Although she was to all appearances the same giddy, pretty Betsy Baker, who had been so disturbing to the younger members, they seemed to be no longer disturbed by her.

A certain subdued awe and respect, as if the martyred spirit of John Baker still held his arm around her, appeared to have come upon them all.

They held their breath as this pretty woman, whose brief mourning had not seemed to affect her cheerfulness or even playfulness of spirit, passed before them.

But she stood by her cabin and the camp--the only woman in a settlement of forty men--during the darkest hours of their fortune.

Helping them to wash and cook, and ministering to their domestic needs, the sanctity of her cabin was, however, always kept as inviolable as if it had been HIS tomb.