dow. Smoke floated from the chimney, and Connie stepped boldly into the clearing. As he did so, the door opened and a little girl, a tiny tot of five, with bright golden hair, dashed laughing from the cabin, followed closely by a sturdy boy, perhaps a year her senior. Connie stared incredulously at the two children who had stopped short and were regarding him in wide-eyed wonder. He noticed that their eyes were blue and that neither showed the least sign of fear. "She's just like a picture," thought the boy, and smiled broadly at the two tots who stood before him.
"Hello, there!" he called, and then, remembering something long forgotten, he jerked the Stetson from his head and bowed. At the sound of his voice a woman appeared in the doorway. It came over Connie with a rush that she was quite the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and that her eyes were blue, like the children's. His keen glance noted the look that came into the woman's eyes as they rested for a moment on his uniform—a look of extreme surprise—almost of fear. But the look passed, and the woman smiled.
Ever since he had ventured alone and friendless into the big North in search of his father, Connie
