The more Martin considered the idea that the missionary might cross the mountains and visit the Tasko Indians the more uneasy he became. He called himself a coward and asked why he should run away. But he well knew that he could not bear to meet the missionary. It would be better for him to be on the watch and slip away with Nance somewhere out of sight if necessary. He could come back again, for the missionary would not be likely to make more than one visit a year if he came at all. Then, if the Indians became Christians, he could remove to some place farther away, erect another cabin, and cut himself off entirely from all contact with the natives.

In order, however, to move around easily and at will, it was important that he should have a canoe of his own. By means of this he could traverse the river leading from the lake, and explore the region lying westward. He had spoken to Taku about the country beyond, but the Indian knew very little. It was a land of mystery, so he was informed. The River Heena, which drained the lake, flowed on and on until it came to a mighty river called by the Indians the "Ayan."

After careful consideration, Martin determined to fashion a canoe out of one of the trees standing near the shore of the lake. He would need the craft, so he told himself, for fishing purposes, and it would be pleasant to take Nance out upon the water on many an enjoyable trip.

As the days were now lengthening, and the spirit of spring was breathing over the land, it was possible to work out of doors in comfort. Martin had met with much success in trapping during the winter, and had sent numerous fine skins with the Indians when they had again crossed the mountains to the trading post. In addition to more provisions he had been able to obtain a good new axe, which was a great improvement upon the poor one belonging to the natives. He could now do much better work in less time with the axe the trader had sent to him from the post.

Instructed by Taku, Martin chose a large tree which would suit his purpose. It was a tedious task, and weeks glided speedily by as he hewed the tree into the desired shape, and dug out the interior. As the work progressed Taku was always on hand, and sometimes he would bring his own axe and hew away for hours. He was very particular about the thickness of the shell, and would often pause and feel the sides to be sure that they were not too thick or too thin.

At length the day arrived when the axes were laid aside. The canoe was then filled with water, and a fire built all around it, far enough away so as to heat but not to scorch the wood. Stones were made red hot and placed into the craft, and these soon brought the water to the boiling point. This was kept up for a whole day, thus making the wood of the canoe pliable and capable of expansion. By means of narrow strips of wood hewn smooth and flat the canoe was expanded in the middle to the desired width. When the water had been taken out, and the shell allowed to cool, the sides of the canoe were thus rigid and curved in a uniform and graceful fashion. Martin was much delighted with the craft, and thanked Taku most heartily. He was anxious now for the ice to break up so he could launch the canoe, and take Nance for a spin upon the lake.

During the whole of this time Nance stayed close by Martin. She played among the chips, building little houses for her doll. Often she would sit and watch the canoe which was a wonderful thing in her eyes. When she was told that it would carry her over the lake she became much excited, and could hardly wait for the ice to disappear. But one morning when they woke the lake was clear, the ice having all run out during the night. Then Martin and Taku launched the canoe, which floated gracefully upon the glassy surface of the water. Nance and Quabee sat in the bottom, while Martin and Taku used the paddles. Over the lake they sped, exploring every cove, and returned after a couple of hours well satisfied with the craft.

That night Nance could talk of nothing but the canoe, where they would go, and what they would do.

"What shall we call it, Nance?" Martin asked. "We haven't given our canoe a name yet, you know."

"Let's call it Beryl," was the reply. "Won't that be a nice name?"

"Very well, little one," Martin assented. "It shall be as you say."

Almost every day after this Martin took Nance out upon the water. The fishing was good, and many were the fine salmon they brought to land. But when not fishing Martin would paddle slowly over the lake far away from the cabin. Often the water was perfectly calm like a huge mirror, reflecting the trees and rocks along the shore, as well as the great fleecy clouds which floated lazily overhead. At such times a complete silence brooded over the lake. No discords from the far-off throbbing world of commerce disturbed the quiet scene. It was as serene and beautiful as when it came fresh from the hand of its Creator. Here there was no mad rush for wealth, position, or fame. Here no huge industries vomited forth their volumes of poisonous smoke, nor crushed out the very life-blood of countless men, women, and children. Here there was abundance for all in forest and in stream. Martin thought of all this as he paddled slowly over the lake. They were happy hours for him. Nance was near and often he would look upon her with love and pride. Her chief enjoyment consisted in trailing one little hand through the water by the side of the canoe. Often her joyous laugh would ring out over the silent reaches, and then she would listen entranced to its echo far away in the distance.

