THE SARCEE CAMP The sun had reached the peaks of the Rockies far in the west, touching their white with red, and all the lesser peaks and all the rounded hills between with great splashes of gold and blue and purple.

It is the sunset and the sunrise that make the foothill country a world of mystery and of beauty, a world to dream about and long for in later days.
Through this mystic world of gold and blue and purple drove Cameron and his wife, on their way to the little town of Calgary, three days after the ruthless burning of their home.

As the sun dipped behind the western peaks they reached the crossing of the Elbow and entered the wide Bow Valley, upon whose level plain was situated the busy, ambitious and would-be wicked little pioneer town.

The town and plain lay bathed in a soft haze of rosy purple that lent a kind of Oriental splendor to the tawdry, unsightly cluster of shacks that sprawled here and there in irregular bunches on the prairie.
"What a picture it makes!" cried Mandy.

"How wonderful this great plain with its encircling rivers, those hills with the great peaks beyond! What a site for a town!" "There is no finer," replied her husband, "anywhere in the world that I know, unless it be that of 'Auld Reekie.'" "Meaning ?" "Meaning!" he echoed indignantly.