A MATING IN THE WILDS

_BORZOI WESTERN STORIES_

THE CROSS PULL _By Hal G. Evarts_

THE LONG DIM TRAIL _By Forrestine Hooker_

A MATING IN THE WILDS _By Ottwell Binns_

A MATING IN THE WILDS

BY

OTTWELL BINNS

NEW YORK ALFRED A. KNOPF 1920

COPYRIGHT, 1920, BYALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

 I THE MAN FROM THE RIVER, 7

 II AN ATTACK AT MIDNIGHT, 18

 III A LOST GIRL, 31

 IV A PIECE OF WRECKAGE, 43

 V A BRAVE RESCUE, 56

 VI A MYSTERIOUS SHOT, 68

 VII STRANDED, 80

 VIII A MEETING IN THE FOREST, 95

 IX UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE, 105

 X A CANOE COMES AND GOES, 118

 XI A FOREST FIRE, 132

 XII THE RAFT, 146

 XIII A LODGE IN THE WILDERNESS, 158

 XIV MYSTERIOUS VISITORS, 172

 XV A FACE AT THE TENT-DOOR, 185

 XVI AN ARROW OUT OF THE NIGHT, 199

 XVII THE ATTACK, 212

XVIII A DEAD GIRL, 225

 XIX A HOT TRAIL, 238

 XX A PRISONER, 251

 XXI CHIGMOK'S STORY, 264

 XXII AINLEY'S STORY, 278

XXIII A SURPRISE FOR AINLEY, 292

 XXIV THE TRAIL TO PARADISE, 305

CHAPTER I

THE MAN FROM THE RIVER

The man in the canoe was lean and hardy, and wielded the paddle againstthe slow-moving current of the wide river with a dexterity thatproclaimed long practice. His bronzed face was that of a quite youngman, but his brown hair was interspersed with grey; and his blue eyeshad a gravity incompatible with youth, as if already he had experienceof the seriousness of life, and had eaten of its bitter fruits. He wasin a gala dress of tanned deerskin, fringed and worked by native hands, the which had quite probably cost him more than the most elegant suitby a Bond Street tailor, and the effect was as picturesque as the heartof a young male could desire. To be in keeping with such gay attire heshould have worn a smiling face, and sung some joyous chanson of theold voyageurs, but he neither sang nor smiled; paddling steadily ontowards his destination. 

This was a northern post of the Hudson Bay Company, built in the formof a hollow square with a wide frontage open to the river. The tradingstore, the warehouse, and the factor's residence with its trim garden, occupied the other three sides of the square, and along the river frontwas a small floating wharf. A tall flag-pole rose above the buildings, and the flag itself fluttered gaily in the summer breeze, taking theeye at once with its brave colouring. 

The young man in the canoe noticed it whilst he was half a mile away, and for a moment, ceasing his paddling, he looked at it doubtfully, hisbrow puckering over his grave eyes. The canoe began to drift backwardin the current, but he made no effort to check it, instead, he satthere staring at the distant flag, with a musing look upon his face, asif he were debating some question with himself. At last he spoke aloud, after the habit of men who dwell much alone. 

"The steamer can't have come yet. It probably means nothing except thatthe factor is expecting its arrival. Anyway I must have the grub, and Ican get away in the morning. "

He dipped his paddle again. The canoe ceased to drift and began toforge ahead towards the post. Before he drew level with it, he startedto steer across the current, but instead of making for the wharf, beached his canoe on the rather marshy bank to the north of thebuildings; then having lifted it out of the water, he stood to his fullheight and stretched himself, for he had been travelling in the canoeeleven days and was conscious of body stiffness owing to the crampedposition he had so long maintained. 

Standing on the bank he surveyed the river carefully. Except for adrifting log there was nothing moving on its wide expanse. He listenedintently. The soft wind was blowing down river, but it did not bringwith it the throb of a steamer's screw which he half expected to hear. He nodded to himself. 

"Time enough!"

Then he became aware of sounds for which he had not listened--thevoices of men somewhere in the post's enclosure, and, nearer at hand, that of some one singing in some soft Indian dialect. He turnedswiftly, and coming along a half-defined path between the willows, caught sight of the singer--a native girl of amazing beauty. 

She wore a tunic of beaded caribou-skin, which fitting closely revealedrather than concealed the lines of her lithe young figure. Her face waslight-bronze in colour, every feature clearly cut as a cameo, theforehead smooth and high, the nose delicately aquiline, the lips aperfect cupid's bow, the eyebrows high and arched. The eyes themselveswere soft and dark and had the wildness of the wilderness-born, whilstthe hair, black and luminous as the raven's wing, crisped in curlsinstead of hanging in the straight plaits of the ordinary native woman. She moved forward slowly with graceful stride of one whose feet hadnever known the cramping of civilized foot-gear, tall and straight andas royal-looking as Eve must have been when she left the hand of God. 

To the man, as he stood there, she seemed like an incarnate spirit ofthe wilds, like the soft breath of the Northland spring, like----

Similes failed him of the suddenest, for in that instant the girl grewaware of him and checked her stride and song at the same moment. For afraction of time they stood there looking at each other, the man of thewhite dominant race, the girl of a vanishing people, whose origin isshrouded in the grey mists of time. There was wonder on the man's face, for never had he seen such beauty in a native, and on the girl's facethere was a startled look such as the forest doe shows when the windbrings the breath of a presence that it does not see. Then the delicatenostrils quivered, the soft dark eyes kindled with sudden flame, andthe rich blood surged in the bronze face from chin to brow. Almostunconsciously the man took a step forward. But at that the girl, turning suddenly, fled between the willows like the creature of thewild she was, and the man checked himself and stood watching until shewas lost to view. 

There was a thoughtful look in his blue eyes which suddenly gave way ashe smiled. 

"A tinted Venus!" he murmured to himself. "I wonder where she belongs. "

Looking round, away across the willows, planted on the meadow above themarshy banks, he caught sight of the tops of a couple of moose-hidetepees, and nodded to himself. 

"Come with the family to barter the winter's fur-catch. "

For a moment he stood there with his eyes fixed on the skin-tents. There was a reflective look upon his face, and at the end of the momenthe made a movement towards the path along which the girl had fled. Thenhe stopped, laughed harshly at himself, and with the old look back onhis face, turned again to his canoe, unloaded it, and began to pitchcamp. 

At the end of half an hour, having lit a pipe, he strolled towards thetrading-post. Entering the Square of the enclosure he lookednonchalantly about him. Two men, half-breeds, were sitting on aroughly-made bench outside the store, smoking and talking. Inside thestore a tall Indian was bartering with a white man, whom he easilyguessed to be the factor, and as he looked round from the open door ofthe factor's house, emerged a white woman whom he divined was thefactor's wife. She was followed by a rather dapper young man of mediumheight, and who, most incongruously in that wild Northland, sported asingle eyeglass. The man fell into step by the woman's side, andtogether they began to walk across the Square in the direction of thestore. 

The man from the river watched them idly, waiting where he was, puffingslowly at his pipe, until they drew almost level with him. Then hestiffened suddenly, and an alert look came in his eyes. 

At the same moment the other man, apparently becoming aware of hispresence for the first time, stared at him calmly, almost insolently. Then he started. The monocle dropped from his eye, and his face wentsuddenly white. He half-paused in his stride, then averting his gazefrom the other man hurried forward a little. The factor's wife, who hadobserved the incident, looked at him inquiringly. 

"Do you know that man, Mr. Ainley?"

The dapper young man laughed a short, discordant laugh. 

"He certainly bears a resemblance to a man whom I knew some years ago. "

"He seemed to recognize you, Mr. Ainley. I saw that much in his eyes. "

"Then probably he is the man whom I used to know, but I did not expectto meet him up here. "

"No?" She waited as if for further information which was notimmediately forthcoming, then she continued: "There are many men uphere whom one does not expect to meet, men who belong 'to the legion ofthe lost ones, the cohort of the damned, ' who have buried their oldselves for ever. I wonder if that man is one of them?"

Gerald Ainley's face had regained its natural colour. Again he laughedas he replied: "If he is the man I knew he is certainly of the lostlegion, for he has been in prison. "

"In prison?" echoed the woman quickly. "He does not look like agaol-bird. What was the crime?"

"Forgery! The judge was merciful and gave him three years' penalservitude. "

"What is his name?"

"Stane--Hubert Stane!" replied the man shortly. As he spoke he glancedback over his shoulder towards the man whom they were discussing, thenhastily averted his eyes. 

The man from the river had turned round and was looking at him withconcentrated gaze. His face was working as if he had lost control ofhis facial muscles, and his hands were tightly clenched. It was clearthat the meeting with Ainley had been something of a shock to him, andfrom his attitude it appeared that he resented the other man'saloofness. 

"The hound!" he whispered to himself, "the contemptible hound!"

Then as Ainley and the factor's wife disappeared in the store, helaughed harshly and relit his pipe. As he did so, his fingers shook sothat the match bobbed against the pipe-bowl, and it was very manifestthat he was undergoing a great strain. He stood there staring at thestore. Once he began to move towards it irresolutely, then changed hismind and came to a standstill again. 

"No!" he whispered below his breath. "I'll wait till the cad comesout--I'll force him to acknowledge me. "

But scarcely had he reached the decision, when on the quiet air camethe clear notes of a bugle sounding the alert and turning his thoughtsin a new direction. The notes came from the river, and were so alien tothat northern land that he swung round to discover their origin. At thesame moment the two half-breeds leapt from the bench and began to runtowards the wharf. John Rodwell, the factor and his wife, emerged fromthe store and hurried in the same direction, followed by the Indian whohad been bartering. Two other men appeared at the warehouse door, andas the strains of the bugle sounded again, also began to run towardsthe wharf, whilst from the factor's house came a boy and girl, followedby a white woman and a couple of Indian servants, all of whom followedin the wake of the others. 

The man in the Square did not move. Having turned towards the river asthe bugle-call floated clear and silvery, and being unable to seeupstream because of the fort buildings, he remained where he was, keeping one eye on the store. The man who had passed him in the Squarehad not emerged. Stane stood there for two or three minutes watchingfirst the river and then the door. At the end of that time, with aresolute look on his face, he began to stride towards the store. He washalf-way there when the sound of a thin cheer reached him from thewharf. He turned and looked round. His change of position had given himan enlarged view of the river, and distant perhaps a quarter of a mileor so away he saw a brigade of boats. He stood and stared at themwonderingly for a moment, then resumed his way towards the store. 

As he entered he looked round, and, standing near the parchment windowhe caught sight of the man for whom he was looking. Ainley was ratherwhite of face, but his eyeglass was in its place, and outwardly he wascollected and cool. Hubert Stane regarded him silently for a moment, then he laughed mirthlessly. 

"Well, Ainley, " he said abruptly, "this is a strange meeting place. "

"Ah!" said the other quickly. "It is you, Stane, after all!"

"Surely you knew that just now?" was the reply in a cutting voice. 

"No, you wrong me there! I was not sure. You must remember that I wasnot expecting to see you up here. You had dropped out, and I had neverheard a word of you since--since----"

"Since I went to Dartmoor, " Stane laughed again his cold, mirthlesslaugh. "There is no need to mince matters, Ainley. All the world knowsI went there, and you need not go to any trouble to spare my feelings. When a man has been through hell nothing else matters, you know. "

Gerald Ainley did not reply. He stood there with an embarrassed look onhis face, obviously ill at ease, and the other continued: "You do notseem pleased to see me--an old friend--you cut me just now. Why?"

"Well--er--really, Stane you--you ought to--er--be able to guess!"

"Perhaps I can, " answered Stane ruthlessly. "Things are different now. I am a discharged convict, down and out, and old friendship counts fornothing. Is that it?"

"Well, " replied Ainley, half-apologetically, "you can scarcely expectthat it sould be otherwise. I suppose that, really, that is why youleft England. It would have been impossible for you to resume your oldlife among the men you knew----"

"You are the first of them that I have encountered--with oneexception. "

"Indeed, " asked the other politely, "who was the exception?"

"It was Kingsley. You remember him? He came to see me just before Ileft Dartmoor. He believed in my innocence, and he wanted me to stay inEngland and clear my name. He also told me something that set methinking, and latterly I have been rather wanting to meet you, becausethere is a question I want answering. "

The sound of the bugle playing a gay fanfare broke in on the silencethat followed his words, and this was followed by a rather scatteredcheer. Ainley started. 

"Really, Stane, you must excuse me just now; I must go down to thewharf--it is my duty to do so. At--er--a more fitting opportunity Ishall be glad for the sake of old times, to answer any question thatyou may wish to ask me. But I really must go now. That is one of thegovernors of the company arriving. He will be expecting to see me!"

He took a step towards the door, but the other blocked the way. 

"I'm not going to be fobbed off with a mere excuse, Ainley. I want totalk with you; and if I can't have it now, I must know when I can. "

"Where are you staying?" asked the other shakily. 

"My camp is just outside the post here. "

"Then I will come to you tonight, Stane. I shall be late--midnight aslike as not. "

"I shall wait for you, " answered Stane, and stepped aside. 

Ainley made a hurried exit, and the man whom he had left, moving to thedoor, watched him running towards the wharf, where a large Peterboro'canoe had just swung alongside. There were several others making forthe wharf, and as Stane watched, one by one they drew up, anddischarged their complement of passengers. From his vantage place onthe rising ground the watcher saw a rather short man moving up from thewharf accompanied by the obsequious factor, and behind him two othermen and four ladies, with the factor's wife and Gerald Ainley. Thesound of feminine laughter drifted up the Square, and as it reached himStane stepped out from the store and hurried away in the oppositedirection. 

CHAPTER II

AN ATTACK AT MIDNIGHT

It was near midnight, but far from dark. In the northern heavens a rosyglow proclaimed the midnight sun. Somewhere in the willows a robin waschirping, and from the wide bosom of the river, like the thin howl of awolf, came the mocking cry of a loon still pursuing its finny prey. Andin his little canvas tent, sitting just inside, so as to catch thesmoke of the fire that afforded protection from the mosquitoes, HubertStane still watched and waited for the coming of his promised visitor. He was smoking, and from the look upon his face it was clear that hewas absorbed in thoughts that were far from pleasant. His pipe wentout, and still he sat there, thinking, thinking. Half an hour passedand the robin making the discovery that it was really bed-time, ceasedits chirping; the loon no longer mocked the wolf, but still the man satbehind his smoke-smudge, tireless, unsleeping, waiting. Anotherhalf-hour crept by with leaden feet, then a new sound broke thestillness of the wild, the tinkling of a piano, sadly out of tune, followed by a chorus of voices lifted up in the homeland song. 

 "Should auld acquaintance be forgot And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot And days o' lang syne?"

As the simple melody progressed, a look of bitterness came on Stane'sface, for the song brought to him memories of other times and sceneswhich he had done his best to forget. He started to his feet andstepping outside the tent began to walk restlessly to and fro. Themusic ended and he stood still to listen. Now no sound except theripple of the river broke the quiet, and after a moment he nodded tohimself. "Now, he will come. "

The thin pungent song of a mosquito impinged upon the stillness, something settled on his neck and there followed a swift sting like thepuncture of a hypodermic needle. Instantly he slapped the place withhis hand, and retreated behind his smoke-smudge. There he threw himselfonce more on the pack that served him for seat and waited, as it seemedinterminably. 

His fire died down, the smoke ceased to hide the view, and through theadjacent willows came the sudden sough of moving air. A robin brokeinto song, and once more the wail of the loon sounded from the wideriver. Away to the north the sky flushed with crimson glory, then thesun shot up red and golden. A new day had broken; and Stane had watchedthrough the brief night of the Northland summer for a man who had notappeared and he was now assured, would not come. 

He laughed bitterly, and rising kicked the fire together, threw onfresh fuel, and after one look towards the still sleeping Post, returned to the tent, wrapped himself in a blanket, and shortly afterfell asleep. 

Three hours later he was awakened by a clatter of voices and theclamour of barking dogs, passing from sleep to full wakeness like ahealthy child. Kicking the blanket from him he slipped on his moccasinsand stepped outside where the source of the clamour at once manifesteditself. A party of Indians had just beached their canoes, and wereexchanging greetings with another party, evidently that whose tepeesstood on the meadow outside the fort, for among the women he saw theIndian girl who had fled through the willows after encountering him. Hewatched the scene with indifferent eyes for a moment or two, thensecuring a canvas bucket went down to the river for water, and made histoilet. That done, he cooked his breakfast, ate it, tided up his camp, and lighting a pipe strolled into the enclosure of the Post. SeveralIndians were standing outside the store, and inside the factor and hisclerk were already busy with others; bartering for the peltries broughtfrom the frozen north to serve the whims of fashion in warmer lands. Inthe Square itself stood the plump gentleman who had landed the daybefore, talking to a cringing half-breed, whilst a couple of ladieswith him watched the aborigines outside the store with curious eyes. Stane glanced further afield. Two men were busy outside the warehouse, a second half-breed sprawled on the bench by the store, but the man forwhom he had waited through the night was not in sight. 

With a grimace of disappointment he moved towards the store. As he didso a little burst of mellow laughter sounded, and turning swiftly hesaw the man whom he was looking for round the corner of the warehouseaccompanied by a girl, who laughed heartily at some remark of hercompanion. Stane halted in his tracks and looked at the pair who wereperhaps a dozen yards or so away. The monocled Ainley could not but beaware of his presence, yet except that he kept his gaze resolutelyaverted, he gave no sign of being so. But the girl looked at himfrankly, and as she did so, Hubert Stane looked back, and caught hisbreath, as he had reason to. 

She was fair as an English rose, moulded in spacious lines like adaughter of the gods, with an aureole of glorious chestnut hair, shotwith warm tints of gold and massed in simplicity about a queenly head. Her mouth was full, her chin was softly strong, her neck round and firmas that of a Grecian statue, and her eyes were bluey-grey as the mistof the northern woods. Fair she was, and strong--a true type of thosewomen who, bred by the English meadows, have adventured with their menand made their homes in the waste places of the earth. 

Her grey eyes met Stane's quite frankly, without falling, then turnednonchalantly to her companion, and Stane, watching, saw her speak, andas Ainley flashed a swift glance in his direction, and then repliedwith a shrug of his shoulders, he easily divined that the girl hadasked a question about himself. They passed him at half a dozen yardsdistance, Ainley with his face set like a flint, the girl with ascrutinizing sidelong glance that set the blood rioting in Stane'sheart. He stood and watched them until they reached the wharf, saw themstep into a canoe, and then, both of them paddling, they thrust out tothe broad bosom of the river. 

Not till then did he avert his gaze, and turn again to the store. Thegreat man of the company was still talking to the half-breed, and theother half-breed had risen from his seat and was staring into thestore. He looked round as Stane approached him. 

"By gar, " he said enthusiastically, "dat one very fine squaw-girldere. "

Stane looked forward through the open doorway, and standing near thelong counter, watching a tall Indian bartering with the factor, saw thebeautiful Indian girl from the neighbouring camp. He nodded anaffirmative, and seeing an opportunity to obtain information turned andspoke to the man. 

"Yes, but that girl there with Mr. Ainley----"

"Oui, m'sieu. But she no squaw-girl. She grand person who make' ze tourwith ze governor. "

"Oh, the governor makes the tour, does he?"

"Oui, oui! In the old style, with a brigade of boats, and a bugler. Asummer trip, vous comprenez--a picnic to all ze posts in ze province. Thus it is to be a great man!"

"And Mr. Ainley, what is he doing at Fort Malsun?"

"Ah, M'sieu Ainley! He also is ze great man. He is to be among thegovernors--one day. He also visits ze posts, and will no doubt travelwith ze governor, whose protégé he is. "

"Is that so?"

"Dat is so! He is ze favourite, vous comprenez?"

