But sleep refused to close his own eyes, and he lay on his back, painfully awake.

In spite of the resolution he had made to think no more of the woman at Lac Bain, his mind swept him back to her irresistibly.

He recalled every incident that had occurred, every word that she had spoken, since he had first looked upon her beautiful face out on the Churchill trail.

He could find nothing but purity and sweetness until he came with her for that fatal hour or two into the company of Bucky Nome.

And then, again, his blood grew hot.