It'll be a city some day. At present it's
still in the shambling stage of civic youth."
In so far as Hazel had observed upon her former visit, this, if a
trifle sweeping, was in the main correct. So she had no regrets when
Bill confined their stay to the time necessary to turn his gold into a
bank account, and allow her to buy a trunkful, more or less, of pretty
clothes. Then they bore on eastward and halted at Ashcroft. Bill had
refused to commit himself positively to a date for the eastern
pilgrimage. He wanted to see the cabin again. For that matter she
did, too--so that their sojourn there did not carry them over another
winter. That loomed ahead like a vague threat. Those weary months in
the Klappan Range had filled her with the subtle poison of discontent,
for which she felt that new scenes and new faces would prove the only
antidote.
"There's a wagon road to Fort George," he told her. "We could go in
there by the B. X. steamers, but I'm afraid we couldn't buy an outfit
to go on. I guess a pack outfit from the end of the stage line will be
about right."
From Ashcroft an auto stage whirled them swiftly into the heart of the
Cariboo country--to Quesnelle, where Bill purchased four head of horses
in an afternoon, packed, saddled, and hit the trail at daylight in the
morning.
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