"I did not know it. "

"Non? But so it ees! And Louis and me, we go with heem in ze canoe toserve heem. Though by gar, I like to make stop here, an' talk to datsquaw-girl. "

Stane made no vocal reply to this. He nodded carelessly and passed intothe store. Factor Rodwell looked round as he entered, and surveyed himwith a measuring eye, as if taking stock of a new acquaintance, thengave him a curt nod and resumed his barter with the Indian. Hisassistant being also busy for the moment, Stane turned towards theIndian girl whose liquid eyes were regarding him shyly, and addressedher in her native dialect. 

"Little sister, why did you run from me yesterday?"

The girl was covered with confusion at the directness of his question, and to help her over her embarrassment the young man laughed. 

"You did not mistake me for Moorseen (the black bear) or the bald-facegrizzly, did you?"

At the question the girl laughed shyly, and shook her head withoutspeaking. 

"I am but a man, and not the grizzled one. Wherefore should you runfrom me, little sister?"

"I had never seen such a man before. "

The directness of the answer, given in a shy voice, astonished him. Itwas his turn to be embarrassed and he strove to turn the edge of thecompliment. 

"Never seen a white man before!" he cried in mock amazement. 

"I did not say that I had never seen a white man before. I have seenmany. The priest up at Fort of God, the doctor priest at the Last Hope, the factor there, and M'sieu Ainley who came to our camp yesternight. And there is also this fat man they call the governor--a great chief, it is said; though he does not look as such a great one should look. Yes, I have seen many white men, but none like thee before. "

Hubert Stane was routed once more by the girl's directness, but stroveto recover himself by a return of compliments. 

"Well, " he laughed, "for that matter there are none so many likethyself in the world. I wonder what thy name is?"

The girl flushed with pleasure at the compliment, and answered hisquestion without reserve. 

"I am Miskodeed. "

"The Beauty of the Spring! Then thou art well-named, little sister!"

The girl flushed with pleasure. The flame that had leapt in her darkeyes at their first meeting burned once more, and where, but for aninterruption, the conversation would have drifted can only beconjectured. But at that precise moment the tall Indian called to her. 

"Miskodeed. "

The girl moved swiftly to him and with a gesture that was almost royalthe Indian pointed to a pile of trade goods heaped upon the longcounter. The girl gathered as much as was possible in her arms, andstaggered with her load from the store, and as Factor Rodwell nodded tohim, Hubert Stane moved up the counter, and began to give his order. The factor wrote it down without comment, glancing at his customer fromtime to time with shrewd appraising eyes, and when Stane had paid forthe goods which were to be ready before noon, he asked a question. 

"New to the district, aren't you?"

"I wintered here, " replied Stane briefly. 

"Then you did no trapping, " said the factor with a laugh, "or you'dhave brought your pelts in. I guess you must be prospecting?"

"I have done a little, " agreed Stane, a touch of reserve in his manner. 

"A lonely job!" commented the factor. 

"Yes, " was Stane's reply, then he nodded and turned towards the door. 

The factor watched him go with frowning eyes, then turned to hisassistant. 

"Not a very sociable sort, hey, Donald?"

The assistant grinned, and shook his head. "Tongue-tied, I guess. "

"I wonder where he has his location. "

"Somewhere North!" answered Donald. "He came upstream, I saw him. "

The factor said no more to him, but passed out of the store towards thewarehouse. As he did so he caught sight of Stane standing in the Squarewatching a canoe far out on the river. The factor's eyes were good andhe recognized the occupants of the craft quite easily, and as he sawStane's interest in them, the frown gathered about his eyes once more, and he muttered to himself:

"I wonder what Mr. Ainley's little game means?"

Then as he was unable to find any answer to his question he turnedagain to his own affairs. 

As for Hubert Stane he stood in the Square for quite a long timewatching for the return of the canoe, determined to have speech withAinley. Then, as it still lingered, he turned and made his way to hisown camp. 

It was quite late in the afternoon when the opportunity he sought wasgiven to him. Impelled by the merest curiosity he had strolled over tothe Indian tepees and had there encountered Miskodeed teaching apuppy-dog tricks. He had stopped to speak to her, and was still engagedin a rather one-sided conversation, when the sound of English voicescaused him to turn round. 

The governor's party, accompanied by the factor, was moving towards thetepees. His first impulse was to go away, then seeing Ainley among thelittle knot of people, he decided to remain, and to serve his own end, kept Miskodeed in conversation, as when left to herself she would havefled to the moose-hide tent. 

The party drew nearer. Stane was conscious of its attention, and theblood in Miskodeed's face came and went in a manner that was almostpainful. Any one looking at them, and noting the apparent absorption ofthe man and the certain embarrassment of the girl, must have utterlymiscomprehended the situation, and that was what happened, for a momentlater, the sound of a laughing feminine voice reached him. 

"Behold an idyll of the land!"

He looked up with an angry light in his blue eyes. The party was justpassing, and nearly every pair of eyes was regarding him curiously. Andone pair, the grey eyes of the girl who had been with Ainley, met hisin level glance, and in them he saw a flicker of contempt. That glancesent the blood to his face, and increased the anger which had surgedwithin him at the laughing remark he had overheard. Ainley was amongthese people, and come what might he would have speech with him beforethem all. He stepped forward determinedly; but Ainley, who had beenwatching him closely, anticipated his move by falling out of the group. 

"Don't be a fool, Stane! You'll do yourself no good by kicking up adust here. I couldn't come last night, but tonight at the same time Iwill not fail. "

He turned and moved on again before Stane could reply, and as he joinedthe English girl, the latter inquired in a surprised voice, "You knowthat gentleman, Mr. Ainley?"

Stane caught the question, but the answer he did not hear, though hecould guess its purport and found no pleasure at the thought of what itwould be. Consumed with wrath and shame he went his way to his owncamp, and seeking relief from intolerable thoughts busied himself withpreparations for a start on the morrow, then schooled himself to waitas best he could, through the long hours before Ainley's appointedtime. 

Again the midnight sun found him sitting behind his smoke-smudge, waiting, listening. All the songs and cries of the wild faded intosilence and still Ainley had not come. Then he caught the sound oflight feet running, and looking up he saw Miskodeed hurrying towardshim between the willows. Wondering what had brought her forth at thishour he started to his feet and in that instant he saw a swift look ofapprehension and agony leap to her face. 

"Beware, my brother----"

He heard no more. A man rose like a shadow by his side, with liftedhand holding an ax-shaft. Before he could move or cry out the shaftdescended on his uncovered head and he dropped like a man suddenlystricken dead. When he came to himself the rosy Northland night hadgiven place to rosier dawn, and he found that he was lying, bound handand foot, at the bottom of a Peterboro' canoe. There were three Indiansin the canoe, one of whom he recognized for Miskodeed's father, andafter lying for a few minutes wondering what was the meaning of thesituation in which he found himself he addressed himself to the Indian:

"What is the meaning of this?"

The Indian stared at him like a graven image, but vouchsafed no reply. Stane lay there wondering if it had anything to do with Miskodeed, andfinally, recalling the girl's dramatic appearance at the very momentwhen he had been stricken down, decided that it had. 

"What are you going to do with me?" he inquired after an interval. 

"Nothing, " replied the Indian. "At the end of five days thou wilt beset free, and the canoe follows behind. "

"But why----"

"It is an order, " said the Indian gravely, and beyond that Stane couldlearn nothing, though he tried repeatedly in the five days thatfollowed. 

At the end of the fifth day they pitched camp as usual, at the eveningmeal, and lay down to sleep, Stane tied hand and foot with buckskinthongs. In the morning, when he awoke, he was alone and his limbs werefree. Scarce believing the facts he sat up and looked around him. Unquestionably his captors had gone, taking the Peterboro' with them, but leaving his own canoe hauled up on the bank. Still overcome withastonishment he rose to his feet and inspected the contents of thecanoe. All the stores that he had purchased at the Post were thereintact, with his rifle, his little tent and camp utensils, so far as hecould tell, not a single article was missing. What on earth was themeaning of it all?

"Miskodeed!"

As he spoke the name the possibility that his acquaintance with thegirl had been misunderstood by her relations shot into his mind. But inthat case why had they dealt with him after this fashion? Then again heseemed to hear the Indian speaking. "It is an order!"

"Whose order?"

As his mind asked the question, he visioned Gerald Ainley, and wassuddenly conscious of a great anger. Was it possible that he----? Hebroke off the question in his mind without finishing it; but lifted hisclenched hand and shook it before the silent wilderness. His attitudewas full of dumb menace, and left in no doubt his belief as to who wasthe author of the event that had befallen him. 

CHAPTER III

A LOST GIRL

Mr. Gerald Ainley standing in the meadow outside the Post, lookedtowards the river bank with smiling eyes. Where Hubert Stane's littletent had been the willows now showed an unbroken line, and he foundthat fact a source of satisfaction. Then between the willows he caughtsight of a moving figure, and after one glance at it, began to hurryforward. A moment later the figure emerged from the willows and stoodon the edge of the meadow, revealing its identity as that of theEnglish girl with whom he had walked on the previous day. Withoutobserving him the girl turned round and began to walk towards theIndian encampment and Ainley immediately altered his course, walkingquickly so as to intercept her. He joined her about a score of pacesfrom the tents and smilingly doffed his cap. 

"Good morning, Miss Yardely. You are astir early. "

Helen Yardely laughed lightly. "It is impossible to do anything else inthis country, where it is daylight all the time, and birds are cryinghalf the night. Besides we are to make a start after breakfast. "

"Yes, I know; I'm going with you. "

"You are going with us, Mr. Ainley!" There was a little note ofsurprise in the girl's tones. "My uncle has not mentioned it!"

"No! It was only finally decided last night; though from the beginningof the excursion it has been contemplated. Sir James is making notes ofhis journey which I am to supplement. I believe he has an idea ofbringing out a book describing the journey!"

"Which you are to write, I suppose?" laughed the girl. 

"Well, " countered the man also laughing, "I am to act as amanuensis. And after all you know I am in the service of the Company, whosefortunes Sir James directs. "

"He may direct them, " answered the girl lightly, "but it is other menwho carry them--the men of the wilds who bring the furs to the posts, and the traders who live in isolation from year's end to year's end. You must not take my uncle quite so seriously as he takes himself, Mr. Ainley. "

Gerald Ainley smiled. "You forget, Miss Yardely, he can make or break aman who is in the Company's service. "

"Perhaps!" laughed the girl. "Though if I were a man I should not soeasily be made or broken by another. I should make myself and see thatnone broke me. " She paused as if waiting for an answer, then as hercompanion continued silent, abruptly changed the topic. "By the by, Isee that your acquaintance of other days has removed himself!"

"Yes, " answered Ainley, "I noticed that. "

"He must have gone in the night. "

"Yes, " was the reply. "I suppose he folded his tent like the Arabs andas silently stole away. "

"I daresay the meeting with an old acquaintance was distasteful tohim. "

"That is possible, " answered Ainley. "When a man has deliberatelyburied himself in this wild land he will hardly wish to beresurrected. "

"And yet he did not appear to avoid you yesterday?" said the girlthoughtfully. 

"A momentary impulse, I suppose, " replied her companion easily. "Idaresay he thought I might fraternise and forget the past. "

"And you couldn't?"

"Well, scarcely. One does not fraternise with gaol-birds even for oldtime's sake. "

They had now arrived at the tepees and as they halted, the flap of onewas thrown aside, and Miskodeed emerged. She did not see them, as themoment she stepped into the open air her eyes turned towards thewillows where Stane's camp had been. A look of sadness clouded the wildbeauty of her face, and there was a poignant light in her eyes. 

"Ah!" whispered Helen Yardely. "She knows that he has gone. "

"Perhaps it is just as well for her that he has, " answered Ainleycarelessly. "These marriages of the country are not always happy--forthe woman. "

Miskodeed caught the sound of his voice, and, turning suddenly, becameaware of their presence. In an instant a swift change came over herface. Its sadness vanished instantly, and as her eyes flashing fiercelyfixed themselves upon Ainley, a look of scorn came on her faceintensifying its bizarre beauty. She took a step forward as if shewould speak to the white man, then apparently changed her mind, andswinging abruptly on her heel, re-entered the tent. Helen Yardelyglanced swiftly at her companion, and surprised a look of somethingvery like consternation in his eyes. 

"That was very queer!" she said quickly. 

"What was very queer?" asked Ainley. 

"That girl's action. Did you see how she looked at you? She was goingto speak to you and changed her mind. "

Ainley laughed a trifle uneasily. "Possibly she blames me for thedisappearance of her lover!"

"But why should she do that? She can hardly know of your previousacquaintance with him. "

"You forget--she saw him speak to me yesterday!"

"Ah yes, " was the girl's reply. "I had forgotten that. " The notes of abugle, clear and silvery in the still air, floated across the meadow atthat moment, and Gerald Ainley laughed. 

"The breakfast bell! We must hurry, Miss Yardely. It will scarcely doto keep your uncle waiting. "

They turned and hurried back to the Post, nothing more being said inreference to Miskodeed and Hubert Stane. And an hour later, in thebustle of the departure, the whole matter was brushed aside by HelenYardely, though now and again through the day, it recurred to her mindas a rather unpleasant episode; and she found herself wondering how sofine a man as Stane could stoop to the folly of which many men in theNorth were guilty. 

At the end of that day her uncle ordered the camp to be pitched on alittle meadow backed by a sombre forest of spruce. And after theevening meal, in company with Gerald Ainley, she walked towards thetimber where an owl was hooting dismally. The air was perfectly still, the sky above crystal clear, and the Northern horizon filled with agolden glow. As they reached the shadow of the spruce, and seatedthemselves on a fallen trunk, a fox barked somewhere in the recess ofthe wood, and from afar came the long-drawn melancholy howl of a wolf. Helen Yardely looked down the long reach of the river and her eyesfixed themselves on a tall bluff crowned with spruce, distant perhaps amile and a half away. 

"I like the Wild, " she said suddenly, breaking the silence that hadbeen between them. 

"It is all right, " laughed Ainley, "when you can journey through itcomfortably as we are doing. "

"It must have its attractions even when comfort is not possible, " saidthe girl musingly, "for the men who live here live as nature meant manto live. "

"On straight moose-meat--sometimes, " laughed Ainley. "With bacon andbeans and flour brought in from the outside for luxuries. "

"I was not thinking of the food, " answered the girl quickly. "I wasthinking of the toil, the hardship--the Homeric labours of those whoface the hazards of the North. "

"Yes, " agreed the man, "the labours are certainly Homeric, and thereare men who like the life well enough, who have made fortunes here andhave gone back to their kind in Montreal, New York, London, only tofind that civilization has lost its attraction for them. "

"I can understand that, " was the quick reply. "There is something inthe silence and wildness of vast spaces which gets into the blood. Onlyyesterday I was thinking how small and tame the lawns at home wouldlook after this. " She swept a hand in a half-circle, and then gave alittle laugh. "I believe I could enjoy living up here. "

Ainley laughed with her. "A year of this, " he said, lightly, "and youwould begin to hunger for parties and theatres and dances andbooks--and you would look to the Southland as to Eden. "

"Do you really think so?" she asked seriously. 

"I am sure of it, " he answered with conviction. 

"But I am not so sure, " she answered slowly. "Deep down there must besomething aboriginal in me, for I find myself thrilling to all sorts ofwild things. Last night I was talking with Mrs. Rodwell. Her husbandused to be the trader up at Kootlach, and she was telling me of a whiteman who lived up there as a chief. He was a man of education, agraduate of Oxford and he preferred that life to the life ofcivilization. It seems he died, and was buried as a chief, wrapped infurs, a hunting spear by his side, all the tribe chanting a wildfuneral chant! Do you know, as she described it, the dark woods, thebarbaric burying, the wild chant, I was able to vision it all--and mysympathies were with the man, who, in spite of Oxford, had chosen tolive his own life in his own way. "

Ainley laughed. "You see it in the glamour of romance, " he said. "Thereality I imagine was pretty beastly. "

"Well!" replied the girl quickly. "What would life be without romance?"

"A dull thing, " answered Ainley, promptly, with a sudden flash of theeyes. "I am with you there, Miss Yardely, but romance does not lie inmere barbarism, for most men it is incarnated in a woman. "

"Possibly! I suppose the mating instinct is the one elemental thingleft in the modern world. "

"It is the one dominant thing, " answered Ainley, with such emphasis ofconviction that the girl looked at him in quick surprise. 

"Why, Mr. Ainley, one would think that you--that you----" shehesitated, stumbled in her speech, and did not finish the sentence. Hercompanion had risen suddenly to his feet. The monocle had fallen fromits place, and he was looking down at her with eyes that had a strangeglitter. 

"Yes, " he cried, answering her unfinished utterance. "Yes! I do know. That is what you would say, is it not? I have known since the day SirJames sent me to the station at Ottawa to meet you. The knowledge wasborn in me as I saw you stepping from the car. The one woman--my heartwhispered it in that moment, and has shouted it ever since. Helen, Idid not mean to speak yet, but--well, you see how it is with me! Tellme it is not altogether hopeless! You know what my position is; youknow that in two years----"

Helen Yardely rose swiftly to her feet. Her beautiful face had paled alittle. She stopped the flood of words with her lifted hand. 

"Please, Mr. Ainley! There is no need to enter on such details. "

"Then----"

"You have taken me by surprise, " said the girl slowly. "I had no ideathat you--that you--I have never thought of it. "

"But you can think now, Helen, " he said urgently. "I mean every wordthat I have said. I love you. You must see that--now. Let us join ourlives together, and together find the romance for which you crave. "

The blood was back in the girl's cheeks now, running in rosy tides, andthere was a light in her grey eyes that made Ainley's pulse leap withhope, since he mistook it for something else. His passion was realenough, as the girl felt, and she was simple and elemental enough to bethrilled by it; but she was sufficiently wise not to mistake theresponse in herself for the greater thing. The grey eyes lookedsteadily into his for a moment, then a thoughtful look crept into them, and Ainley knew that for the moment he had lost. 

"No, " she said slowly, "no, I am not sure that would be wise. I do notfeel as I ought to feel in taking such a decision as that. Andbesides----"

"Yes?" he said, urgently, as she paused. "Yes?"

"Well, " she flushed a little, and her tongue stumbled among the words, "you are not quite the man--that I--that I have thoughtof--for--for----. " She broke off again, laughed a little at herself andthen blurted confusedly: "You see all my life, from being a very littlegirl, I have worshipped heroes. "

"And I am not a hero, " said Ainley with a harsh laugh. "No! I am justthe ordinary man doing the ordinary things, and my one claim to noticeis that I love you! But suppose the occasion came? Suppose I----. " Hebroke off and stood looking at her for a moment. Then he asked, "Wouldthat make no difference?"

"It might, " replied the girl, the shrinking from the infliction of toosevere a blow. 

"Then I live for that occasion!" cried Ainley. "And who knows? In thiswild land it may come any hour!"

As a matter of fact the occasion offered itself six days later--aSunday, when Sir James Yardely had insisted on a day's rest. Thevarious members of the party were employing their leisure according totheir inclinations, and Ainley had gone after birds for the pot, whilstHelen Yardely, taking a small canoe, had paddled down stream to explorea creek where, according to one of the Indians, a colony of beavers hadestablished itself. 

When Ainley returned with a couple of brace of wood partridges it wasto find that the girl was still absent from the camp. The day wore ontowards evening and still the girl had not returned, and her unclebecame anxious, as did others of the party. 

"Some one had better go to look for her, Ainley, " said Sir James. "Igather that a mile or two down the river the current quickens, and thatthere are a number of islands where an inexpert canoeist may come togrief. I should never forgive myself if anything has happened to myniece. "

"I will go myself, Sir James, and I will not return without her. "

"Oh, I don't suppose anything very serious has happened, " replied SirJames, with an uneasy laugh, "but it is just as well to takeprecautions. "

"Yes, Sir James! I will go at once and take one of the Indians withme--one who knows the river. And it may be as well to send upstreamalso, as Miss Yardely may have changed her mind and taken thatdirection. "

"Possibly so!" answered Sir James, turning away to give the necessaryorders. 

