Twelve hundred dollars was a lot of
money, far more than she needed, and she did not know how she could
return it. She sat a long time with the money in her lap, thinking.
Then she took up the map, recognizing it as the sheet of paper Bill had
worked over so long their last night at the cabin.
It made the North more clear--a great deal more clear--to her, for he
had marked Cariboo Meadows, the location of his cabin, and Bella Coola,
and drawn dotted lines to indicate the way he had taken her in and
brought her out. The Fraser and its tributaries, some of the crossings
that she remembered were sketched in, the mountains and the lakes by
which his trail had wound.
"I wonder if that's a challenge to my vindictive disposition?" she
murmured. "I told him so often that I'd make him sweat for his
treachery if ever I got a chance. Ah well--"
She put away the money and the map, and bestowed a brief scrutiny upon
herself in the cabin mirror. Six months in the wild had given her a
ruddy color, the glow of perfect physical condition. But her garments
were tattered and sadly out of date. The wardrobe of the steamer-trunk
lady had suffered in the winter's wear. She was barely presentable in
the outing suit of corduroy.
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