e deep-
cut trail that led to The Forks, and bring up down at the crackling, cheerful fire-place of the Howlin Wilderness.
The Prince and I sometimes went to town too. It was dull work sitting there, us two, in the warm little log-cabin, covered all up in snow, with nothing to read, nothing in common to talk of, and him, full of care and anxiety about the next day s rations, and the next ; and it was a blessed relief to sometimes go out, mix in a crowd and see the broad-breasted, ruddy-faced men, and hear their strong and hearty voices, even though the utterances of some were often thick with oaths and frequent violations of the laws of grammar.
One morning we had only bread for breakfast. The Prince was gloomy and silent as we sat down. He did not remain long at the table. He stood by the fire and watched my relish of the little breakfast with evident satisfaction.
" Little one," said he, at last, "it is getting mighty rocky. I tell you the grass is shorter than it ever was with us before, and what to do next I do not know."
There was something affecting in the voice and manner. My breakfast was nearly choking me, and I tried to hide my face from his. I got up from the table, went to the door and looked across into the white sheet of snow hung upon the mountain opposite, got the air, came back, kicked the fire vigorously r and turned and stood by his side with my back to the fi