Gerald Ainley called one of the Indians to him, and ordered him to putthree days' supply of food into the canoe, blankets and a small foldingtent, and was just preparing to depart when Sir James drew near, andstared with evident surprise at the load in the canoe. 

"Why, Gerald, " he said, "you seem to have made preparations for a longsearch. "

"That is only wise, Sir James. This river runs for sixty miles beforeit falls into the main river, and sixty miles will take a good deal ofsearching. If the search is a short one, and the food not needed, theburden of it will matter little; on the other hand----"

"In God's name go, boy--and bring Helen back!"

"I will do my best, Sir James. "

The canoe pushed off, leaping forward under the combined propulsion ofthe paddles and the current, and sweeping round a tall bluff was soonout of sight of the camp. 

The Indian in the bow of the canoe, after a little time, set the courseslantingly across the current, making for the other side, and Ainleyasked a sharp question. The Indian replied over his shoulder. 

"The white Klootchman go to see the beaver! Beaver there!"

He jerked his head towards a creek now opening out on the furthershore, and a look of impatience came on Ainley's face. He said nothinghowever, though to any one observing him closely it must have beenabundantly clear that he had no expectation of finding the missing girlat the place which the Indian indicated. As a matter of fact they didnot. Turning into the creek they presently caught sounds that were newto Ainley, and he asked a question. 

"It is the beavers. They smite the water with their tails!"

Two minutes later they came in sight of the dam and in the same momentthe Indian turned the canoe towards a soft bar of sand. A few secondslater, having landed, he pointed to the sand. A canoe had been beachedthere, and plain as the footprints which startled Crusoe, were themarks of moccasined feet going from and returning to the sand bar. 

"White Klootchman been here!" said the Indian. "She go away. No goodgoing to the beaver. "

He turned to the canoe again, and Gerald Ainley turned with him, without a word in reply. There was no sign of disappointment on hisface, nor when they struck the main current again did he even glance atthe shore on either side. But seven miles further down, when thecurrent visibly quickened, and a series of small spruce-clad islandsbegan to come in view, standing out of the water for all the world likeships in battle line, a look of interest came on his face, and he beganto look alertly in front of him and from side to side, all hisdemeanour betraying expectation. 

CHAPTER IV

A PIECE OF WRECKAGE

The canoe drew near the first of the islands and the Indian directed itinshore and in a quiet bay as the canoe floated quietly out of thecurrent, they lifted up their voices and shouted again and again. Except for the swirl of the waters everything was perfectly still, andany one on the island must have heard the shouting; but there came noresponse. 

"No good!" said the Indian, and turned the bow of the canoe to theriver once more. 

Island after island they inspected and hailed; meanwhile keeping asharp look out on either side of the river, but in vain. They werehoarse with shouting when the last of the islands was reached, and onAinley's face a look of anxiety manifested itself. Landing at the tailof the island the Indian hunted around until he found a dry branch, andthis he threw into the water and stood to watch its course as it wentdown river. The drift of it seemed to be towards a bar on the easternbank, and towards that, distant perhaps a couple of miles, the courseof their canoe was directed. When they reached it, again the Indianlanded, and began to inspect the flotsam on the edge of the bankclosely. Ainley watched him with apprehension. Presently the Indianstooped, and after two or three attempts fished something from thewater. He looked at it keenly for a moment, then he gave a shout, andbegan to walk along the bar towards the canoe. 

As he came nearer, the white man saw that the object he carried was thespoon end of a paddle. When close at hand the Indian held it out forhis inspection. 

"Him broke, " he said in English. "And the break quite fresh. "

There was no question as to that. Notwithstanding that the paddle hadbeen in the water, the clean wood of the fracture showed quite plainly, and whilst Ainley was looking at it the Indian stretched a finger andpointed to a semi-circular groove which ran across the broken end. 

"Him shot!" he announced quite calmly. 

"Are you sure?" asked Ainley, betraying no particular surprise. 

The Indian nodded his head gravely, and fitted his little finger in thegroove. 

"Bullet-mark!"

Ainley did not dispute the contention, nor apparently was he greatlytroubled by the Indian's contention. He looked round a littleanxiously. 

"But where is the canoe?" he asked. "And Miss Yardely?"

The Indian waved a hand down river. "Canoe miss this bar, and go in thecurrent like hell to the meeting of the waters. Better we keep straighton and watch out. "

As they started down river again, Ainley's face took on a settled lookof anxiety. It was now close on midnight, but very light, and on eitherbank everything could be clearly seen. They kept a sharp look out, butfound no further trace of the missing canoe, and the early dawn foundthem in a quickening current, racing for the point where the tributaryriver joined the main stream. 

Presently it came in sight, and between walls of spruce and a foamingcrest of water they swept into the broader river, which rolled itsturbid way towards its outfall in one of the great Northern lakes. Thecanoe pranced like a frightened horse at the meeting of the waters, andwhen they were safely through it, Ainley looked back and questioned hiscompanion. 

"Would Miss Yardely's canoe come through that?"

"Like a dry stick, " answered the Indian, letting the canoe drift for amoment in order to swing into the main current of the broader stream. 

Ainley looked ahead. Downstream the river narrowed and the low broadbanks about them gradually rose, until they were like high ramparts oneither hand. The Indian pointed towards the tree-crowned cliffs. 

"No good there, " he said. "We land here, and make grub; walk down andsee what water like. "

It seemed to Ainley the only sensible thing to do, and he did notdemur. Accordingly, the Indian, seeing a favourable beach, turned thecanoe inshore, and whilst his companion was preparing breakfast, thewhite man walked downstream towards the ramparts of rocks through whichthe river ran. When he reached them he looked down at the water. It ransmooth and glassy and swift, whirling against the rocky sides a goodfoot higher than between the earthen banks upstream. He followed thegorge, forgetting that he was tired, forgetting the preparingbreakfast, a look of extreme anxiety upon his face. Three-quarters ofan hour's walking brought him to the end of the gorge, and for a mileor two the country opened out once more, the river running wide betweenlow-lying banks to disappear in the lee of a range of hills above whichhung a veil of mist. He stood regarding the scene for a few minutes andthen, the anxiety on his face more pronounced than ever, made his wayback to the place where the Indian awaited him. The Indian had alreadyeaten, and whilst he himself breakfasted he told him what he had seen. The native listened carefully, and in the end replied in his ownlanguage. 

"Good! We go through the cliffs, in place of making the portage. It isthe swifter way, and if the white Klootchman come this way, she hasgone through these gates of the waters. We follow, but not very far, for again we come to the hills, and to a place where the earth is rent, and the waters fall down a wall that is higher than the highest spruce. If the Klootchman's canoe go there--it is the end. "

Falls! So that was the meaning of that mist among the hills. There theriver plunged into a chasm, and if Helen Yardely's canoe had been swepton in the current it was indeed the end. Ainley's anxiety mounted topositive fear. He pushed from him the fried deer-meat and bacon whichthe other had prepared for him, and rose suddenly to his feet. 

"Let us be going!" he said sharply, and walked restlessly to and frowhilst his companion broke camp. A few minutes later they were afloatagain, and after a little time there was no need to paddle. The currentcaught them and flung them towards the limestone gateway at expressspeed. In an amazingly short time they had passed through the gorge, and were watching the banks open out on either side of them. 

There was no sign of life anywhere, no indication that any one hadpassed that way since time began. As they sped onward a peculiar throband rumble began to make itself heard. It increased as they neared therange of hills towards which they were making, and as the banks beganto grow rocky, and the water ahead broken by boulders, the Indianlooked for a good place to land. 

He found it on the lee side of a bluff where an eddy had scooped alittle bay in the steep bank, and turning the canoe inside it, theystepped ashore. Making the canoe secure they climbed to the top of thebank and began to push their way down stream. The rapids, as Ainleynoted, grew worse. Everywhere the rocks stood up like teeth tearing thewater to tatters, and the rumble ahead grew more pronounced. Standingstill for a moment, they felt the earth trembling beneath their feet, and the white man's face paled with apprehension. A tangle of sprucehid the view of the river as it skirted a big rock, and as the riverevidently made a swerve at this point, they struck a bee-line throughthe timber. The rumble, of which they had long been conscious, of thesuddenest seemed to become a roar, and, as they came to an open placewhere they could see the water again, they understood the reason. 

The river but a few feet below them, bordered by shelving terraces ofrock, suddenly disappeared. Rolling glassily for perhaps fifty yards, with scarce a ripple on its surface, the water seemed to gather itselftogether, and leap into a gorge, the bottom of which was ninety feetbelow. Ainley stood looking at the long cascade for a full minute, awild light in his eyes, then he looked long and steadily at the gorgethrough which the river ran after its great leap. His face was whiteand grim, and his mouth was quivering painfully. 

Then without a word he turned and began to hurry along the line of thegorge. The Indian strode after him. 

"Where go to?" he asked. 

"The end of the gorge, " was the brief reply. 

The Indian nodded, and then looked back. "If canoe can go over there itsmash to small bits. "

"Oh, I know it, don't I?" cried Ainley savagely. "Hold your tongue, can't you?"

An hour's wild walking brought them to the end of the gorge, andlooking down the rather steep face of the hill, to the widening river, the white man carefully surveyed the banks. After a time he found whathe was looking for--a pile of debris heaped against a bluff, whose hardrock resisted the action of the water. It was about a quarter of a mileaway and on the same bank of the river as himself. Still in silence hebegan to drop down the face of the hill, and sometimes climbing overmoss-grown rocks, sometimes wading waist-high in the river itself, hemade his way to the heap of debris. It was the drift-pile made by theriver, which at this point cast out from its bosom logs and trees andall manner of debris brought over the falls and down the gorge, a greatheap piled in inextricable confusion as high as a tall fir tree, and asbroad as a church. 

Feverishly, Gerald Ainley began to wade round its wide base; and theIndian also joined in the search, poking among the drift-logs andoccasionally tumbling one aside. Then the Indian gave a sharp grunt, and out of the pile dragged a piece of wreckage that was obviously partof the side and bow of a canoe. He shouted to Ainley, who hurriedscramblingly over a heap of the obstructing logs, and who, after onelook at that which the Indian had retrieved, stood there shaking likewind-stricken corn; his face white and ghastly, his eyes full of agony. The Indian put a brown finger on a symbol painted on the bows, with theletters H. B. C. Beneath. Both of them recognized the piece of wreckageas belonging to the canoe in which Helen Yardely had left the camp, andthe Indian, with a glance at the gorge which had vomited the wreckage, gave emphatic utterance to his belief. 

"All gone. "

Gerald Ainley made no reply. He had no doubt that what the Indian saidwas true, and the truth was terrible enough. Turning away he began anewto search the drift-pile, looking now for the body of a dead girl, though with but little hope of finding it. For an hour he searched invain, then began to scramble down river, searching the bank. A milebelow the first drift-pile he came upon a second, caught by a sand-bar, that, thrusting itself out in the water, snared the smaller debris. This also he searched diligently, with no result; and after wandering alittle further down the river without finding anything, returned towhere the Indian awaited him. 

"We will go back, " he said, and these were the only words he spokeuntil they reached their canoe again. 

The Indian cooked a meal, of which Ainley partook with but little carefor what he was eating, his eyes fixed on the ochre-coloured water asit swept by, his face the index of unfathomable thoughts. After themeal they began to track their canoe upstream, until they reached waterwhere it would be possible to paddle, one of them towing with a line, and the other working hard with the paddle to keep the canoe's nosefrom the bank. A little way before they reached the limestone rampartsthrough which they had swept at such speed a few hours before, theIndian, who was at the towline, stopped and indicated that they mustmake a portage over the gorge, since the configuration of the cliffsmade it impossible to tow the canoe through. In this task, a very hardone, necessitating two journeys, one with the canoe and one with thestores, they were occupied the remainder of the day, and when theypitched camp again and had eaten the evening meal, the Indian promptlyfell asleep. 

But there was no sleep for Gerald Ainley. He sat there staring at thewater rushing by, reflecting the crimson flare of the Northern night. And it was not crimson that he saw it, but ochre-coloured as he hadseen it earlier in the day, hurrying towards the rapids below, and tothat ninety-foot leap into the gorge. And all the time, in vision, hesaw a canoe swept on the brown flood, a canoe in which crouched achestnut-haired girl, her grey eyes wide with fear; her handshelplessly clasped, as she stared ahead, whilst the canoe danced andleaped in the quickening waters hurrying towards the ramparts below, which for aught she knew might well be the gates of death. 

Sometimes the vision changed, and he saw the canoe in the rapids belowthe ramparts, and waited in agony for it to strike one of the uglyteeth of rock. Again and again it seemed that it must, but always thecurrent swept it clear, and it moved on at an increasing pace, swept inthat quick mill-race immediately above the falls. On the very edge hesaw it pause for a brief fraction of time and then the water flung itand the white-faced girl into the depths beneath, and he saw themfalling, falling through the clouds of spray, the girl's dying cryringing through the thunder of the waters. He cried out in suddenagony. 

"My God! No!"

Then at the sound of his own cry, the vision left him for a time, andhe saw the river as it was, rosy in the light of the midnight sun. Asound behind him caused him to turn round. The Indian, awakened by hiscry of anguish, had sat up and was staring at him in an odd way. 

"It is all right, Joe, " he said, and with a grunt the Indian lay downto sleep again. 

Ainley could not remain where he was to become again the prey ofterrible imaginations. Rising to his feet, he stumbled out of the camp, and began to walk restlessly along the bank of the river. He wasbody-tired, but his mind was active with an activity that was almostfeverish. Try as he would he could not shut out the visions whichhaunted him, and as fast as he dismissed one, a new one was conjuredup. Now, as already shown, it was the canoe with the girl dancing todestruction, now that final leap; then again it was that broken pieceof flotsam by the drift-pile at the end of the gorge; and later, insome still reach far down the river, a dead girl, white-faced, butpeaceful, like drowned Ophelia. 

He walked far without knowing it, driven by the secret agonies within, and all the time conscious that he could not escape from them. Thenthat befell which put a term to these agonizing imaginings. As hewalked he came suddenly on the ashes of a camp fire. For a moment hestared at it uncomprehendingly. Then his interest quickened, as thestate of the ashes showed some one had camped at this place quiterecently. He began to look about him carefully, walking down theshelving bank to the edge of the river. At that point there was astratum of soft clay, which took and preserved the impression ofeverything of weight which rested upon it; and instantly he perceived anumber of footmarks about a spot where a canoe had been beached twice. 

Stooping he examined the footmarks minutely. There was quite a jumbleof them, mostly made by a long and broad moccasined foot, which wascertainly that of a man; but in the jumble he found the print ofsmaller feet, which must have been made by a youth or girl. A quickhope kindled in his heart as he began to trace these prints among theothers. He had little of the craft of the wilds, but one thing quicklyarrested his attention--the smaller footprints all pointed one way andthat was down the bank towards the water. Now why should that be? Hadthe person who had made those footprints not been in the canoe when theowner had landed to pitch camp? And if such were the case, and themaker of them was indeed a woman, what was she doing here, alone in thewilderness?

Had Helen Yardely been saved by some fortunate chance, and wanderingalong the river bank, stumbled on the camp of some prospector ortrapper making his way to the wild North? His mind clutched at this newhope, eagerly. Hurriedly he climbed the sticky bank and beganfeverishly to search for any sign that could help him. Then suddenlythe hope became a certainty, for in the rough grass he saw somethinggleam, and stooping to recover it, found that it was a small enamelledSwastiki brooch similar to one which he had seen three days before atMiss Yardely's throat. 

As he saw this he gave a shout of joy, and a moment later was hurryingback along the bank to his own encampment. As he went, almost at a run, his mind was busy with the discovery he had made. There were otherbrooches in the world like this, thousands of them no doubt, but therewere few if any at all in this wild Northland, and not for a singlemoment did he question that this was the one that Miss Yardely hadworn. And if he were right, then the girl was safe, and no doubt wasalready on her way back to her uncle's camp in the care of whatever manhad found her. 

Excitedly he broke on the slumbers of his Indian companion, and aftershowing him the brooch, bade him accompany him to the place where hehad found it, and there pointed to the footmarks on the river bank. 

"Can you read the meaning of those signs?"

The Indian studied them as a white man would a cryptogram, andpresently he stood up, and spoke with the slow gravity of his race. 

"The Klootchman she came from the river. The man he carry her from thewater in his arms. "

"How do you know that, Joe?"

The Indian pointed to certain footprints which were much more deeplymarked than the others. 

"The man he carry heavy weight when he make these, and the Klootchmanshe weigh, how much? One hundred and ten pounds, sure. He not carrythat weight back to the canoe, because the Klootchman she walk. " Hepointed again, this time to the smaller footprints, and to Ainley, reading the signs through the Indian's eyes, the explanation amountedto a demonstration. 

"Yes, yes, I understand, " he cried, "but in that case where is she?"

The Indian looked up and down the river, then waved a hand upstream. "The man he take her back to camp. "

"Then why did we not meet them as we came down?"

A puzzled expression came on the Indian's face. For a moment he stoodconsidering the problem, then he shook his head gravely. 

"I not know. "

"We must get back to the camp at once, Joe. We must find out if MissYardely has returned. We know now that she is alive, and at all costswe must find her. We will start at once for there is no time to lose. "

He turned on his heel and led the way back to the canoe, and half anhour later they were paddling upstream towards the junction of therivers, the Indian grave and imperturbable; Ainley with a puzzled, anxious look upon his handsome face. 

CHAPTER V

A BRAVE RESCUE

When Hubert Stane took stock of his position, after his captors hadleft him, he found himself in a country which was strange to him, andspent the best part of a day in ascertaining his whereabouts. The flowof the wide river where the camp had been pitched told him nothing, andit was only after he had climbed a high hill a mile and a half awayfrom the river that he began to have any indication of his whereabouts. Then with the country lying before him in a bird's-eye view he was ableto learn his position. There was more than one river in view, and achain of small lakes lay between one of them and the river where he hadbeen left by his captors. From the last of those lakes a long portage, such as had been made on the last day but one of the journey, wouldbring them to a river which a few miles away joined the river on thebank of which he had been left to shift for himself. Studying thedisposition of the country carefully, he reached the conclusion that bya roundabout journey he had been brought to the river on the upperreaches of which he had his permanent camp; and as the conviction grewupon him, he made his way back to the canoe, and began to work his wayupstream. 

As he paddled, the problem of his deportation exercised his mind; andnowhere could he find any explanation of it, unless it had to do withMiskodeed. But that explanation failed as he recalled the words of herfather: "It is an order. " Who had given the order? He thought in turnof the factor, of Sir James Yardely, of Gerald Ainley. The first twowere instantly dismissed, but the thought of Ainley remained fermentingin his mind. It was an odd coincidence that he should have beenattacked whilst awaiting Ainley's coming, and in view of his one-timefriend's obvious reluctance to an interview and of his own urgentreasons for desiring it; the suspicion that Ainley was the man who hadissued the order for his forcible deportation grew until it becamealmost a conviction. 

"I will find out about this--and the other thing, " he said aloud. "Ican't go back now, but sooner or later my chance will come. The cur!"

That evening he camped at the foot of a fall, which he had heard of, but never before seen, and spent the whole of the next day in portaginghis belongings to navigable water, and on the following evening wellbeyond the rocky ramparts, where the river ran so swiftly, made hiscamp, happily conscious that now the river presented no barrier for twohundred miles. 

