In a few minutes they passed from the village and entered a grove of trees which extended down to the shore of the lake.  In the midst of this was a clearing, and situated here was a log building of generous proportions, well made, and altogether different from the rest in the settlement.  It was a two-story building, facing the water, with large windows, and a spacious verandah sweeping around the front and both sides.  Wherever it was possible, paint had been liberally applied, and the white on the sashes, the green on the corner-boards, and the red on the roof gave it a striking appearance.  It might well have been the home of some millionaire, who had thus sought seclusion in the wilderness, adding to his domicile a few touches of the world of civilization.

The grounds were well kept, showing that much attention had been bestowed upon them.  Flowers bloomed in profusion, and off to the left a vegetable garden showed what the north could produce.  A gravelly walk led to the water, and here at a small wharf floated a motor-boat, graceful in appearance, and capable of carrying passengers and freight.  Several Indian men were standing on the wharf, while others, including women and children, were paddling in canoes but a short distance away.  It was a scene of peace and seclusion, a regular fairy-land nestling there in the wilds.  Even the storms of winter could not affect the place, for besides the sheltering trees which surrounded it on all sides, the frowning ridge of the Golden Crest formed a mighty barrier to the rear.

But Glen noticed none of these things, for something else occupied her mind this evening.  She had remained silent since leaving the store, but now that the house was in sight, she halted Midnight at the edge of the woods and looked at her Indian companion.

“Is daddy home yet?” she asked, speaking in the rhythmical native language with which she was so familiar.

“Not home,” was the brief reply.

“He said that he might come to-day, didn’t he?”

The Indian, merely nodded.

“He has been gone for nearly a week now,” Glen continued, “and I wonder what can be keeping him.  Do you think he will come to-night?”

“Sconda doesn’t know.  Big white chief alone knows.”

Glen laughed and stroked Midnight’s neck with an impatient hand.

“I guess you are right, Sconda.  Daddy alone knows what he is going to do, for he never tells me, at any rate.  But as he is not here I must take matters into my own hands.  You know Deep Gulch beyond the Golden Crest?” and she motioned to the left.

Again the Indian nodded.

“Well, then, there is a dead bear in the Gulch, Sconda, and I want you to take men and bring it in, see?”

A new light now shone in the native’s eyes, and he looked enquiringly into the girl’s face.

“Bear?” he asked.  “In Deep Gulch?”

“Yes, and a grizzly at that; a monster.  Oh, it was terrible!” and Glen shivered as the recollection of the brute’s fierce charge swept upon her.