One bright afternoon Martin turned the prow of his canoe up the Quaska River. Hitherto he had not paddled up this stream but had been content to spend his time upon the lake. For some distance as he advanced the shores were lined with fir and jack-pines right to the water's edge. At length he came to a large wild meadow where the stream sulked along, and paddling was much easier. Beyond this the trees were small and straggling, showing evidence of fires which had devastated the land. The water here was shallow, and at times the canoe grated upon the gravel. Ere long he reached the mouth of a small stream flowing into the Quaska. Here he ran the craft ashore, and making it fast to a tree he took Nance by the hand, and walked slowly up the creek. It was a quiet sun-lit place, where cottonwood trees and jack-pines lined the sloping hills. An Indian trail led along the bank, and this they followed for some distance. Coming at last to a fair-sized tree, a patriarch among its fellows, they paused.

"We'll have something to eat now," Martin remarked, as he seated himself upon the ground beneath the shade of the outspreading branches.

"Oh, this is nice!" Nance sighed, as she took her place at his feet, and watched him unfold the parcel which contained their food. "Wouldn't it be nice to stay here all the time?"

"Not at night, Nance," and Martin laughed. "It would be cold then, and there might be bears around."

"Would there?" and the child drew closer to her guardian. "Will they come here now, do you think?"

"Don't be afraid," was the reassuring reply. "They'll not trouble us in the day-time."

Their repast was soon over, and then Martin filled and lighted his pipe and leaned back against the old tree. Nance played close to the water, and made little mounds out of the black sand along the shore. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees, and the hot sun slanting down through the forest caused the water to gleam like burnished silver. Birds flitted here and there, while squirrels chased one another along the ground, and ran chattering up among the boughs overhead.

Martin's eyes were fixed upon Nance, but his thoughts were far away. Such a scene of peace and quietness always brought Beryl to his mind. He recalled one such afternoon when they had wandered among the trees, fields, and flowers. Her bright, happy face rose before him. He remembered her words as they sat under a large tree to rest. "I often wonder," she had said, "why such happiness is mine. It seems almost too good to be true, and I fear lest something may happen to spoil it all." How little did she then know that in less than a year her fairy castle would be shattered, and all her fond hopes destroyed. Martin's hands clenched hard as all this came to him now. He rose abruptly from his reclining position, and moved to the bank of the stream.

"What are you doing, Nance?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh, just digging in the sand, and making houses," was the reply. "Come and help me, daddy."

In an instant Martin was by her side, helping her to shape queer little mounds with the sand which was so fine and black. Presently he noticed little golden specks, which gleamed whenever a ray of sunshine touched them. He examined them closely, and found that where the sand had not been disturbed a thin layer of such specks was lying upon the surface. Instinctively he knew that it was gold, which had been washed down with the water and deposited along the shore. Much interested, he examined the sand for several rods up and down the stream, and everywhere he found signs of gold.

He next turned his attention to the gravel lying beneath the water. Scooping up a quantity of this with his hands he found golden specks all through it as well as a number of small nuggets each about the size of rice. This discovery caused his heart to beat rapidly, and he sat down upon the bank in order to think. Gold! Had he made a rich discovery? The earth must be full of it, and perhaps beneath his feet the treasure was lying hidden. The glorious day, and the glamour of his surroundings appealed to him no longer. The idea of the great riches so near possessed his mind. The whole valley stretching between the high walls was his. It was full of gold beyond measure.

Ere long another feeling came upon him. Suppose he did get gold what should he do with it? Gold was useful only out in the world of civilisation. But here it was of no more value than the common stones lying in the river's bed. The Indians knew nothing about it. To them the skins of the animals roaming in the forest were more precious than heaps of the gleaming ore. He well knew that if his discovery became known beyond the mountains a flood of miners would pour into the region, and instead of peace and quietness there would be the wild commotion of a mining town. No, such a thing should not occur. It should be kept a secret. He would say nothing of his find to the Indians. In fact if they did learn of it they would not give themselves the trouble of visiting the place, he was sure of that.

When at length he unfastened the canoe, and started with Nance down to the lake, his mind was so full of the discovery he had made that he paid little or no heed to the prattle of the child.