As he sat smoking outside his little tent, an absent, thoughtful lookupon his face, his eyes fixed dreamily on the river, his mind revertedonce more to the problem of recent happenings, and as he considered it, there came to him the picture of Miskodeed as he had seen her runningtowards him between the willows just before the blow which had knockedhim unconscious. She had cried to him to put him on his guard, and theapprehension in her face as he remembered it told him that she knew ofthe ill that was to befall him. His mind dwelt on her for a moment ashe visioned her face with its bronze beauty, her dark, wild eyesflashing with apprehension for him, and as he did so his own eyessoftened a little. He recalled the directness of her speech in theirfirst conversation and smiled at the naďveté of her estimate ofhimself. Then the smile died, leaving the absent, thoughtful look morepronounced, and in the same moment the vision of Miskodeed wasobliterated by the vision of Helen Yardely--the woman of his own race, fair and softly-strong, and as different as well as could be from thedaughter of the wilds. 

Again, as he recalled the steady scrutinizing glance of her grey eyes, he felt the blood rioting in his heart, and for a moment his eyes werealight with dreams. Then he laughed in sudden bitterness. 

"What a confounded fool I am!" he said. "A discharged convict----"

The utterance was suddenly checked; and an interested look came on hisface. There was something coming down the river. He rose quickly to hisfeet in order to get a better view of the object which had suddenlyfloated into his line of vision. It was a canoe. It appeared to beempty, and thinking it was a derelict drifting from some camp up river, he threw himself down again, for even if he salved it, it could be ofno possible use to him. Lying there he watched it as it drifted nearerin the current, wondering idly whence it had come. Nearer it came, swung this way and that by various eddies, and drifting towards thefurther side of the river where about forty yards above his camp a massof rock broke the smooth surface of the water. He wondered whether thecurrent would swing it clear; and now watched it with interest since hehad once heard a river-man declare that anything that surrendereditself completely to a current would clear obstructions. He had notbelieved the theory at the time, and now before his eyes it wasdisproved; for the derelict swung straight towards the rocks, thentwisted half-way round as it was caught by some swirl, and struck asharp piece of rock broadside on. 

Then happened a totally unexpected thing. As the canoe struck, a girlwho had been lying at the bottom, raised herself suddenly, and staredat the water overside, one hand clutching the gunwale. A second laterthe canoe drifted against another rock and suddenly tilted, throwingthe girl into the broken water. 

By this time, taken by surprise though he was, Stane was on his feet, and running down the bank. He did not stop to launch his canoe but justas he was flung himself into the water, and started to swim across theriver, drifting a little with the current, striving to reach a pointwhere he could intercept the girl as she drifted down. It was no lighttask he had set himself, for the current was strong, and carried himfurther than he intended to go, but he was in front of the piece ofhuman flotsam which the river was claiming for its prey, and as it camenearer he stretched a hand and grasped at it. He caught a handful ofchestnut hair that floated like long weed in the river's tide, and thenext moment turned the girl over on her back. She was unconscious, butas he glimpsed at her face, his heart leaped, for it was the face ofthat fair English girl of whom but a few minutes before he had beendreaming. For a second he was overcome with amazement, then stark fearleapt in his heart as he looked at the closed eyes and the white, unconscious face. 

That fear shook him from his momentary inactivity. He looked forsomething else to hold by, and finding nothing, twisted the long strandof hair he had gripped into a rope, and held it with his teeth. Then heglanced round. The current had carried him further than he hadrealized, and now quickened for its rush between the rocky ramparts, sothat there was some danger of their being caught and swept through. Ashe realized that, he began to exert all his strength, striking acrossthe current for the nearest bank, which was the one furthest from hiscamp. 

The struggle was severe, and the girl's body drifting against himimpeded his movements terribly. It seemed impossible that he could makethe bank, and the ramparts frowned ominously ahead. He was alreadywondering what the chances were of making the passage through insafety, and was half-inclined to surrender to the current and take therisks ahead, when his eye caught that which spurred him to freshefforts. 

A hundred yards downstream a huge tree, by some collapse of the bank, had been flung from the position where it had grown for perhaps ahundred years, and now lay with its crown and three-quarters of itstrunk in the river. Its roots, heavily laden with earth, still clung tothe bank and fought with the river for its prey. If he could reach thatStane realized that he might yet avoid the perilous passage between thebastions of rock. He redoubled his efforts against the quickeningcurrent, and by supreme exertions pulled himself into a position wherethe current must carry him and the girl against the tree. 

In a moment, as it seemed, they had reached it, and now holding thegirl's hair firmly in one hand, with the other he clutched at one ofthe branches. He caught it, and the next moment was unexpectedly duckedoverhead in the icy water. He came up gasping, and then understood. Thetree was what in the voyageur's nomenclature is known as a "sweeper. "Still held by its roots it bobbed up and down with the current, and theextra strain of his weight and the girl's had sunk it deeper in thewater. It still moved up and down, and he had not finished splutteringwhen a new danger asserted itself. The suck of the current under thetree was tremendous. It seemed to Stane as if a thousand malevolenthands were conspiring to drag him under; and all the time he was afraidlest the unconscious girl should be entangled among the submergedbranches. 

Lying on his back holding the bough that he had caught, at the sametime steadying himself with a foot against another branch, he swiftlyconsidered the situation. 

It was impossible that he could pull himself on to the trunk from theupper side. Even had he been unhampered by the unconscious girl thatwould have been difficult, the suck of the current under the tree beingso great. He would have to get to the other side somehow. To do thatthere were new risks to be taken. He would have to let loose the branchwhich he held, drift through the other interlacing branches, and get ahold on the further side of the trunk. 

It was risky, and beyond was the water swirling for its race betweenthe bastions. But he could do nothing where he was and, setting histeeth, he let go his hold. In a second, as it seemed, the tree leapedlike a horse and the water swept him and the girl under the trunk. Scarcely were they under when his free arm shot out and flung itselfround a fresh bough which floated level with the water. Immediately thebough bobbed under, but he was prepared for that, and after a briefrest, he set the girl's hair between his teeth once more, and with bothhands free began to work from bough to bough. One that he clutched gavean ominous crack. It began to sag in a dangerous way, and at the forkwhere it joined a larger branch a white slit appeared and began to growwider. He watched it growing, his eyes quite steady, his mind alert forthe emergency that it seemed must arrive, but the branch held for thespace of time that he needed it; and it was with heartfelt relief thathe grasped a larger bough, and the next moment touched bottom with hisfeet. 

At that he shifted his hold on the girl, towing her by a portion of herdress, and two minutes later, lifted her beyond the water-line on thehigh shelving bank. Then, as he looked in her white face and marked theashen lips, a panic of fear fell on him. Dropping to his knees he tookher wrist in his hand and felt for her pulse. At first he thought thatshe was dead, then very faint and slow he caught the beat of it. Thenext moment he had her in his arms and was scrambling up the bank. 

At the top he had the good fortune to stumble on a trail that wasevidently used by Indians or other dwellers in the wilderness, probablyby men portaging the length of bad water down the river. It was a roughenough path, yet it made his task immeasurably easier. But even withits unexpected aid, the journey was a difficult one, and he staggeredwith exhaustion when he laid the girl down upon the rough grass at apoint not quite opposite his own camp. 

Gasping he stood looking at her until he had recovered his breath, thegirl unconscious of his gaze; then when he felt equal to the task, heplunged again into the river and swam to his own camp. A few minuteslater he returned in his canoe, carrying with him a field water-bottlefilled with medical brandy. 

The girl lay as he had left her, and his first action was to pour a fewdrops of brandy between her parted lips, and that done he waited, chafing her hands. A minute later the long-lashed eyelids fluttered andopened, and the grey eyes looked wildly round without seeing him, thenclosed again and a long sigh came from her as she lapsed intounconsciousness anew. At that he wasted no more time. Lifting her, hecarried her down to the canoe, and paddling across the river, bore herup to his own camp, and laid her down where the heat of the fire wouldreach her, then he administered further brandy and once more waited. 

Again the eyelids fluttered and opened, and the girl looked round withwild, uncomprehending gaze, then her eyes grew steady, and a momentlater fixed themselves upon Stane. He waited, saw wonder light them, then, in a voice that shook, the girl asked: "How did--I--come here?"

"That you know best yourself, " answered the young man, cheerfully. "Ifished you out of the river, that is all I know. " The girl made as ifto reply; but Stane prevented her. 

"No, don't try to talk for a little while. Wait! Take a little more ofthis brandy. "

He held it towards her in a tin cup, and with his hand supporting herhead, the girl slowly sipped it. By the time she had finished, a littleblood was running in her cheeks and her lips were losing their ashencolour. She moved and made as though to sit up. 

"Better wait a little longer, " he said, quietly. 

"No, " she said, "I feel better. "

She lifted herself into a sitting posture, and he thoughtfully rolled asmall sack of beans to support her back, then she looked at him with aquick questioning gaze. 

"I have seen you before, have I not? You are the man who was at FortMalsun, aren't you--the man whom Mr. Ainley used to know?"

"Yes, " he answered with sudden bitterness, "I am the man whom Ainleyused to know. My name is Hubert Stane, and I am a discharged convict, as I daresay he told you. "

The sudden access of colour in Helen Yardely's face, and the look inher eyes, told him that he had guessed correctly, but the girl did notanswer the implied question. Instead she looked at the river andshuddered. 

"You--fished me out, " she said, her eyes on the rocks across the river. "Was it there the canoe overturned?"

"Yes, " he answered, "you struck the rocks. "

"I must have been dozing, " she replied. "I remember waking and seeingwater pouring into the canoe, and the next moment I was in the river. You saw me, I suppose?"

Stane nodded. "I was sitting here and saw the canoe coming down theriver. I thought it was empty until it struck the rocks and yousuddenly sat up. "

"And then you came after me?"

"Yes, " he answered lightly. 

Her grey eyes looked at him carefully, noted his dripping clothes anddank hair, and then with sudden comprehension asked: "How did you getme? Did you do it with your canoe or----"

"The canoe wouldn't have been any use, " he interrupted brusquely. "Itwould have upset if I had tried to get you out of the water into it. "

"Then you swam for me?" persisted the girl. 

"Had to, " he answered carelessly. "Couldn't let you drown before myeyes--even if I am a convict!"

Helen Yardely flushed a little. "I do not think you need mention thatagain. I am very grateful to a brave man. "

"Oh, as to that----" he began; but she interrupted him. 

"Tell me where you got me? I remember nothing about it. "

He looked down the river. 

"As near as I can tell you, it was by that clump of firs there; thoughI was not able to land for quite a long distance beyond. You wereunconscious, and I carried you along the opposite bank, then swamacross for my canoe and ferried you over. There you have the wholestory. " He broke off sharply, then before she could offer comment hespoke again: "I think it would be as well if you could have a change ofclothes. It is not cold, but to let those you have dry on you mightbring on all sorts of ills. There are some things of mine in the tent. I will put them handy, and you can slip them on whilst I take a stroll. You can then dry your own outfit. "

He did not wait for any reply, but walked to the little fly-tent, andthree or four minutes later emerged, puffing a pipe. He waved towardsthe tent, and turning away began to walk rapidly up river. HelenYardely sat where she was for a moment looking after him. There was avery thoughtful expression on her face. 

"The whole story!" she murmured as she rose to her feet. "I wonder?That man may have been a convict; but he is no braggart. "

She walked to the tent, and with amused eyes looked at the articles ofattire obviously arranged for her inspection. A grey flannel shirt, aleather belt, a pair of Bedford cord breeches, a pair of moccasins, miles too large for her, and a mackinaw jacket a little the worse forwear. 

She broke into sudden laughter as she considered them, and after amoment went to the tent-door and shyly looked up the river. The figureof her rescuer was still receding at a rapid rate. She nodded toherself, and then dropping the flap of the tent, faced the problem ofthe unaccustomed garments. 

CHAPTER VI

A MYSTERIOUS SHOT

Twenty minutes later, as Hubert Stane returned along the river bank, hesaw the girl emerge from the tent, and begin to arrange her own soddenattire where the heat of the fire would dry it. The girl completed hertask just as he arrived at the camp, and stood upright, the rich bloodrunning in her face. Then a flash of laughter came in her grey eyes. 

"Well?" she asked, challenging his gaze. 

"You make a very proper man, " he answered, laughing. 

"And I am as hungry as two!" she retorted. "I have eaten nothing formany hours. I wonder if----"

"What a fool I am, " he broke in brusquely. "I never thought of that. Iwill do what I can at once. "

Without further delay he began to prepare a meal, heating an alreadyroasted partridge on a spit, and making coffee, which, with biscuit heset before her. 

"It is not exactly a Savoy supper, but----"

"It will be better, " she broke in gaily, "for I was never so hungry inmy life. "

"Then eat! There are one or two little things I want to attend to, ifyou will excuse me. "

"Certainly, " she replied laughingly. "It will be less embarrassing ifthere is no witness of my gluttony. "

Stane once more left the camp, taking with him a hatchet, and presentlyreturned dragging with him branches of young spruce with which heformed a bed a little way from the tent, and within the radius of theheat from the fire. On this he threw a blanket, and his preparation forthe night completed, turned to the girl once more. 

"I never enjoyed a meal so much in my life, " she declared, as shelifted the tin plate from her lap. "And this coffee is delicious. Won'tyou have some, Mr. Stane?"

"Thank you, Miss a--Miss----"

"Yardely is my name, " she said quickly, "Helen Yardely. " He took thecoffee as she handed it to him in an enamelled mug, then he said: "Howdid you come to be adrift, Miss Yardely?"

As he asked the question a thoughtful look came on the girl's beautifulface. 

"I was making a little trip by myself, " she said slowly, "to see abeaver dam in a creek a little below our encampment, and some one shotat me!"

"Shot at you!" Stane stared at her in amazement as he gave theexclamation. 

"Yes, twice! The second shot broke my paddle, and as I had no spareone, and as I cannot swim, I could do nothing but drift with thecurrent. "

"But who can have done such a thing?" cried the young man. 

"I have not the slightest idea, unless it was some wandering Indian, but I am quite sure it was not an accident. I saw the first shot strikethe water close to the canoe. It came from some woods on the left bank, and I cried out to warn the shooter whom I could not see. It was aboutfour minutes after when the second shot was fired, and the bullet hitthe shaft of the paddle, so that it broke on my next stroke, and I wasleft at the mercy of the river. "

"And no more shots were fired?"

"None!"

Stane sat there with a very thoughtful look upon his face; and after amoment Miss Yardely spoke again. 

"What do you think, Mr. Stane?"

He shook his head. "I do not know what to think, Miss Yardely, " he saidslowly, "but it looks as if the thing had been done deliberately. "

"You mean that some one tried to kill me?"

"No, not that, " was the reply. "You would offer too fair a mark for anyone accustomed to handling a rifle to miss. I mean that there was adeliberate attempt to set you adrift in the canoe. The first shot, yousay, struck the water near you, the second smashed your paddle, andafter that there was no more firing. Why? The only answer is that theshooter had accomplished his object. "

"It certainly has that appearance, " answered the girl. "But why shouldany one do a thing like that?"

"That is quite beyond me. It was so brutal a thing to do!"

"Some roaming Indian possibly, " suggested Miss Yardely thoughtfully. 

"But as you asked just now, why? Indians are not so rich in cartridgesthat they can afford to waste them on a mere whim. "

"No, perhaps not, " said the girl. "But I can think of no one else. " Shewas silent for a moment, then she added, "Whoever did the vile thingfrightened me badly. It is not nice to sit helpless in a canoe driftingout into such a wilderness as this. " She waved her hand round thelandscape as she spoke, and gave a little shudder. "You see I neverknew what was coming next. I passed some islands and hoped that I mightstrike one of them, but the current swept me clear, and for hours I satstaring, watching the banks go by, and wondering how long it would bebefore I was missed; and then, I suppose I must have fallen asleep, because I remember nothing more until just before I was thrown into thewater. "

"It was a very fortunate thing you struck those rocks, " said Stanemeditatively. 

"Fortunate, Mr. Stane? Why?"

"Because in all probability I should not have seen you if you had not;and a few miles below here, there are some bad rapids, and below themthe river makes a leap downwards of nearly a hundred feet. "

"A fall?" cried the girl, her face blanching a little, as she flashed aglance downstream. "Oh, that would have been terrible! It was fortunatethat you were here. "

"Very, " he agreed earnestly, "and I am beginning to think that it wasprovidential; though all day I have been cursing my luck that I shouldhave been in this neighbourhood at all. I have no business here. "

"Then why----" she began, and stopped as if a little afraid that herquestion was too frankly curious. 

It was so that Stane understood the interrupted utterance. He laughed alittle, and then answered:

"You need not mind asking, Miss Yardely; because the truth is that mypresence in this neighbourhood is due to a mystery that is almost asinsoluble as the one that brought you drifting downstream. On the nightafter you arrived at Fort Malsun, I was waiting at my tent doorfor--er--a man whom I expected a visit from, when I was knocked on thehead by an Indian, and when I came to, I found I was a prisoner, undersentence of deportation. We travelled some days, rather a roundaboutjourney, as I have since guessed, and one morning I awoke to find mycaptors had disappeared, leaving me with my canoe and stores and armsabsolutely untouched. "

"That was a strange adventure, Mr. Stane. "

"So I think, " answered Stane with conviction. 

"What do you think was the reason for your deportation?"

"I do not know, " answered Stane thoughtfully. "My chief captor said itwas an order, but that may have been a lie; and such wildly possiblereasons that I can think of are so inherently improbable that it isdifficult to entertain any of them. And yet----"

He broke off, and an absent look came in his eyes. The girl waited, hoping that he would continue, and whilst she did so for one momentvisioned Miskodeed in all her wild barbaric beauty and her mind, recalling Ainley's words upon the matter of the girl's relation to theman before her, wondered if there lay the reason. Stane still remainedsilent, showing no disposition to complete his thought; and it was thegirl who broke the silence. 

"You say you were waiting for a man when you were seized, Mr. Stane;tell me, was the man Gerald Ainley?"

The young man was a little startled by her question, as his mannershowed; but he answered frankly: "Yes! But how did you guess that?"

Helen Yardely smiled. "Oh, that was quite easy. You were the topic ofconversation at the dinner-table on the very night that youdisappeared; and I gathered that to the factor you were something of amystery, whilst no one except Mr. Ainley knew anything whatever aboutyou. As you and he were old acquaintances, what more natural than thatyou should be waiting for him? I suppose he did not come?"

"If he did, I never saw him--and I waited for him two nights!"

"Two!" cried Helen. "Then he could not have wanted to come. "

"I rather fancy he did not, " replied Stane with a bitter laugh. 

"You wished to see him very much?" asked the girl quickly. "It wasimportant that you should?"

"I wished to question him upon a matter that was important to me. "

"Ah!" said the girl in a tone that was full of significance. Stanelooked at her sharply, and then asked a question:

"What are you thinking, Miss Yardely?"

"Oh, I was just thinking that I had guessed one of your wildly possiblereasons, Mr. Stane; and to tell the truth, if Mr. Ainley was reallyanxious to avoid answering your questions, it does not seem to me soinherently improbable as you appear to think. "

"What convinces you of that, Miss Yardely?"

"Well, " she replied quickly, "you say the Indian told you that it wasan order. I ask myself--whose order? There were very few people at FortMalsun to give orders. I think of them in turn. The factor? You were astranger to him! My uncle? He never heard of you except in gossip overthe dinner-table the night you were deported. Gerald Ainley? He knewyou! He had made appointments with you that he twice failed tokeep--which, quite evidently, he had no intention of keeping. Hehad--may I guess?--some strong reason for avoiding you; and he is a manof some authority in the Company and moving to still greater. He wouldnot know the Indians who actually carried you away; but Factor Rodwellwould, and factors are only human, and sooner or later Gerald Ainleywill be able to considerably influence Mr. Rodwell's future. Therefore--well, Q. E. D. ! Do you not agree with me?"

"I find your argument convincing, " answered Stane, grimly. Then helapsed into thoughtful silence, whilst the girl watched him, wonderingwhat was in his mind. Presently she knew, for most unexpectedly theyoung man gave vent to a short laugh. 

"What a fool the man is!" he declared. "He must know that we shall meetagain some time!. .. But, Miss Yardely, I am keeping you from your rest!We must start betimes in the morning if I am to take you back to youruncle. "

"If you take me back----?"

