Dusk was falling, and Grant, going to Dubois’ shack, kept the gloom of the trees. Dubois, some days since, had started for the woods, and although Grant knew her father’s absence would not embarrass Rose, he himself would sooner people did not remark his visiting at the shack. In fact, when he got Rose’s message his satisfaction was not keen. He had begun to see he was rather Rose’s servant than her lover, and he knew her hard and unscrupulous.
Keeping the shadow of the dark spruce branches, he pondered moodily. Rose’s message was very like an order, and he thought she knew it was so. She wanted something; perhaps she wanted him to run a fresh risk, and she implied that he must not hesitate. Grant rather thought he would rebel.
At the shack the stove was pushed into a corner, and a small
