File:The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 (1893) (14754650176).jpg

Identifier: canadianmagazine36torouoft (find matches)
Title: The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911
Year: 1893 (1890s)
Authors:
Subjects: Canadian periodicals
Publisher: Toronto, Ontario publishing co
Contributing Library: Toronto Public Library: Research and Reference Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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companionship. Come downthe valley with me. I am going outto the cache on the Lost Wolf branch,and you can find acres of flowersthere. The warmth of Stewarts requestcarried its own significance, but FloraKinnear shook her head saucily as sheran on. The Hills are calling me, shelaughed, and the valley is too smallto hold my gladness. I must get up,up where there is the whole heavenspace for breathing. Kinnear looked after her in par-ental tenderness. Shes a bonnielassie, he mui-mured, an guid asgowd. Virgin gold, agreed GraemeStewart. She will make some manhappier than a king, although sheseems too gentle for people like ourrough, northern selves. The old Scot smiled at the unselfishdeprecation and tapped Stewartsarm. The men o the North are strongan true, he declared. Shell findnane better in a the world: an Imaun believe she fancies Felix. Quite ignorant of the turn of Stew-arts desires, Kiimear spoke guile-lessly, and a shade of pain crossed thechief district factors face. A rifles
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•SHE CAN GUESS. FLOKAS HAUGHTV VOICE ANSWERED report on Lost AVolf ford gave himdiversion. While he listened, thesound was repeated. He put up hisfield-glasses. Somethings moving off to theBeaver Hills, he annonnced, andtheres a horse coming here. It ap-pears to be hard ridden. Aiblins tis Barclay, the commis-sioner, suggested Kinnear. Barclay generally rides thatway. laughed Stewart. But to-dayhe should be more careful. Isnt hecarrying Government goldV The factor snorted in derision. Grant Barclay doesna know how 7—169 tae take care, was his trite observa-tion. He doesna fear men or deil. Its Barclays pony! Stewart ex-claimed, still sighting through thelenses. Two white forefeet and astar on the face! Good Lord, itsriderless! Grant has been thrown. Straight as a transits line, thehorse galloped for the Fort, swervedin mad terror on seeing the men andsuddenly collapsed in the sandv dust. Shot! cried the chief districtfactor, clean throaigh the shoulder!\;\liat deviltrys this? Kinn

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