"There is no question of that, " he answered promptly. "I could notdream of leaving you here. "

"I was about to say you would very likely meet Gerald Ainley. He hasjoined my uncle's party. "

"So much the better, " cried Stane. "I shall certainly go. "

There was a flash in his blue eyes, a grim look in his face, andinstinctively Helen Yardely knew that the matter which lay between thisman and Gerald Ainley was something much more serious than forceddeportation. What it was she could not guess, and though after she hadretired to the tent she lay awake thinking of the matter, when she fellasleep she was as far off as ever from anything that offered a solutionof the question which troubled her. And outside, staring into the fire, his strong face the index of dark thoughts, Hubert Stane sat throughthe short night of the Northland summer, never once feeling the need ofsleep, reviewing from a different angle the same question as that whichhad perplexed the mind of the girl in the tent. 

At the first hint of dawn, Stane rose from his seat, gathered up thegirl's now dry raiment, and put it in a heap at the tent door, thenprocuring a canvas bucket of water he set that beside the clothes andbusied himself with preparing breakfast. After a little time Helenemerged from the tent. Her eyes were bright, her beautiful face wasradiant with health, and it was clear that she was no worse for herexperience of the day before. 

"Good morning, Mr. Stane, " she said in gay salutation, "you are theearly bird. I hope you slept well. "

"May I reciprocate the hope, Miss Yardely?"

"Never better, thank you. I think hunger and adventure must behealthful. I slept like the Seven Sleepers rolled into one; I feel asfresh as the morning, and as hungry as--well, you will see, " she endedwith a laugh. 

"Then fall to, " he said, joining in the laughter. "The sooner thebreakfast is over the sooner we shall start. "

"I warn you I am in no hurry, " she retorted gaily. "I quite like this. It is the real thing; whilst my uncle's camps are just civilizationimposing itself on the wilderness. "

"But your uncle! You must think of him, Miss Yardely. You have now beenaway an afternoon and a night. He will be very anxious. "

"Yes!" she said, "that's the pity of it. If it were not for that----"She broke off suddenly, gave a little laugh, and for no apparent reasonher face flushed rosily. "But you must restore me to the bosom of myfamily soon!"

"More's the pity!" said Stane to himself under his breath; hisheart-beats quickening as he looked at her radiant face and laughingeyes; whilst openly he said: "I will do my best. You will be able tohelp me to paddle against the current, and no doubt in a little time weshall meet a search-party coming to look for you. "

"Then my little jaunt will be over! But you must not surrender me untilyou have seen my uncle, Mr. Stane. "

Stane laughed. "I will hold you against the world until then, MissYardely. "

"And perhaps you will see Gerald Ainley, as you wish, " she said, glancing at him to watch the effect of her words. 

The laughter died swiftly from his face, and a stern light came intohis eyes. "Yes, " he said grimly, "perhaps I shall. Indeed that is myhope. "

Helen Yardely did not pursue the matter further. Again she glimpseddepths that she did not understand, and as she ate her breakfast, sheglanced from time to time at her companion, wondering what was betweenhim and Ainley, and wondering in vain. 

Breakfast finished, they struck camp, launched the canoe and began topaddle upstream. The current was strong, and their progress slow, butafter some three hours they arrived at the junction of the two rivers. Then Stane asked a question. 

"Which way did you come, Miss Yardely? Down the main stream or theother one?"

The girl looked towards the meeting of the waters doubtfully. "I do notknow, " she said. "I certainly do not remember coming through that roughwater. "

"Your uncle's party had of course travelled some way since I left FortMalsun?"

"Oh yes; we had made long journeys each day and we were well on our wayto--wait a moment. I shall remember the name--to--to old Fort Winagog. "

"Winagog?" said Stane. 

"Yes! That is the name. I remember my uncle mentioning it yesterday. "

"Then you came down the main stream for a certainty, for the old fortstands on a lake that finds an outlet into this river, though it israther a long way from here. We will keep straight on. No doubt weshall strike either your uncle's camp or some search party presently. "

As it happened the conclusion he reached was based on a miscalculation. The only waterway to old Fort Winagog that he knew was from the mainriver and up the stream that formed the outlet for the lake. But therewas another that was reached by a short portage through the woods fromthe subsidiary stream from which he turned aside, a waterway which fedthe lake, and which cut off at least a hundred and twenty miles. Knowing nothing of this shorter route he naturally concluded that HelenYardely's canoe had come down the main stream, and took the wrongcourse in the perfect assurance that it was the right one. 

So hugging the left bank they passed the junction of the rivers, and alittle further on crossed to the other side to seek shelter from arising wind, under the high bank. And less than an hour later thecanoe, carrying Gerald Ainley and his Indian, swept out of thetributary stream into the broader current, and they drove downstream, unconscious that every stroke of the paddle was taking them furtherfrom the girl whom they sought. 

CHAPTER VII

STRANDED

It was high noon when Hubert Stane directed the nose of the canoetowards a landing-place in the lee of a sand-bar, on the upperside ofwhich was a pile of dry driftwood suitable for firing. 

"We will take an hour's rest, Miss Yardely; and possibly whilst we arewaiting your friends may show up. "

He lit a fire, prepared a wilderness meal of bacon and beans (thelatter already half-cooked) and biscuit and coffee, and as theyconsumed it, he watched the river, a long stretch of which was visible. 

"I thought we should have encountered your friends before now, MissYardely, " he remarked thoughtfully. 

The girl smiled. "Are you anxious to get rid of me?" she asked. "Believe me, I am enjoying myself amazingly, and if it were not for theanxiety my uncle and the others will be feeling, I should not troubleat all. This----" she waved a hand towards the canoe and the river--"isso different from my uncle's specially conducted tour. "

"Oh, I am not at all anxious to be rid of you, " laughed Stane, "but Icannot help wondering whether we have not taken the wrong turn. Yousee, if we have, every yard takes us further from your uncle's camp. "

"But this is the way to Fort Winagog?" asked the girl. 

"It is the only way I know. "

"Then we must be going right, for I distinctly heard my uncle say wewere within a day's journey of the place. "

"The thing that worries me is that we have met no one looking for you. "

"No doubt they will thoroughly search the neighbourhood of the camp andthe beaver-dam before going further afield. Also, you must rememberthat it might be dinner-time last night before I was missed. "

"Yes, " he agreed, "that is very likely. On which bank of the river wasthe camp?"

"This bank--the left coming down. "

"Then we will hug the shore this afternoon, and no doubt we shall findit before supper-time. "

But in that anticipation he was mistaken. The long day drew to itsclose and the camp they sought had not appeared; nor had anysearch-party materialized. As they pitched camp for the night, thedoubt which all day had been in Stane's mind became a certainty. 

"I am afraid we have made a mistake, Miss Yardely. You must have comedown the other river. It is impossible that we can have missed thecamp; and we must have seen any boat coming down this empty water. "

"But we are going towards Fort Winagog?"

"Yes. On the other hand you must remember that a paddle-driven canoetravels much faster than a merely drifting one; and that we ourselves, assuming that we are on the right way, all day have been shortening thedistance that a search-party would have to travel. We ought to have metsome time ago. I think we shall have to turn back in the morning. "

"Must we?" asked the girl. "Can't we go on to Fort Winagog? I can waitthere till my uncle appears, and I shall not be taking you further outof your way. I am afraid I am putting you to a good deal of trouble, and wasting your time. "

"Time is not of much account to me, " laughed Stane shortly. "And whatyou suggest is impossible. "

"Why?" demanded Helen. 

"Because old Fort Winagog is a fort no longer. It is a mere ruin likeold Fort Selkirk. There may be an Indian or two in the neighbourhood. There is certainly no one else. "

"Then we shall have to go back?" said the girl. 

"It seems to be the only way, " was the reply. "If we are wrong, as I amconvinced we are, every yard we go takes us further from your people. "

"I am sorry to give you all this trouble, " said the girl contritely. 

"Please--please!" he answered in quick protest. "Believe me it is apleasure to serve you, and with me a few days do not matter. I shallhave enough of my own company before long. "

"You live alone?" asked Helen. 

"I have an old Indian for companion. "

"And what do you do, if you will permit me to be so curious?"

"Oh, " he laughed. "I hunt, I pursue the elusive nugget, and Iexperiment with vegetables. And this winter I am going to start atrapping line. "

"But you are rich!" she cried. "You have no need to live in exile. "

"Yes, " he answered with sudden bitterness. "I am rich. I suppose Ainleytold you that. But exile is the only thing for me. You see a sojourn inDartmoor spoils one for county society. "

"Oh, " she cried protestingly, "I cannot believe that you--that you----"

"Thank you, " he said as the girl broke off in confusion. "I cannotbelieve it myself. But twelve good men and true believed it; an expertin handwriting was most convincing, and if you had heard the judge----"

"But you did not do it, Mr. Stane, I am sure of that. "

"No, " he answered, "I did not do the thing for which I suffered. But toprove my innocence is another matter. "

"You have not given up the endeavour, I hope. "

"No! I have a man at work in England, and I myself make smallendeavours. Only the other day I thought that I----" Apparently heremembered something, for he broke off sharply. "But why discuss theaffair? It is only one of the world's small injustices which shows thatthe law, usually right, may go wrong occasionally. "

But Helen Yardely was not so easily to be turned aside. Whilst he hadbeen speaking a thought had occurred to her, and now took the form of aquestion. 

"I suppose that the other night when you were waiting for Mr. Ainley, it was on this particular matter that you wished to see him?"

"What makes you think that?" Stane asked quickly. 

Helen Yardely smiled. "It is not difficult to guess. You told me lastnight that you wished to question him on a matter that was important toyou. And this matter--Well! it needs no argument. "

"It might be something else, Miss Yardely, " was the evasive reply. 

"Yes, it might be, " answered the girl, "but I do not think it is. "

Stane made no reply, but sat looking in the fire, and the girl watchinghim, drew her own conclusion from his silence, a conclusion that wasfar from favourable to Gerald Ainley. She wondered what were thequestions Stane had wished to ask her uncle's secretary; and which, asshe was convinced, he had been at such pains to avoid. Was it possiblethat her rescuer believed that his one-time friend had it in his powerto prove his innocence of the crime for which he had suffered? All theindications seemed to point that way; and as she looked at the grave, thoughtful face, and the greying hair of the man who had saved her fromdeath, she resolved that on the morrow, when she reached her uncle'scamp, she would herself question Gerald Ainley upon the matter. 

But, as events befell, the opportunity that the morrow was to bring wasnot given. For that night, whilst she slept in the little tent, andStane, wrapped in a blanket, slumbered on a bed of spruce-boughs, perhaps half-a-dozen yards away, a man crept cautiously between thetrees in the rear of the encampment, and stood looking at it withcovetous eyes. He was a half-breed of evil countenance, and he carriedan old trade gun, which he held ready for action whilst he surveyed thesilent camp. His dark eyes fell on Stane sleeping in the open, and thenlooked towards the tent with a question in them. Evidently he waswondering how many travellers there were; and found the thought adeterrent one; for though once he lifted his gun and pointed it to thesleeping man, he lowered it again, his eyes turning to the tent anew. 

After a period of indecision, the intruder left the shadow of thetrees, and crept quietly down to the camp, his gun still at the ready, and with his eyes fixed on the unconscious Stane. Moving verycautiously he reached the place where the canoe was beached, and lookeddown into it. A gleam of satisfaction came into his dark eyes as he sawa small sack of beans reposing in the stern, then again a covetous lookcame into them as their gaze shifted to the stores about the camp. Butthese were very near the sleeping man, and as the latter stirred in hissleep, the half-breed relinquished any thought of acquiring them. Stealthily he conveyed the canoe down to the water's edge, launched it, and then with a grin on his evil face as he gave a last look at the manin the blanket, he paddled away. 

A full three-quarters of an hour later Stane awoke, and kicking asidethe blankets, replenished the fire, and then went a little way upstreamto bathe. At the end of half an hour he returned. His first glance wastowards the tent, the fly of which was still closed, then he lookedround the camp and a puzzled look came on his face. There was somethinga little unfamiliar, something not present which----

"Great Scott! The canoe!"

As the words shot from him he hurried forward. Quite distinctly heremembered carrying it up the bank the night before, and now----. Inside half a minute he found himself looking at the place where it hadlain. The impression of it was quite clear on the dewy grass, and therewere other impressions also--impressions of moccasined-feet going downto the edge of the water. For a moment he stared unbelievingly; then asa thought occurred to him he glanced at the tent again. Had the girl inhis absence taken the canoe and----

The thought died as soon as it was born, and he began to follow thetracks on the damp grass, backward. They skirted the camp in a smallsemi-circle, and led to the forest behind, where on the dry pineneedles they were not quite so easy to follow. But follow them he did, and in a couple of minutes reached a place where it was evident someone had stood for a considerable time. This spot was in the shadow of agreat spruce, and standing behind the trunk he looked towards the camp. The fire and the white tent were plain to be seen. Then he understoodwhat had happened. Some one had seen the encampment and had waited inthe place where he now stood, probably to reconnoitre, and then hadmade off with the canoe. A thought leaped into his mind at that moment, and brought with it a surge of fear. 

"The stores. If----"

At a run he covered the space between him and the camp, and as helooked round and saw that most of the stores reposed where he hadplaced them the previous night, relief surged in his heart. 

"Thank heaven!"

"Mr. Stane, what is the matter? You look as if something had startledyou. "

He swung round instantly. Helen Yardely was standing at the tent doorwith a smile on her face. 

"The matter is serious enough, " he explained quickly. "Some one hasstolen the canoe in the night. "

"Stolen the canoe!" echoed the girl. 

"Yes! You can see his tracks in the grass, going up to the place wherehe stood and watched us. He must have come down whilst we slept. "

"But who can have done such a thing?"

Stane shook his head. "I cannot think. A wandering Indian mostlikely. .. . Hard put to it, I expect. He has taken a sack of beans withhim. "

"Then we are stranded?" asked the girl quickly. 

"In a way--yes, " he agreed. "But we are not in a desperate case. Wehave food, I have my rifle, and it will be possible to make a raft andfloat down the river until we meet your uncle's people. "

The girl looked at the river doubtfully. "What sort of control shall wehave over a raft?"

"Well, " he said, "I should make a steering oar. "

"And if the current took control, Mr. Stane? Please believe me when Isay I am not afraid--but I cannot help thinking of those falls youmentioned. "

Stane looked thoughtful. For the moment he had forgotten the falls, andas he remembered the quickening of the current at the meeting of therivers he recognized there was reason in the girl's question. 

"There are risks, of course, " he said. "The alternative to the river isto tramp through the wood. "

"Then I vote for the alternative, " replied Helen with a little laugh. "I've had my full of drifting like a fly caught in an eddy. "

Stane looked down the river and from the river to the woods which linedits banks. 

"It will be difficult, " he said. "This is virgin forest. "

"Pooh, " retorted the girl lightly. "You can't make me afraid, Mr. Stane. Ever since I left Edmonton with my uncle's party I've wanted torough it--to know what the wilderness really is. Now's my chance--ifyou don't deprive me of it. "

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Stane laughed. 

"Oh, I won't deprive you of it, Miss Yardely. We'll start afterbreakfast; but I warn you, you don't know what you are in for. "

"Job's comforter!" she mocked him laughingly. "I'm going to fill thekettle. A cup of tea will cheer you up and make you take a rosier viewof things. "

She said no more, but taking the kettle, walked down to the river, humming to herself a gay little chanson. 

 "Qui va lŕ! There's someone in the orchard, There's a robber in the apple-trees, Qui va lŕ! He is creeping through the doorway. Ah, allez-vous-en! va-t'-en!"

He watched her go, with a soft light gleaming in his hard blue eyes, then he turned and began to busy himself with preparations forbreakfast. When the meal was finished, he went through the stores andhis personal possessions. 

"We can't take them all, " he explained. "I know my limit, and sixtypounds is as much as I can carry along if I am to travel steadily, without too many rests. We shall have to cache a goodish bit. "

"You are forgetting me, aren't you?" asked the girl, quietly. "I'mfairly strong, you know. "

"But----"

"I think I must insist, " she interrupted with a smile. "You are doingall this for me; and quite apart from that, I shall be glad to knowwhat the trail is like under real conditions. "

Stane argued further, but in vain, and in the end the girl had her way, and took the trail with a pack of perhaps five and twenty pounds, partly made up of the clothes she had changed into after her rescue. Stane knew the woods; he guessed what havoc the trail would make ofskirts and for that reason he included the clothing in her pack, foreseeing that there would be further need of them. 

As they started the girl began to hum:

 "Some talk of Alexander And some of Hercules. "

Stane laughed over his shoulder. 

"I'm afraid a quick step will be out of keeping soon, Miss Yardely. "

"Why?" she asked interrupting her song. 

"Well--packing on trail is necessarily a slow business; and there'srough country between these two rivers. "

"You are trying to scare me because I'm a tenderfoot, " she retortedwith a laugh that was like music in Stane's ears; "but I won't bescared. "

She resumed her song with a gay air of bravado; passing from one chantyto another in a voice fluty as a blackbird. Stane smiled to himself. Heliked her spirit, and he knew that that would carry her through thedifficulties that lay before them, even when the flesh was inclined tofailure. But presently the springs of song dried up, and when thesilence had lasted a little time he looked round. The girl's face wasflushed, and the sweat was dropping in her eyes. 

"Nothing the matter, I hope, Miss Yardely?"

"No, thank you, " she answered with a little attempt to laugh; "but onecan't sing, you know, with mosquitoes and other winged beasts poppinginto one's mouth. "

"They are rather a nuisance, " he agreed and plodded on. 

Packing one's worldly possessions through the pathless wilderness is aslow, grinding misery. The lightest pack soon becomes a burden. At thebeginning of a march it may seem a mere nothing, in an hour it is anoppression; in three a millstone is a feather compared with it; andbefore night the inexperienced packer feels that, like Atlas, he bearsthe world upon his shoulders. It was therefore little wonder that HelenYardely ceased to sing after they had marched but a very little way;and indeed the trail, apart from the apparently growing weight of thepack, was not favourable to song. There was no sort of path whateverafter they had left the river bank; nothing but the primeval forest, with an undergrowth that was so dense that the branches of one bushwere often interwoven with its neighbours. Through this they had toforce their way, head down, hands and clothes suffering badly in theprocess. Then would come a patch of Jack-pine, where trees seven to tenfeet high grew in such profusion that it was well-nigh impossible tofind a passage between them; and on the heels of this would follow astretch of muskeg, quaking underfoot, and full of boggy traps for theunwary. In the larger timber also, the deadfalls presented an immensedifficulty. Trees, with their span of life exhausted, year after year, had dropped where they stood, and dragging others down in their fall, cumbered the ground in all directions, sometimes presenting tangledbarriers which it was necessary to climb over, a method notunaccompanied by danger, since in the criss-cross of the branches andtrunks a fall would almost inevitably have meant a broken limb. 

The ground they travelled over was uneven, intersected here and thereby gullies, which were only to be skirted by great expense of time andenergy, and the crossing of which was sometimes dangerous, but hadperforce to be accomplished, and by noon, when they reached the bank ofa small stream, the girl was exhausted and her face wore a strainedlook. Stane saw it, and halting, took off his pack. 

"Time for grub, " he said. 

Then unstrapping his pack he stretched a blanket on the sloping ground. The girl watched him with interest. 

"Why----" she began, only to be promptly interrupted. 

"For you, " he explained briefly. "Lie down and relax your limbs. Pullthis other blanket over you, then you won't chill. "

"But I want to help, " she protested. "I don't like to feel that you areworking and I----"

"You will help best by obeying orders, " he said smilingly. "We shallhave to push on after an hour, and if you don't rest you will be toodone up to keep the trail till evening. "

"Then I must obey, " she said. 

