CHAPTER XII. WHERE THE LAWS OF MIGHT ALONE PREVAIL
CHAPTER XIII. OUT ON THE NORTHLAND TRAIL
CHAPTER XIV. WHO SHALL FATHOM THE DEPTHS OF A WOMAN’S LOVE?
CHAPTER XV. THE TRAGEDY OF THE WILD
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The stormy day was followed by an equally stormy night. Inside the dugout it was possible, in a measure, to forget the terrors of the blizzard raging outside. The glowing stove threw out its comforting warmth, and even the rank yellow light of the small oil lamp, which was suspended from one of the rafters, gave a cheering suggestion of comfort to the rough interior. Besides, there were within food and shelter and human association, and the mind of man is easily soothed into a feeling of security by such surroundings.
The trappers had brought the rescued trader to the shelter of their humble abode; they had refreshed him with warmth and good food; they had given him the comfort of a share of their blankets, the use of their tobacco, all the hospitality they knew how to bestow.
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“Things is confusin’ to judge by the yarns folks tell,” added Ralph, with a shake of his shaggy head.
“Them fellers as comes up to your shack, Victor, mostly talks o’ drink, an’ shootin’, an’–an’ women,” Nick went on. “Guess the hills’ll do us. Maybe when we’ve done wi’ graft an’ feel that it ’ud be good to laze, likely we’ll go down an’ buy a homestead on the prairie. Maybe, I sez.”