "'T ain't due yet," observed her father. "I'm going to see, anyway," she answered. In the station she found Joe Follansbee in his little office. The telegraphic sounder was clicking away, with queer sudden interruptions, in the manner that is so mysterious to the uninitiated. "Are you busy, Joe?" she asked him, graciously. "Sure thing!" answered the young fellow, grinning pleasantly. "There's the usual stuff. The 4.19 is two hours late, and I've had one whole private message. Gettin' to be a busy place, Carcajou is." "Who's getting messages? Old man Symonds at the mill?" "Ye'll have to guess again. It's a wire all the way from New York." "What was it about, Joe?" she asked, in her very sweetest manner. Indeed, the inflection of her voice held something in it that was nearly caressing. Kid Follansbee had long admired her, but of late he had been quite hopeless. He had observed the favor in which Ennis had seemed to stand before the girl, and had perhaps been rather jealous. It was pleasant to be spoken to so agreeably now. "We ain't supposed to tell," he informed her, apologetically. "It's against the rules. Private messages ain't supposed to be told to anyone." "But you'll tell me, Joe, won't you?" she asked again, smiling at him. It was a chance to get even with the man he deemed his rival and he couldn't very well throw it away. "Well, I will if ye'll promise not to repeat it," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "It's some woman by the name of Madge who's wired to Ennis she's coming." "But when's she due, Joe?" "It just says 'Leaving New York this evening. Please have some one to meet me. Madge Nelson.'" "For--for the land's sakes!" She turned, having suddenly become quite oblivious of Joe, who was staring at her, and walked back slowly over the hard-packed snow that crackled under her feet in the intense cold. "I--I don't care," she told herself, doggedly. "I--I guess she'll just tear his eyes out when she finds out she's been fooled. She'll be tellin' everybody and--and they'll believe her, of course, and--and like enough they'll laugh at him, now, instead of me."