He turned to look for wood with which to make a fire, and when hereturned she was lying on the blanket with another drawn over her, andher eyes smiled at him as he appeared. The next minute they wereclosed, and two minutes later she was fast asleep. Stane, as herealized the fact, smiled a little to himself. 

"Of spirit compact, " he murmured to himself, and went forward withpreparations for a meal. 

It was two hours later when the girl awoke, and the meal was ready--aquite substantial one. 

"Have I slept long?" inquired Helen, moving towards the fire. 

"Two hours. But don't worry about that. We have lost no time really, for I have done a little exploring. There's a stretch of high ground infront of us, a kind of height of land between the river we have leftand the one we are making for. Once we are well across that we shallfind the going easier. We'll tackle it this afternoon. I've foundsomething, like a path, an old trapping-line I should think by the waythe trees have been blazed. "

When the meal was finished they put out the fire and started anew, and, by evening, had passed the crest of the high land between the rivers, and were moving down the wooded slopes on the further side looking fora camping place. The timber thickened, and they suddenly encountered atremendous barrier of deadfall ten or eleven feet high, with the fallentrunks criss-crossing in all directions. From the further side of itcame the ripple of running water proclaiming a stream and the waterthey were seeking. 

"It is exasperating, " said Stane, with a little laugh. "But we mustclimb the beastly thing. If we try to go round it, we shall probablyonly encounter others. I'll go first and have a look at the otherside. "

He began to climb the obstruction and when he reached the top lookeddown at the tangle of trunks below. 

"It's pretty bad, " he shouted to the watching girl. "You had betterwait until I find a way down. "

He began to crawl gingerly along the monarch tree at the crown of thepile. Its branches were twisted in all directions and dangerous snagswere frequent. Suddenly his foot slipped. He made a wild attempt toregain his balance but the heavy pack prevented him, and a second laterwith a shout he plunged into the tangled pile below, vanishing from thegirl's sight on the further side. With a swift cry of alarm, Helen, whohad been seated on a fallen trunk, leaped to her feet. She called outto him, her voice shaking with fear:

"Mr. Stane! Mr. Stane!"

There came no answering hail from the other side of the deadfall, andwith dismay manifesting itself in her beautiful face, the girl facedthe barrier and began to climb with reckless, desperate haste. 

CHAPTER VIII

A MEETING IN THE FOREST

Gerald Ainley's canoe had almost reached the junction of the rivers, onthe return journey, and he and his companion were battling hard againstthe acceleration of the current, when the Indian gave a grunt andlooked round. 

"What is it, Joe?" asked Ainley quickly. 

"Man with canoe, " answered the Indian laconically. "He make a portage. "

"Where?"

"Up river, " replied the Indian with a jerk of his head. Ainley cranedhis neck a little and, as he did so, just caught sight of a man movingacross an open place between the trees a quarter of a mile away, thecanoe over his head and shoulder like a huge cowl. 

"We must speak to him, Joe! Perhaps he has news, " said Ainley quickly, and a second later shouted at the top of his voice. "Hal--lo--o--o!"

That the man heard the hail was sure for both of them saw him halt andturn to look downstream, but the next moment he turned, and, continuinghis journey, was instantly lost in the thick of the trees. 

"That was queer, " said Ainley. "He heard me, but whoever he is hedoesn't want to speak to us. "

"We catch him, " replied the Indian. "Make land below the meeting of thewaters, and portage through woods to other river. Meet him there. "

As he spoke the native began to make a course across the river, andAinley asked for information. 

"I don't understand, Joe. If we land below the junction how can we meeta man who lands above?"

"Both go the same way, " grunted the Indian. "Walk to meet the man. Wemake short portage, and wait for him across the water. He come and wemeet him. "

Ainley still was in a fog, but when they had landed and had started tofollow a well-defined path through the forest, he understood. Thedirection they were following would bring them to the bank of thetributary river, perhaps a mile and a half from the meeting of thewaters; and the path which the stranger was following would bring himout on the opposite side of the river. If Joe were right the lowerportage was the shorter, and, notwithstanding that the other man hadthe start, they could reach the river first and would be able to forcea meeting on him however much he wished to avoid them. 

After half an hour's steady trudging through the woods, they came insight of the water once more, and set their burdens down behind ascreen of bushes. 

"We first, " said the Indian after a cautious survey of the empty river. "Wait! He come. "

Seated behind the screening bushes they waited, watching the other sideof the river. Half an hour passed and the man for whom they watched didnot appear. Then the Indian spoke. 

"The man know, " he said. "He wait till we go. "

"But why should he be afraid?" asked Ainley sharply. 

"I not know! But he wait. "

"Then if the mountain won't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to themountain. "

"What that?" asked the Indian. 

"We will cross the river, " said Ainley. "We will go look for him. "

"Good!" said the Indian. 

Five minutes later they were afloat once more, and in a few minutes hadlanded on the further side. 

"You stop here with the canoe, Joe, " said Ainley picking up his rifle. "I'll go and hunt up the fellow. If you hear me call, come along atonce. "

The Indian nodded and proceeded to fill a pipe, whilst the white man, following the track made by many feet portaging from one river to theother, moved into the woods. He made no attempt at concealment, nor didhe move with caution, for he was assured that in the dense wood a manburdened with a canoe could not turn aside from the path withoutdisaster overtaking him. If he kept straight on he was bound to meetthe man whom he sought. 

That conviction proved to be well-grounded. He had been walking lessthan ten minutes when he caught sight of the canoe lying directly inhis way, with the man who had been carrying it, seated on the groundwith his back against a tree, smoking. As the man caught sight of himhe started to his feet and stretched his hand towards a gun reposingagainst a trunk. Holding his own rifle ready for action, Ainley shoutedreassuring words to the man, and then moved quickly forward. The man, ahalf-breed, the same man who had stolen Stane's canoe, gave one keenglance at him and then dropping his hand from the gun, awaited hiscoming. 

"Why did you run away when I shouted a while back?" asked Ainleysharply. 

"I not run, " answered the half-breed, insolently. "I carry the canoe, an' I tink I not wait. Dat is all. "

Ainley looked at the man thoughtfully. There was something furtiveabout the fellow, and he was sure that the reason given was not thereal one. 

"Then why are you waiting here?" he asked with a directness that in noway nonplussed the other. 

"I take what you call a breather, " answered the man stolidly. "Whatmatter to you?"

Ainley looked at him. He was sure the man was lying, but it was noaffair of his, and after a moment he turned to his main purpose. 

"I wanted to ask you something, " he said. "A white girl has been loston the river--she is a niece of a great man in the Company, and I amlooking for her. Have you seen her?"

"What she like?" asked the half-breed with a sudden quickening ofinterest. 

Ainley described Helen Yardely to the best of his ability, watching theother's evil face whilst he did so, and before he had ended guessedthat the man knew something of the girl he was seeking. 

"You have seen her?" he cried abruptly. 

"Oui!" replied the half-breed. "I haf seen her, one, two, tree daysago. She is in canoe on zee river, " he pointed towards the water as hespoke, and waved his hand towards the south. "She is ver' beautiful;an' I watch her for zee pleasure, vous comprenez? And anoder man hewatched also. I see him, an' I see him shoot with zee gun--once, twicehe shoot. "

"You saw him shoot?" Ainley's face had gone suddenly white, and therewas a tremor in his voice as he asked his questions. "Do you mean heshot the girl?"

"No! No! Not zee girl. He very bad shot if he try. Non! It was zeepaddle he try for, an' he get it zee second shot. I in the woods thisside zee river an' I see him, as he stand behind a tree to watch whatzee girl she will do. "

"You saw him?" asked Ainley, in a faltering voice. "Who was he?"

"I not know, " answered the half-breed quickly, "but I tink I see heemagain since. "

"You think----"

"Oui! I tink I talk with heem, now. "

There was a look of malicious triumph on the half-breed's face, and analert look in his furtive eyes as he made the accusation. For a momentstark fear looked out of Ainley's eyes and he visibly flinched, then herecovered himself and broke into harsh laughter. 

"You think? Then you think wrong, and I wouldn't say that again if Iwere you. It might lead to sudden trouble. If I were the man who firedthose shots why should I be spending my time looking for her as I am?"

"I not know, " said the half-breed sullenly. 

"No, I should think not; so you had better put that nonsense out ofyour head, now, once for all; for if you go about telling that mad taleyou'll surely be taken for a madman and the mounted police----" Hebroke off as a flash of fear manifested itself in the half-breed'sface, then he smiled maliciously. "I see you do not like the police, though I daresay they would like to meet you, hey?"

The man stood before him dumb, and Ainley, convinced that he hadstumbled on the truth, laughed harshly. "Stoney Mountain Penitentiaryis not a nice place. The silent places of the North are better; but ifI hear of you breathing a word of that rot you were talking just now, Iwill send word to the nearest police-post of your whereabouts, and oncethe mounters start after a man, as I daresay you know, they follow thetrail to a finish. "

"Oui, I know, " assented the man quickly. 

"Then unless you want to land in their hands in double quick timeyou'll tell no one of the silly mistake you made just now, or--well youunderstand. "

The half-breed nodded, and thinking that he had gone far enough, Ainleychanged the subject. 

"And now tell me, have you seen that girl I asked you about since yousaw her three days back?"

A thoughtful look came in the half-breed's face, and his unsteady eyessought the canoe lying at his feet. He thought of the white tent on theriver bank and of the man sleeping outside of it, and instantly guessedwho had occupied the tent. 

"Oui!" he replied laconically. 

"You have?" Sudden excitement blazed in Ainley's face as he asked thequestion. "When? Where?"

The half-breed visioned the sleeping camp once more, and with anotherglance at the stolen canoe, gave a calculated answer. "Yesterday. Shego up zee oder river in a canoe with a white man. "

"Up the other river?"

"Oui! I pass her and heem, both paddling. It seems likely dat dey go toFort Winagog. Dey paddle quick. "

"Fort Winagog!" As he echoed the words, a look of thought came intoAinley's eyes. Helen would have heard that name as the next destinationof the party, and if the man who had saved her from the river was in ahurry and travelling that way it was just possible that she had decidedto accompany him there. He nodded his head at the thought, and then anew question shot into his mind, a question to which he gave utterance. 

"Who was the man--I mean the man who was with the girl in the canoe?"

"I not know, " answered the half-breed, trying to recall the features ofthe sleeping man whose canoe he had stolen. "Heem tall man, with hairthat curl like shavings. "

"Tell me more, " demanded Ainley sharply, as an unpleasant suspicionshot into his mind. 

"I not know more, " protested the half-breed. "I see heem not ver'close; an' I travel fast. I give heem an' girl one look, cry bonjour!an' then he is past. Vous comprenez?"

"Yes, " replied the white man standing there with a look of abstractionon his face. For a full two minutes he did not speak again, but stoodas if resolving some plan in his mind, then he looked at the half-breedagain. 

"You are going up the river?" he asked. 

"Oui!"

"Then I want you to do something for me. A day's journey or so furtheron you will find a camp, it is the camp of a great man of theCompany----"

"I know it, " interrupted the half-breed, "I haf seen it. "

"Of course, I had forgotten you had been in the neighbourhood of it!Well, I want you to go there as fast as you can and to take a note forme. There will be a reward. "

"I will take zee note. "

"Then you must wait whilst I write it. "

Seating himself upon a fallen tree he scribbled a hasty note to SirJames Yardely, telling him that he had news of Helen and that he hopedvery shortly to return to camp with her, and having addressed it gaveit to the half-breed. 

"There is need for haste, " he said. "I will reward you now, and thegreat man whose niece the girl is, will reward you further when youtake the news of her that is in the letter. But you will remember notto talk. I should say nothing about what you saw up the river a fewdays back. Sir James is a suspicious man and he might think that youfired those shots yourself--in which case----" He shrugged hisshoulders, then taking out a ten-dollar note, handed it to thehalf-breed, whose eyes gleamed as he took it. "Now, " he continued, "shoulder your canoe, and come along to the river. I should like to seeyou start. I'll carry your gun, and that sack of yours. "

He took the half-breed's gun, picked up the beans, and in single filethey marched through the wood back to where the Indian sat patientlywaiting. On their appearance he looked round, and as his eyes fell onthe half-breed's face a momentary flash came into them, and then as itpassed he continued to look at the new-comer curiously. 

Ainley rapidly explained the situation and the Indian listened withoutcomment. He waited until the half-breed was actually afloat and out ofearshot, and then he spoke. 

"Bad man!" he said. "No good. Heem liar. I have seen heem b'fore. "

"Maybe, " answered Ainley lightly. "So much the better--for one thing!But there's no reason why he should lie about this matter, and I thinkhe was telling the truth about that meeting up the other river. We'llfollow the trail anyway; and we will start at once. Will the portage orthe river be the better way?"

"Portage, " said the Indian, following the half-breed with his eyes. 

"Then we had better get going. We've no time to lose, and you needn'tworry yourself about that fellow. He'll do what I've asked him, for thesake of himself. He can have no reason for doing otherwise. "

But in that, as in his statement that the half-breed could have noreason for lying, Ainley was mistaken. The stolen canoe was a veryample reason, and so little inclined was the thief to seek the presenceof Sir James Yardely, that when he reached a creek three miles or so upthe river, he deliberately turned aside, and at his first camp he usedAinley's note to light his pipe, tossing what was left of it into thefire without the least compunction. Then, as he smoked, a look ofmalice came on his face. 

"No, I not meestake. Dat man fire zee shots. I sure of dat; an' by Gar!I get heem one of dese days, an' I make heem pay for it, good an'plenty. Mais--I wonder--why he shoot? I wonder eef zee white mees, sheknew?"

And whilst he sat wondering, Gerald Ainley and his Indian companion, travelling late, toiled on, following the river trail to Fort Winagogon a vain quest. 

CHAPTER IX

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

Slowly, and with the pungent taste of raw brandy in his mouth, HubertStane came to himself. The first thing he saw was Helen Yardely's whiteface bending over him, and the first sound he heard was a cry ofsobbing gladness. 

"Thank God! Thank God!"

He did not understand, and at her cry made an attempt to move. As hedid so, sharp pains assailed him, and forced a groan from his lips. 

"Oh!" cried the girl. "You must lie still, Mr. Stane. I am afraid youare rather badly hurt, indeed I thought you were killed. I am going todo what I can for you, now that I know that you are not. Your leg isbroken, I think, and you have other injuries, but that is most serious, and I must manage to set it, somehow. "

"To set it----" he began, and broke off. 

"Yes! I am afraid I shall not prove a very efficient surgeon; but Iwill do my best. I hold the St. John's Ambulance medal, so you might beworse off, " she said, with a wan smile. 

"Much, " he agreed. 

"Now that you are conscious I am going to leave you for a few minutes. I must find something that will serve for splints. "

Without more ado she departed, taking with her an ax, and presentlythrough the stillness of the forest there reached him the sound ofchopping. In spite of his pain he smiled to himself, then afterlistening for awhile, he began to try and ascertain the extent of hisinjuries for himself. There was a warm trickle on his face and heguessed that there was a gash somewhere; his body seemed to be onegreat sore, from which he deducted that he was badly bruised; whilsthis leg pained him intolerably. Lying as he was on the flat of hisback, he couldn't see the leg, and desiring to do so he made a greateffort and sat up. As he did so, he groaned heavily, and incontinentlyfainted. 

He was still unconscious when the girl returned, and after one quicklook of alarm she nodded to herself. "A faint, " she whispered. "Perhapsit is just as well. "

With a knife she ripped the breeches leg right up the seam, then withthe aid of moss and a blanket, together with the rough splints she hadcut, she made a shift to set the broken leg. Twice during the operationStane opened his eyes, groaned heavily, and passed into unconsciousnessagain. 

Helen did not allow these manifestations of suffering to deflect herfrom her task. She knew that her unskilled surgery was bound to painhim severely, and she welcomed the lapses into unconsciousness, sincethey made her task easier. At last she gave a sob of relief and stoodup to survey her handiwork. The splicing and the binding lookedterribly rough, but she was confident that the fractured ends of bonewere in position, and in any case she had done her best. 

After that she busied herself with building a fire, and after heatingwater, washed the wound on Stane's forehead, and carefully examined himfor other injuries. There were bruises in plenty, but so far as shecould discover no broken bones, and when she had satisfied herself onthat point, she turned to other tasks. 

Cutting a quantity of young spruce-boughs she fashioned them into a bedclose beside where he lay, and filled all the interstices with springymoss, laying over all a blanket. That done, she turned once more toStane, to find him with eyes wide open, watching her. 

"I have set your leg, " she said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "I've donethe best I could, though I am afraid it is rather a rough piece ofwork. "

He raised his head slightly, and glanced down at the bandaged limb, then he smiled a trifle wanly. 

"It has a most workmanlike look, " he said in a faint voice. 

"Now I want to get you on this bed. I ought to have done so before Iset your leg. I had forgotten that there was no one to help me lift youon to it. But perhaps we shall be able to manage, though I am afraid itwill be a very painful ordeal for you. Still it must be done--we can'thave you lie upon the ground. "

The ordeal was certainly a painful one, but by no means so difficult asthe girl had anticipated. Making a sling out of the pack ropes, Helenheld the injured leg clear of the ground, whilst Stane, using his armsand his other leg, managed to lift himself backward on to hisimprovised couch. 

The strain of the effort tried him severely, and he lay for a long timein an exhausted condition, with his eyes closed. This was no more thanHelen had expected, and she did not let the fact trouble her unduly. Working methodically she erected the little tent in such a positionthat it covered the injured man's bed; and then prepared a meal of suchthings as their resources afforded, lacing the coffee she had made witha little brandy. 

Stane was too done up to eat much, but he swallowed a fair quantity ofcoffee, whilst the girl forced herself to eat, having already realizedthat the welfare of both of them for the time being depended upon herand upon her strength. When the meal was ended, she found his pipe, charged it for him, and procured him a light, and with a murmur ofthanks, Stane began to smoke. 

From where he lay, through the open tent-fly, he could see a portion ofthe windfall barrier which had been the cause of the disaster. 

"I thought I was done for, " he said as he looked towards the tangledtrunks. "I slipped and plunged right into a sort of crevasse, didn'tI?"

"Yes, " answered Helen quietly. "It was a little time before I couldfind you. There was a kind of den made by crossed trunks, and you hadslipped between them into it. "

"How did you manage to get me out?" he asked, his eyes on the amazingjumble of trunks and branches. 

"Well, " was the reply, given with a little laugh, "as I told you thismorning I am fairly strong. But it was a hard task for all that. I hadto cut away quite a number of interlacing branches, and hoist you outof the crevasse with the pack ropes, then slide you down the deadfallas best I could. It took me a full hour to get you clear of the treesand safely to the ground, and all the time I was oppressed with thethought that you were dead, or would die before I could do anything torecover you. When I got you to the ground, I went through your pack andfound the brandy which I saw you place there this morning. The rest youknow. "

Stane looked at her with eyes that glowed with admiration. "You make ita little thing, " he said gratefully, "but I know what it means. Youhave saved my life, Miss Yardely. "

The girl flushed crimson, and then laughed a little to hide herembarrassment. "Oh, as to that--we are quits, Mr. Stane. "

"Not quite, " he said quietly. 

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. 

"Well, " he answered, speaking slowly and considering every word, "I amtied here for some time--for weeks certainly. I can't move and I can'tbe moved. You----"

"I!" she interrupted sharply. "I shall remain here. I shall nurse you. There is nothing else to be done. I could not go forward a mile in thiswilderness of trees without being lost; and I certainly couldn't findmy way back to the river--even if I wanted to. "

"But your uncle and friends. They will be looking for you, they willthink you are lost. "

"There's no help for that, " she answered resolutely. "You will be ableto do nothing for yourself. As you said just now you are tied here forweeks; and I am tied with you. There is simply nothing else for it. Youwere at my service when I needed you, and I am at your service now thatyou need me. I think that is all that need be said. "

"Perhaps some wandering Indian may show up, " he said meditatively. "Then----"

"I shall refuse to leave you before you are well, " replied Helen with alittle laugh. "You are my patient, Mr. Stane--the very first that Ihave had the chance of practising on; and you don't suppose I am goingto surrender the privilege that fate has given me? No! If my unclehimself showed up at this moment, I should refuse to leave you until Isaw how my amateur bone-setting turned out. So there! That is myultimatum, sir. "

There was an almost merry note in her voice, but there was a note ofresolve also; and Stane's gratitude and admiration increased. He lookedat her with grateful eyes. Her face was rosy, her eyes were bright withlaughter, though they turned away in some confusion as they met his. 

