When Ed told of gathering up the fragments of torn clothing, she asked to see them at once.  Ed hesitated, and Douglas suggested that she wait until a later time when her nerves were steadier; but she was determined, and insisted upon seeing them without delay, and there was nothing to do but produce them.  Contrary to their expectations, she made no scene when they were placed before her, and though her hand trembled a little was quite collected as she took up the blood-stained pieces of cloth and examined them critically one by one.  Finally she raised her head and announced: 

“None o’ them were ever a part o’ Bob’s clothes.”

“Whose now may un be if not Bob’s?” asked Ed, sceptical of her decision.

“None of un were Bob’s.  I were makin’ all o’ Bob’s clothes, an’—­I—­knows:  I knows,” she insisted.

“But th’ flat sled were Bob’s, an’ th’ tent an’ other things,” said Ed.

“Th’ clothes were not Bob’s—­an’ Bob were not killed by wolves—­my lad is livin’—­somewheres—­I feels my lad is livin’,” she asserted.

Then Ed told of the two axes found—­one on the toboggan and the other on the snow—­and Mrs. Gray raised another question.

“Why,” she asked, “had he two axes?”

It was explained that he had probably taken one in on a previous trip and cached it.  But she argued that if he needed an axe going in on the previous trip he must have needed it coming out too, and it was not likely that he would have cached it.  Besides, she was quite sure that he had but one axe with him in the bush, as there was no extra axe for him to take when he was leaving home; and Douglas said that when he left the trail at the close of the previous season he had left no axe in any of the tilts.

“Richard ’ll know un when he comes,” said she.  “Richard’ll know Bob’s axe.”

The mother was still more positive now that the remains they had found were not Bob’s remains, and Ed and Douglas, though equally positive that she was mistaken, let her hold the hope—­or rather belief—­that Bob still lived.  She asserted that he was alive as one states a fact that one knows is beyond question.  The circumstantial evidence against her theory was strong, but a woman’s intuition stands not for reason, and her conclusions she will hold against the world.

“I must be takin’ th’ word in t’ Richard though ‘tis a sore trial t’ do it,” said Douglas, preparing at once to go.  “I’ll be findin’ un on th’ trail.  Keep courage, Mary, until we comes.  ’Twill be but four days at furthest,” he added as he was going out of the door.

Ed left immediately after for his home, to spend a day or two before returning to his inland trail, and Mrs. Gray and Emily and Bessie were left alone again in a gloom of sorrow that approached despair.

That night long after the light was out and they had gone to bed, Mrs. Gray, who was still lying awake with her trouble, heard Emily softly speak: