"What's your name, little girl?"
"Winifred."
"That's a pretty name," said the young trooper. "Are you going to Fort Benton with your papa?"
"No. Papa's dead—and—mamma. That's my brother," indicating the man who had held her. "He came to get me. His name is Charlie."
"Dear little girl!" thought Philip Danvers, as the child ran to brotherly arms.
"Howdy!" Charlie gave unconventional greeting as he took a bench near by.
"I've been getting acquainted with your sister," explained the Englishman.
"Glad of it. Winnie's afraid of most o' the men, an' there aren't more'n three white women up the river. I've had to bring her back with me, and I don't know much about children. But there's one good old lady at Benton," the frontiersman proceeded, cheerfully. "She'll look after her. You see, I'm away most of the time. I'm a freighter between the head of navigation and the Whoop Up Country—Fort Macleod."
"Oh!"
"I got the contract to haul the supplies for the North West Mounted Police this spring. I'll be in Fort Macleod 'most as soon as you, I reckon. What is it, Winnie?" he questioned, as the child drew shrinking closer to him.