"You are a very noble----"

"Oh, " she interrupted quickly, her face taking a deeper hue. "You donot know me yet. You haven't seen me at my worst. You don't know howcatty I can feel sometimes. Wait until you do, and then you can deliverjudgment. "

She ended with laughter, and rose from her seat as if to leave thetent; seeing which Stane spoke quickly. 

"Whatever the worst or best of you may be, I am happy to be in yourhands!"

"Just wait until I have shown my claws, " she said over her shoulder, asshe passed outside. 

Stane lay quite still with a very thoughtful look in his eyes. Outsidehe could hear her moving about, singing softly to herself. He caught aline or two, and his memory instantly supplied the rest. 

 "Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither; Here shall we see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. "

He smiled to himself, and a soft look came into his eyes. The girl wasmaking a jest of a situation that would have appalled multitudes of herover-civilized sisters, and he marvelled at her courage. The glow inhis eyes grew brighter as he stared into vacancy. Some day-dreamsoftened the stern lines in his face, and for a few minutes the spellof it held him. Then suddenly he frowned, and a little harsh laughbroke from his lips. 

"You fool!" he whispered to himself. "You fool!"

A moment later the girl entered the tent again. In her hand she carrieda rather decrepit hussif and a hank of strong linen thread. She heldthem down for him to see. 

"I am making free with your possessions, Mr. Stane, but there's no helpfor it. I simply must repair these rags of mine. "

He looked at her and noticed for the first time that her blouse wasbadly torn. Half of one sleeve was ripped away, and there was a longtear through which he caught the gleam of a white shoulder. Her skirthe saw was in no better case. She caught his glance and laughed. 

"I'm a perfect Cinderella! It will take me hours to sew up theserents. "

"Do you think it is worth while?" he asked with a faint smile. "I'm notmuch of a tailor myself; and I should look at that job as wastedeffort. "

"But what else can I do?" she demanded. "I can't get in a taxi and rundown to Bond Street on a shopping expedition. "

"No, " he answered slowly, "but you might look in the pack you carriedtoday. There's a habit there that is better suited to the woods thanthe one you have. "

"Oh!" she cried, her grey eyes alight with laughter, and a little flushin her cheeks. "You brought it along then?"

"I put it in your pack, because I knew that two days of trail in theforest would reduce your present costume to shreds. "

She eyed the hussif distastefully. "I hate sewing, " she said. "I thinkI will leave the repairs till morning. There is no immediate hurry thatI know of. "

"Not at all, " he answered with a little smile, and divining that hisadvice would be accepted he turned to a fresh subject. "Where are yougoing to sleep? You ought not to have given me the tent. "

She waved a hand airily. "Outside. There isn't much room here. LikeR. L. S. Sleeping out with his donkey I shall discover a new pleasurefor myself. "

A quick light leaped in Stane's eyes and a smile came on his wan face. 

"What are you smiling at?" demanded the girl laughingly. But he did nottell her how his mind had recalled the context of the passage she hadreferred to, a passage which declared that to live out of doors withthe woman a man loves is of all lives the most complete and free. Hisreply was a mere evasion. 

"I am afraid you will find it an exaggerated pleasure, Miss Yardely. "

"Then it will be strictly for one night only, " she said. "Tomorrow Ishall build a shack of boughs and bark like one I watched an Indianbuilding, down on the Peace river. It will be exhilarating to bearchitect and builder and tenant all in one! But for tonight it is'God's green caravanserai' for me, and I hope there won't be anytrespassers, wolves or bears and such-like beasts. "

"There may be mice!" laughed Stane. 

"Mice!" A look of mock-horror came on her face. "I'm mortally afraid ofmice!"

"And Meeko may pay you a visit. "

"The Lord have mercy on me! Who is Meeko?"

"Meeko is the red squirrel. He abounds in these woods and his Indianname means the mischief-maker. "

"I adore squirrels, " laughed Helen. 

"Upweekis will be away just now, so he won't disturb you with hisscreeching. "

"And who may Upweekis be?"

"The lynx! He will have gone to the burned lands after the rabbits forthe summer-hunting. "

"Anything else on the forest visiting-list?" asked the girl merrily. 

"Kookooskoss, the owl may hail you. "

"Pooh! Who's afraid of owls?"

She laughed again, and then grew suddenly grave. "But we are talkingtoo much, " she said quickly. "There is a little-too-bright colour inyour face. I think you had better try to sleep. I shall be just outsidethe tent, and if there is anything you need you must call me. Goodnight, Mr. Stane. In spite of the forest folk, I expect I shall sleeplike a top. "

"Good night, Miss Yardely. "

The girl went outside, and after sitting for quite a long time lookingin the fire, retired to the couch of spruce which she had prepared forherself, and almost instantly fell asleep. 

Four hours afterwards she awakened suddenly and looked around her. Arosy glow through the trees proclaimed the dawn. The forest waswonderfully still, and there seemed no reason whatever for the suddenawakening. Then a stream of meaningless babble came through the canvaswall of the tent. She sat up instantly, and listened. Plainly, thepatient was delirious, and the sound of his delirious babble must havebroken through her sleep. Three minutes later she was inside the tent, her brow puckered with anxiety. 

Stane lay there with flushed face, and wide-open eyes that glitteredwith a feverish light. He took absolutely no notice of her entrance andit was clear that for the present he was beyond all recognition of her. She looked at him in dismay. For the moment he was quiet, but whilstshe still stood wondering what she should do, the delirium broke outagain, a mere babble of words without meaning, some English, someIndian, in which she found only two that for her had any significance. One was Gerald Ainley's name, and the other the name of the beautifulIndian girl whom she had seen talking with the sick man down at FortMalsun--Miskodeed. 

Her face flushed as she recognized it, and a little look of resentmentcame in her eyes. She remembered what Ainley had hinted at about Staneand Miskodeed, and what others had plainly thought; and as she stoodthere it seemed almost an offence to her that the name should bementioned to her even in the unconsciousness of delirium. Then she gavea hard little laugh at herself, and going outside once more, presentlyreturned with water and with a couple of handkerchiefs taken from thesick man's pack. 

She poured a few drops between his lips, and then after laving hisface, she laid one of the wet handkerchiefs on his brow, renewing it, from time to time, in order to cool his head. After a little time thebabble ceased, the restlessness passed away, and his eyes closed innatural slumber. Seated on the ground, she still watched him, her facethe index of troublesome thoughts; but after a little time, she beganto nod, her chin dropped to her chest, and she fell into a profoundsleep. 

"Miss Yardely! Miss Yardely!"

Stane's voice awakened her two hours and a half later. She looked roundin some bewilderment, and as her eyes saw his tired, white face, shestarted up. 

"I am afraid I must have fallen asleep, " she began hurriedly. "I----"

"Have you been watching me all night?" he asked in a rather weak voice. 

"No, not all night, " she protested. "I awoke outside a little time ago, and heard you talking deliriously. I came in the tent to do what Icould, and then seated myself to watch. I must have been very tiredor----"

"Please, please, Miss Yardely. You must not reproach yourself. I cannotallow it! I blame myself for giving you so much trouble. "

"How do you feel?" asked Helen, changing the subject. 

"Rather groggy, " he replied with a poor attempt at gaiety. 

She stretched a hand and took his. The palm was moist. 

"Ah, " she said. "You feel weak no doubt, but the fever has left you. Iwill go and attend to the fire and prepare breakfast. "

She turned a little abruptly and left the tent, and Stane looked afterher with frowning eyes. Something had gone wrong. There was an air ofaloofness and austerity about her that had not been there yesterday, and she had spoken in formal terms that had nothing of the camaraderiewhich had characterized their acquaintance until now. He could notunderstand it; in no way could he account for it; and he lay therepuzzling over the matter and listening to the sound of her movementsoutside. Never for a single moment did it enter his mind that thedaughter of civilization was jealous of that daughter of the wildswhose name he had uttered in the unconsciousness of delirious hours. Nor did it enter the mind of Helen herself. As she recalled the nameshe had heard on his lips in the night, whilst she busied herself withunaccustomed tasks, the feeling of resentment that was strong withinher, to her appeared a natural feeling due to a sense of outraged_convenances_ when in reality it had its origin in the strongest anddeepest of primal passions. 

CHAPTER X

A CANOE COMES AND GOES

Lying on his back, his head pillowed on a rolled-up blanket, HubertStane became aware that the sound of the girl's movements had ceased. He wondered where she had gone to, for it seemed clear to him that shehad left the camp, and as the time passed without any sound indicatingher presence he began to feel alarmed. She was unused to the woods, itwould be easy for her to lose herself and if she did----

Before the thought was completed he heard the sound of a snappingstick, and knew that she had returned. He smiled with relief and waitedfor her appearance, but a few minutes passed before she entered thetent, bearing in her hand a tin cup. He looked at her inquiringly. 

"What have you there, Miss Yardely?"

"Balsam, " was the reply, "for the cut upon your head. It is rather abad one, and balsam is good for healing. "

"But where did you get it?"

"From I forget how many trees. There are quite a number of themhereabouts. "

"I didn't know you knew so much of wood lore, " he said smilingly. 

"I don't, " she retorted, quickly. "I am very ignorant of the thingsthat really matter up here. I suppose that balsam would have been thevery first thing an Indian girl would have thought of, and would havesearched for and applied at once, but I only thought of it thismorning. You see one of my uncle's men had a little accident, and anIndian went out to gather the gum. I happened to see him pricking theblisters on the trees and gathering the gum in a dish and I inquiredwhy he was doing it. He explained to me, and this morning when I sawthe cut, it suddenly came to me that if I could find balsam in theneighbourhood it would be helpful. And here it is, and now with yourpermission I will apply it. "

"I wonder I never thought of it myself, " he answered with a smile. "Itis a very healing ungent. Apply to your heart's content, Miss Yardely. "

Deftly, with gentle fingers, the girl applied the balsam and then boundthe wound with a strip of linen torn from a handkerchief. When theoperation was finished, still kneeling beside him, she leaned back onher heels to survey the result. 

"It looks quite professional, " she said; "there isn't an Indian girl inthe North could have done it better. "

"There isn't one who could have done it half as well, " he answered witha laugh. 

"Are you sure?" she asked quickly. "How about Miskodeed?"

"Miskodeed?" he looked at her wonderingly. 

"Yes, that beautiful Indian girl I saw you talking with up at FortMalsun. "

Stane laughed easily. "I know nothing whatever about her capacity as ahealer, " he said. "I have only spoken to her on two occasions, and onneither of them did we discuss wounds or the healing of them. "

"Then----" she began, and broke off in sudden confusion. 

He looked at her in some surprise. There was a look on her face that hecould not understand, a look of mingled gladness and relief. 

"Yes?" he asked inquiringly. "You were about to say--what?"

"I was about to say the girl was a comparative stranger to you!"

"Quite correct, " he replied. "Though she proved herself a friend on thenight I was kidnapped, for I saw her running through the bushes towardsmy tent, and she cried out to warn me, just as I was struck. "

"If she knew that you were to be attacked she ought to have warned youbefore, " commented Helen severely. 

"Perhaps she had only just made the discovery or possibly she had notbeen able to find an opportunity. "

"She ought to have made one, " was the answer in uncompromising tones. "Any proper-spirited girl would have done. "

Stane did not pursue the argument, and a moment later his companionasked: "Do you think her pretty?"

"That is hardly the word for Miskodeed, " answered Stane. "'Pretty' hasan ineffective sort of sound, and doesn't describe her quality. She isbeautiful with the wild beauty of the wilds. I never saw an Indian girlapproaching her before. "

Helen Yardely frowned at the frank enthusiasm with which he spoke. 

"Wild? Yes, " she said disparagingly. "That is the word. She is just asavage, with, I suppose, a savage's mind. Her beauty is--well, thebeauty of the wilds as you say. It is barbaric. There are other formsof beauty that----"

She broke off abruptly, and the blood ran rosily in her face. Stane sawit and smiled. 

"Yes, " he answered gaily. "That is true. And I think that, howeverbeautiful Miskodeed may be, or others like her, their beauty cannotcompare with that of English women. "

"You think that?" she cried, and then laughed with sudden gaiety as sherose to her feet. "But this is not a debating class, and I've work todo--a house to build, a meal to cook--a hundred tasks appealing to anamateur. I must go, Mr. Stane, and if you are a wise man you willsleep. "

She left the tent immediately, and as he lay there thinking over theconversation, Stane caught the sound of her voice. She was singingagain. He gave a little smile at her sudden gaiety. Evidently she hadrecovered from the mood of the early morning, and as he listened to thesong, his eyes glowed with admiration. She was, he told himself, inunstinted praise, a girl of a thousand, accepting a rather desperatesituation with light heart; and facing the difficulties of it with acourage altogether admirable. She was no helpless bread-and-butter missto fall into despair when jerked out of her accustomed groove. ThankHeaven for that! As he looked down at his injured leg he shuddered tothink what would have been the situation if she had been, for he knewthat for the time being he was completely in her hands; and rejoicedthat they were hands so evidently capable. 

Then he fell to thinking over the situation. They would be tied downwhere they were for some weeks, and if care was not exercised theproblem of food would grow acute. He must warn her to ration the foodand to eke it out. His thought was interrupted by her appearance at thetent door. She held in her hand a fishing line that he had purchased atthe Post and a packet of hooks. 

"I go a-fishing, " she cried gaily. "Wish me luck?"

"Good hunting!" he laughed back. "I hope there is fish in the stream. "

"Herds! Flocks! Coveys! Schools! What you like. I saw them when I washunting for the balsam. "

"That is fortunate, " he said quietly. "You know, Miss Yardely, we mayhave to depend on fin and feather for food. The stores I brought wereonly meant to last until I could deliver you to your uncle. We shallhave to economize. "

"I have thought of that, " she said with a little nod. "I have beencarefully through the provisions. But we will make them last, neverfear! You don't know what a Diana I am. " She smiled again, andwithdrew, and an hour later returned with a string of fish which sheexhibited with pride. "The water is full of them, " she said. "And I'vediscovered something. A little way from here the stream empties into asmall lake which simply swarms with wild fowl. There is no fear of usstarving!"

"Can you shoot?" he inquired. 

"I have killed driven grouse in Scotland, " she answered with a smile. "But I suppose ammunition is valuable up here, and I'm going to try thepoacher's way. "

"The poacher's way?"

"Yes. Snares! There is a roll of copper wire in your pack. I've watcheda warrener at home making rabbit snares, and as there's no particularmystery about the art, and those birds are so unsophisticated, I shallbe sure to get some. You see if I don't. But first I must build myhouse. The open sky is all very well, but it might come on to rain, andthen the roofless caravanserai would not be very comfortable. It is agood thing we brought an ax along. "

She turned away, and after perhaps half an hour he caught the sound ofan ax at work in the wood a little way from the tent. The sound reachedhim intermittently for some time, and then ceased; and after a fewminutes there came a further sound of burdened steps, followed by thatof poles tossed on the ground close to the tent. Then the girl lookedin on him. Her face was flushed with her exertions, her forehead wasbedewed with a fine sweat, her hair was tumbled and awry, and henoticed instantly that she had changed her torn blouse and skirt forthe clothing which his foresight had burdened her pack with. The greyflannel shirt was a little open at the neck, revealing the beautifulroundness of her throat, the sleeves of it were rolled up above theelbows after the work-man-like fashion of a lumberman, and showed apair of forearms, white and strong. His eyes kindled as he looked onher. 

She was radiantly beautiful and strong, he thought to himself, a fitmate for any man who loved strength and beauty in a woman, rather thanprettiness and softness, and his admiration found sudden vent in words. 

"Miss Yardely, you are wonderful!"

The colour in her face deepened suddenly, and there was a quickbrightening in her grey eyes. 

"You think so?" she cried laughing in some confusion. 

"I certainly do!" he answered fervently. 

"Why?" she demanded. 

"Well, " he replied quickly, and not uttering what had been in her mind, "you adapt yourself to difficult circumstances so easily. I don't knowanother girl in the world who would so cheerfully do what you aredoing. "

"Oh, " she retorted gaily, "needs must when the devil drives! But wasthat all you were thinking?"

She knew it was not, for she had seen the look in his eyes, and herquestion was recklessly provocative and challenging. She knew it wassuch as she had flung it at him; and Hubert Stane knew too. His faceflushed, his heart pounded wildly; and for a moment there was a surgingdesire to tell her what he really had been thinking. The next moment heput the temptation from him. 

"No, " he answered with an attempt at laughter, "but the rest is not forpublication. "

There was a little tremor in his voice as he spoke which Helen Yardelydid not fail to notice. For a moment she stood there undecided. She wasconscious of an uplift of spirit for which there appeared no validreason, and she visioned opening out before her a way of life that aweek ago she had never even dreamed of. Three days in the solitude ofthe wilderness with Hubert Stane had brought her closer to him than anacquaintance of years could have done, and she was aware of wildimpulses in her heart. As she stood there she was half-inclined thenand there to challenge fate, and to force from him the words that hewithheld. Then, with a great effort, she checked the surging impulses, and gave a tremulous laugh. 

"That is too bad of you, " she cried. "The unpublished thoughts arealways the most interesting ones. .. . But I must away to myhouse-building or I shall have to spend another night under the stars. "

She turned and walked abruptly away. In her eyes as she went was ajoyous light, and her heart was gay. As she swung the ax upon hershoulder and moved towards the trees she broke into song, the words ofwhich reached Stane:

 "It was a lover and his lass With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green cornfield did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding, Sweet lovers love the Spring. "

He lay there beating out the melody with his fingers. A musing lookcame in his eyes that remained there when once more the sound of her axcame through the forest stillness. Then it died away and his face grewgrim. 

"It's nonsense, the merest madness!" he whispered to himself. "And evenif it were not--a man can't take advantage of such circumstances. Itwould be too caddish for words----"

For a long time he lay there listening to the sound of her movements, which told him when she was near and when further away, and presentlyhe heard her fixing the lean-to of her improvised hut. She workedsteadily, sometimes singing to herself, but she did not enter the tentagain until noon, when she came in to inquire if he were comfortableand to say that a meal would be ready shortly. 

"How does the hut go?" he asked. 

"Oh, finely!" she cried with enthusiasm. "The framework is up, thoughI've used all the pack-ropes over the job. I wish I had some nails. I'msure I could drive them straight. "

"I'm sure you could, " he replied laughingly. 

"Girls are not nearly so incapable as they let men make them out to be. I never built a house before, but I am sure this one of mine is goingto be a success. After we have eaten I am going to look for birch-barkto make the covering, but there's one thing that is worrying me. "

"What is that?" he asked. 

"I am wondering how to fasten the bark together. I shall have to get itin strips, I know, and the strips will have to be sewn together. I knowthat, but the question is--how? If I had stout twine and a packingneedle it would be easy, but----"

"It is still easy, " he interrupted. "You will have to get the roots ofthe white spruce, and sew with that, as a cobbler sews, using a knifefor awl. "

"Oh, " she laughed, "I never thought of that, and it is so simple. Ishall manage all right now. "

After the meal of fish and beans and coffee, she disappeared once more, and later he heard her busy outside again. From the sounds he judgedthat she had found the bark and the other materials that she needed, and was busy sewing the covering for her tepee, and presently he heardher fixing it. The operation seemed to take quite a long time and wasevidently troublesome, for once or twice sounds of vexation reached himand once he heard her cry roundly: "Confound the thing!"

