always," she exclaimed in a low voice, but loud enough to awaken the wary maiden from her slumbers on the bed. But the mutual vocabulary of the twain did not admit of satisfactory conversation, and the Indian girl sank back into unconsciousness.
As she sat there thinking, a pair of kindly eyes seemed watching her every movement with a tender devotion that made her heart beat wildly. "I wish I'd never teased or laughed at Mame," she sighed, as the Reverend Thomas Rogers flitted past her inner vision. "What is Life but Love? And who and what is Love but God? And what is God but the wonderful Mystery that is both Life and Love?"
Le-Le was away in dreamland, on the enchanted shores of Whulge, -—the Indian name for the magnificent body of water known to the civilized world as Puget Sound.
"This is holy ground," cried Jean, so softly to herself that none but Cupid heard. "These lowly walls will be a sacred memory to me through all the rest of my life. But life will mean worse than nothing to me without my one hero. Must I go away to-morrow? Oh, my God! can I ever live again, away from this lodge in the wilderness? Guard and guide my love, O Spirit of Life, and shield him with Thine everlasting arms!"
Then, recollecting that she had not prayed, as usual, for the dear ones in camp, she lovingly invoked divine protection for each and all, and was soon in a sound, refreshing sleep.
"Yes, daddie dear, I 'm safe and sound," she cried, as she awoke to consciousness, to find that the sun was shining and her father's familiar voice was calling her name in vigorous tones at the door.
Jean hastily donned her clothing, which, simple as it was, excited the envy of Le-Le. "Mika klosh, cultus potlatch?" she said inquiringly, as she fondled a blueand-white neck-ribbon, which was not over clean.
