The Prescott daily news., 1918-04-22
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down-river tomorrow"
 
 Four days later they stood on the deck of grimy little steamer breast ing the outgoing tide that surged through the First Narrows. Presently they swung around Brockton Point, and Vancouver spread its peninsular clutter before them. Tugs and launches puffed by, about their harbor traffic. A ferry clustered black with people hurried across the inlet. But even above the harbor noises, across the intervening distance they could hear the vibrant hum of the indus trial hive.
 She had no regrets when Bill con- fined their stay to the time necessary to turn his gold into a bank account, and allow her to buy a trunkful, more or less, of pretty clothes. Then they bore on eastward and halted at Ash croft. Bill had refused to commit himself positively to date for the eastern pilgrimage. He wanted to see the cabin again. For that matter she did. too-so that their sojourn there did not carry them over another win ter.
 From Ashcroft an auto stage whirled them swiftly into the heart of the Cariboo country-to Quesnelle, where Bill purchased four head of horses in an afternoon, packed, saddled, and hit the trail at daylight in the morning.
 The vanguard of the land hungry had already penetrated to Fort George. Up and down the Nachaco valley, and bordering upon the Fraser, were the cabins of the pre-emptors. The roads were dotted with the teams nf the Incoming. A sizabl town had sprung up around the old trading post.
 'They come like bees when the rush starts," Bill remarked.
 Leaving Fort George behind. they bore across country toward Pine river. Here and there certain landmarks, graven deep in Hazel's recollection. uprose to claim her attention. And one evening at sunset they rode up to the little cabin, all forlorn in its clear ing.
 Inside, a gray film of dust had ac- cumulated on everything, and the rooms were oppressive with the musty odors that gather in a closed, unten- anted house. But apart from that 1t stood as they had left 1t thirteen months before. No foot had crossed the threshold. The pile of wood and kindling lay beside the fireplace as Bill had placed it the morning they left.
 "'Be 1t ever so humble,'" Bill left the line of the old song unfinished, but his tone was full of jubilation. Be tween them they threw wide every door and window. The cool evening wind filled the place with sweet, pine scented air. Then Bill started blaze roaring in the black-mouthed fireplace ito make 1t look natural, he said and went out to hobble his horses for the night.
 In the morning they began to un- pack their household goods. Rugs and bearskins found each Its accustomed place upon the floor. His books went back on the shelves. With magical swiftness the cabin resumed its old home atmosphere. And that night Bill stretched himself on the grizzly hide before the fireplace. and kept his nose in book until Hazel who was in no humor to read, fretted herself into something approaching a temper.
 You're about as sociable as clam" she broke into his absorption at last.
 He looked up In surprise, then chucked the volume carelessly aside, and twisted himself around till his head rested in her lap.
 "Vot iss?" he asked cheerfully. Lonesome? Bored with yourselff Ain't 1 here? Surely you don't feel yourself neglected because I happen to have my nose stuck in a book?"
 "Of course not !" she denied vigor- ously. The childish absurdity of her attitude struck her with sudden force. "Still, I'd like you to talk to me once in a while.'
 Bill's eyes narrowed a trifie, but he still smiled. And suddenly he stepped around behind her chair, put both hands under her chin, and tilted her head backward.
 "Ah, you're plumb sick and tired to death of everything. aren't your" he said soberly. You've been up here too long. You sure need change. I'll have to take you out and give you the freedom of the cities, let you dis sipate and pink-tea, and rub elbows