He laughed silently to himself at the heartiness of her expression, then wished that he could go out and help her; but as he could not, andas she did not come to him in her difficulty he refrained from askingwhat the difficulty was, and from offering advice. Half an hour latershe stood in the tent doorway, flushed but triumphant. 

"Finished, " she cried, "and Sir Christopher Wren was never more proudthan I am. "

"I should like to see your castle, " laughed Stane. 

"You shall, sir, " she cried gaily. "You shall. I will lift the canvasof the tent that you may feast your eyes on my handiwork. "

A moment later she was busy rolling up the canvas at one side of thetent, and presently he found himself looking out on a very fairimitation of an Indian hunting tepee. He gave the work his ungrudgingadmiration. 

"It is a very creditable piece of work, Miss Yardely. "

"Yes, " she responded lightly, "and I'm not going to pretend that I'mnot proud of it. I am, and having done that, I don't think RobinsonCrusoe was so very wonderful after all! I think that I could havemanaged as well as he did on his desert island. But here's a fanfare onmy own trumpet! And I've work yet to do, and I must do it before mydoll's house goes completely to my head. "

She dropped the canvas of the tent, fastened it into its place, andthen proceeded to arrange a bed of young spruce boughs for herself. That done to her satisfaction, she prepared the last meal of the dayand then in the stillness of the bright Northland evening, she went offtowards the lake she had discovered in the morning, with the intentionof setting the snare that she had spoken of. 

But she did not do so that night, for before she came in sight of itshe was aware of an alarmed clamour of the water-fowl, and wonderingwhat was the cause of it, she made her approach with caution. Thestream, which she had followed fell over a small cliff to the shore ofthe lake and as she reached the head of the fall she became aware oftwo men beaching a canoe. Instantly she slipped behind a tree, and fromthis point of vantage looked again. The men had lifted the canoe clearof the water and were now standing upright with their faces to her nottwenty-five yards from the place of her concealment. On this secondglance she recognized them instantly. One of the men was Gerald Ainleyand the other was the Indian, Joe. 

For a moment she stood there without moving, then very cautiously shedrew back into the wood behind her, and gradually worked her way to aplace along the lakeside where the undergrowth was very thick, andwhere she could watch without fear of discovery. She was less than aquarter of a mile away from the place where the two had landed, and asshe watched them making camp, the smell of their fire was blown acrossto her. Neither of the two travellers showed any disposition to leavethe lakeside, and she watched them for quite a long time, a look ofdeep perplexity on her face. 

They were friends! She had no doubt that they were looking for herself. They represented ease and safety, and a quick return to the amenitiesof civilization, but she had no desire to discover herself to them. Shethought of the injured man lying in the tent a mile away. It waspossible that the coming of these two, if she made her presence known, might prove to be beneficial for him. She weighed that side of thematter very carefully, and her eyes turned to the canoe in which themen travelled. It was, she recognized, too small to carry four people, one of whom would have to lie at length in it; and she knewinstinctively that Ainley would propose to leave the Indian behind tolook after Stane whilst he took her back to her uncle. And she wasconscious of a surprising aversion to any such course; aware that shewas satisfied with things as they were. She crouched there for quite along time, then a whimsical smile came on her face, and without aregret she crept quietly away through the forest, leaving the twosearchers unaware of her presence. 

When she reached the encampment she looked into the hut and found thatStane was fast asleep. She smiled to herself, and instead ofreplenishing the failing fire, carefully extinguished it with earth, that neither the glare nor the smoke of it might reach the twosearchers and so lead to the discovery of the camp. Then, having doneall she could to ensure Stane and herself remaining undisturbed intheir wilderness seclusion, she looked in the tent again, smiled oncemore, and dropping the fly of the tent, went to her own tepee. Thoughshe lay long awake, she was up betimes next morning, and after oneglance into the tent to assure herself that her patient was yetsleeping, she moved off in the direction of the lake. When she came insight of it she looked towards the foot of the waterfall for Ainley'scamp. It was no longer there, but a mile and a half away she descriedthe canoe making down the lake. As she did so, she laughed with suddenrelief and gladness, and hurried back to the camp to light the fire andprepare breakfast. 

CHAPTER XI

A FOREST FIRE

Sir James Yardely sat in the shelter of his tent looking anxiously atGerald Ainley. 

"Then you have not found my niece, Ainley?"

"No, Sir James! But I have news of her, and I am assured she is alive. "

"Tell me what gives you that assurance. "

Ainley thereupon described the search he had made, and produced theswastiki brooch, explaining the circumstances under which he had foundit, and then gave an account of the meeting with the half-breed and ofthe latter's declaration that he had seen Helen going up the main riverin a canoe with a white man. 

"But why on earth should Helen go up there?" asked Sir Jameswonderingly. 

"I cannot say, Sir James! I can only guess, and that is that MissYardely knew that we were making for the old Fort Winagog, andmentioned it to her rescuer who was probably journeying that way. Anyhow I went up to the Fort. The Indians there had not seen nor heardof any white girl in the neighbourhood, but I gave them instructions tolook for her, promising a reward if she were found, then I hurried backhere by the shorter route in the hope that possibly Miss Yardely mighthave returned in the meantime. "

Sir James stared through the tent-door at the wild landscape beforehim. His face showed a lightening of his anxiety, though it was clearthat the turn of events puzzled him. 

"I can't understand it, " he said. "Why shouldn't Helen have made herway straight back here?"

"Can't say, Sir James! Possibly the man who helped her doesn't know thecountry, and of course Miss Yardely is quite ignorant of it. "

"And here she is, lost in the wilderness, careering round the compasswith heaven knows what come-by-chance fellow!" commented Sir James, adding quickly, "Ainley, she has got to be found!"

"Yes, Sir James!"

"This unfortunate affair has upset me. It has quite disarranged myplans. We have lost five days here, and I shall be compelled to curtailmy journey. I have decided to cut out the visits to the posts north ofthis, and to work across to the Peace River, and so southward. "

"You are going back?" cried Ainley in some consternation. "You aregoing to leave Miss Yardely----"

"No, my dear fellow, " interrupted Sir James, anticipating theconclusion of his subordinate's sentence. "I am not going to leave herto her fate. I am going to leave you to find her. I have thought thematter out very carefully. I shall leave four Indians with you, andshall establish a camp at this point, so that in the event of Helenreturning here you will not miss her by any chance. I shall send amessenger to Rodwell, at Fort Malsun, instructing him to send you downan outfit that will last the winter if necessary, and you will have_carte blanche_ to follow your own plans, only you must understand, Ainley, my niece must be found. Even though you have to comb thiscountry through with a dust-comb she must be found. "

"She shall be, Sir James, " answered Ainley with conviction. 

"It is, of course, just possible that the man with whom your half-breedsaw her was making north to the post at Lobstick Creek, and it will beas well to make an early inquiry there. "

"Yes, Sir James, I have thought of that. "

"By the way, did you get any description of the man whom my niece waswith?"

"Yes. You remember that man who was at Fort Malsun, and who departedquietly one night?"

"You mean that fellow whom you knew at Oxford, and who has since goneunder?"

"That is the man, Sir James; I am convinced of it, from thehalf-breed's description. "

A look of anxiety came on the great man's face. "A discharged convict, wasn't he, Ainley?"

"Yes, Sir James. He is of good family, and I fancy he is wealthy, forhe succeeded to the estate whilst he was in prison, and came out here Iimagine, because the old country was impossible to him. "

"What was the crime that knocked him out of things?"

"Forgery!"

"Um!" was the reply. "Things might have been worse. Possibly the fellowwill remember that he used to be a gentleman. "

"Possibly, " agreed the younger man. 

"Anyhow, you know exactly who you have to look for and that ought tomake your task much easier. Rodwell will instruct all the Indians whoshow up at Fort Malsun to keep a bright look-out and no doubt in a fewdays you will get track of her. But as I said just now, she must befound, at all costs she must be found!"

"Yes, Sir James! I shall spare no effort to that end, and I may saythat, if possible, I am even more anxious about her than you. "

A half-smile came on the great man's face, as he nodded: "I understand, Ainley; I am not blind. It was for that reason I decided that youshould have charge of the search-party, seeing that you have--er--extrainducements. Find my niece, bring her back to me, and then we can talkover the matter. And now you had better go and think out your planscarefully. I shall have to leave here in the morning, but now that Iknow Helen is alive, I shall go with a comparatively easy heart. "

Gerald Ainley went to his own tent with a smile on his face. For thefurtherance of his ultimate plans things could scarcely have fallen outbetter. It was true that Helen yet remained to be found; but he was tobe left to find her, and was to have a free hand in the matter. After aweek or two in the wilderness Helen would be glad enough to meet withan old friend bringing deliverance, and the intimacy of daily traveltogether would inevitably bring her to his arms. His brow darkened alittle as he thought of her present protector. Then it cleared again. Helen was very proud. Circumstances for the present had thrown her intoStane's company, but she was the last person in the world to forgetthat Stane was an ex-convict, and as he thought of that, allapprehension of possible complications in that quarter vanishedinstantly. 

Had he known all, or had he even at that moment been granted a visionof the camp by the great deadfall, he would scarcely have been socomplacent of mind. For at the very time when he was congratulatinghimself on the opportunity opening out before him, Helen Yardely wasseated on a log by the side of the man whom he hated. There was a highcolour in her face and she was laughing a little nervously as shelooked at the astonished face of the sick man who had been her rescuerand was now her patient. 

"Miss Yardely, " cried Stane, "do you really mean what you say?"

"Of course I do, " replied the girl lightly. 

"And Gerald Ainley with another man camped within two miles of here twonights ago?"

"I should say the distance to the lake is even less than that, " repliedHelen with a little laugh. 

"And you let them go without a sign. "

"I hid myself in the bushes, " replied the girl, gaily. 

"But do you realize that they were probably, searching for you?"

"Yes! And I was afraid that they might find me. I even put out the firethat they should not discover our camp and come up to investigate. WhenI saw them going away yestermorning I could have clapped my hands forgladness. "

Stane looked at her incredulously. Here was something that was beyondhim. 

"Why--why did you let them go?" he cried sharply. 

"You wish I had revealed myself?" she asked with compunction, misunderstanding his question. "You think I ought to have brought themup here?"

"That was for yourself to decide, " he answered quietly, adding with alittle laugh. "I am well content with things as they are. But I amcurious to know why you let deliverance from the hardships of thissituation pass by on the other side. "

"Oh, " replied Helen in some confusion, "I remembered that you did notlike Gerald Ainley!"

"But, " he protested, "there was yourself to think of. "

"Yes, " was the reply, given with laughter, "and I was doing so--if youonly knew it. "

"How? I cannot see it. "

"You forget my pride as amateur surgeon and nurse, " she retorted. "Ilike to see the end of things that I begin, and if I had brought Mr. Ainley up here he would have wanted to take me away, and leave you withthe Indian. " She broke off, and looked at him with a gay smile. "Perhaps you would have preferred----"

"No! No!" he interrupted protestingly. 

"And there is another reason--quite as selfish as the last. You see, Mr. Stane, I have been delicately reared; boarding-school, Newnham--theusual round you know! London in the season, Scotland in the autumn, andthe shires for the hunting months. It is an inane sort of life, as Ihave always felt, pleasant enough at first, but inane for all that, andafter a time rather a bore. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, " he said, with a nod, "I think I can. "

"Most of the men of our set have something to do! Either they are inthe army, or in Parliament, or managing estates, but the women--well, they live a butterfly life. There seems to me no escape for them. Dowhat they will, unless they become suffragettes and smash windows orsmack fat policemen, their life drifts one way. Charity?--it ends in acharity ball. Politics?--it means just garden-parties or stodgyweek-ends at country houses, with a little absurd canvassing of rurallabourers at election times. Sometimes I used to consider it, and withthat bus-driver of Stevenson's who drove to the station and then droveback, cry 'My God is this life!' There was nothing real anywhere. Nobody ever expected a woman in our set to do anything worth doing. "She broke off, and gave a little laugh, then continued: "Now I have mychance to prove I'm something better than a doll, and I'm not going tobe robbed of it by Gerald Ainley, my uncle, or any one else! This campdepends on me for a time at least, and I'm going to make good; andprove myself for my own satisfaction. Do you understand?"

"Yes, " answered Stane, his eyes shining with admiration. 

"That is what I meant when I said that if you only knew it, I wasthinking of myself. It would strike some people as a little mad. I knowsome women who in a situation like this would have sat down and justcried themselves to death. "

"So do I. Lots of them. "

"I don't feel that way. I feel rather like a man I know at home who wasbrought up on the sheltered life system, nursery governess, privatetutor, etc. , who when he came of age just ran amok, drank, fought withthe colliers on his own estate, and then enlisted in an irregular corpsand went to fight the Spaniards in Cuba, just to prove to himself thathe wasn't the ninny his father had tried to make him. He shocked hisneighbours thoroughly, but he's a man today, listened to when he speaksand just adored by the miners on his estate. .. . I want to make good, and though Mrs. Grundy would chatter if she knew that I haddeliberately chosen to remain and nurse a sick man in such conditions, I don't care a jot. "

"You needn't worry about Mrs. Grundy, " he laughed. "She died up hereabout 1898, and was buried on the road to the Klondyke. "

Helen Yardely joined in his laughter. "May she never beresurrected--though I am afraid she will be. Where there arehalf-a-dozen conventional women Mrs. Grundy is always in the midst. ButI'm free of her for the time, and I'm just going to live the primitivelife whilst I'm here. I feel that I have got it in me to enjoy the lifeof the woods, and to endure hardships like any daughter of the land, and I'm going to do it. Not that there is much hardship about it now!It is just an extended pic-nic, and I wouldn't have missed it foranything. "

Stane smiled. "I am very glad you feel like that, " he said. "I myselfshall be much happier in mind and I count myself lucky to have fallenin such capable hands!"

"Capable!" she looked at her scratched and rather grimy hands. "Akitchen-maid's are more capable! But I can learn, and I will, howevermuch I bungle. Now, as the universal provider, I am going out to lookat my snares. "

She rose, and left the tent, and he heard her pass into the woodsinging to herself. A thoughtful look came on Stane's face, andpresently gave place to a smile. "Happy in these circumstances!" hemurmured to himself. "What a treasure of a girl!"

And there was no question that Helen Yardely was happy. She radiatedgladness as she made her way towards the lake carrying an express riflein the crook of her arm. Except for the barking of squirrels, and thedistant cry of waterfowl the land was very still, the silence that ofan immense solitude. But it affected her not at all, she was not evenconscious of loneliness, and she hummed gaily to herself as she wentalong the path which now was beginning to define itself. 

As she reached the lakeside, however, her song was suddenly checked, and she looked round sniffing the air thoughtfully. There was a firesomewhere, for there was the smell of burning spruce in the atmosphere. She thought of her own camp-fire, and looked back in the direction ofit. Never before had the aromatic odour reached her so far away, andshe was a little puzzled that it should do so now. There was littlemovement in the air, and in order to discover the direction of it shewet her hand and held it up, and as one side grew cooler than theother, looked southward. The slight wind was blowing from that quartertowards the camp and not away from it, so it could not be her own fire, which thus filled the air with odour. There was another encampmentsomewhere in the neighbourhood. 

Having reached that conclusion, she looked about her carefully for anyrevealing column of smoke, and found none. She examined the shore ofthe lake expecting to discover a canoe or canoes beached there, butthere was nothing of the sort to be seen. For a time she stood therefrankly puzzled, wondering what was the explanation of the smell offire which was in the air, but the reason for which did not appear. Then, after searching the lake bank once more, she gave up the problemand addressed herself to the task which had brought her from the camp. There was nothing in her snares, but as she approached a large patch ofwater-reeds, a flock of wild geese rose into the air, "honking" inalarm. 

Instantly the rifle was at her shoulder, and as she fired, a ganderjerked in the air, and then fell like a stone back into the reeds. Ittook her some time to retrieve it, and when she had done so, she lookedround again. The sound of her rifle in that great stillness wouldtravel a long way, and if there had been any traveller camped in theneighbourhood he must have heard it! But there was no one to be seenanywhere, though the smell of fire was as strong as ever. Puzzled, shereturned to the camp, looked at her own fire which was burning low andwhich could not possibly be the explanation of that which wasperplexing her, and without saying anything to her companion about it, turned in for the night. 

She awoke early to find a wind humming in the tree-tops and immediatelythere impinged upon her nostrils the odour of burning wood. She roseinstantly and dressing hastily went to the tent and looked in. Stanewas still sleeping, and without awakening him she hurried down to thelakeside, very conscious that the smell of fire was much stronger thanon the previous night. When she reached the shore she looked southwardin the direction from which the wind was blowing. As she did so, forone brief moment her heart seemed to stop and a great fear leaped upwithin her. 

Up the lake-side the shore was hidden under rolling clouds of smoke, the dark green of the woods was shrouded by the same bluish veil, andthe air seemed full of distant crackling. Out of the veil of smoke asshe watched broke a long leaping tongue of yellow flame, and the airblowing towards her seemed hot as a furnace. Her face paled before theterror in front. Though she had never seen the like before, on the wayup to Fort Malsun, she had seen the blackened patches where such fireshad been. She had heard stories of men surprised by them, and she knewthat the forest full of dry deadfall and resinous trees, was on fire. Her first thought was for the sick man who was in her care. The campwas directly in the line of fire, and, if the wind kept up, mustinevitably burn. She would have to get him away. But how?

The question was beating in her brain as she hurried back, and throughthe reiteration of it she became conscious of moving life about her. Aweasel almost crossed her foot without a glance at her, and she sawothers moving in front of her. Small wood-mice swarmed, fleeing fromthe terror they could not see; and a great timber-wolf followed by acouple of cubs fled by without more than a sidelong look. The squirrelin the trees screeched alarm and once she caught sight of a big, darklumbering body crashing through the undergrowth to the left of her, anddivined that it was a bear. All the creatures of the wood had taken thealarm and were fleeing before the fiery horror against which none couldstand. 

When she reached the camp she went straight to the tent. Stane wasawake, lifted up on one elbow, an anxious look upon his face. As hiseyes saw her pallor, he knew that a fear which in the last few momentshad come to him was not groundless. 

"Ah!" he cried, "the timber is on fire! I thought I could smell it. "

"Yes, " she answered, "and the wind is driving the fire this way. "

"How far away?" he inquired calmly. 

"Two or three miles. "

"You will have to go, Miss Yardely, " he answered quickly. "The firetravels quickly in such timber as this. You must not mind me----"

"You want me to run away and leave you to die, " cried the girl. "Ishall do nothing of the kind. I would sooner die myself! I could neverrespect myself again. There must be some way out of this difficulty, only I don't know it. But you are used to the ways of this wilderness. You must tell me what to do, and quickly, and I will do it. Oh--if weonly had a canoe!"

"We haven't, " he answered thoughtfully, "but the next best thing, wecould make, and----"

"What is that?"

"A raft!"

"A raft?" she echoed, hope lighting her face. 

"Yes. If by any means you could get me down to the lake-side, I couldinstruct you in the construction. But how you are going to do that----"

"I shall carry you, " interrupted the girl. "It will be very painful foryou, but there is no other way. "

"But how----?"

"On my back! I am strong, thank Heaven! And as we have no time to wasteI will make arrangements at once. I'll take our things down to theshore, and then come back for you. You don't mind being left for alittle while?"

"Of course not. "

"There'll be no breakfast this morning, but I can't help that. A forestfire is no help to housekeeping. "

She forced a little laugh as she spoke the words, but once outside thetent, a look of deepest anxiety clouded her beautiful face. 

CHAPTER XII

THE RAFT

Never in her life had Helen Yardely worked so hard as she worked in thenext two hours. She made two journeys to the lake with theirpossessions, and on the way back the second time she arranged severalresting places in preparation for the hardest task of all--the carryingof her injured companion down to the shore. 

That, as she knew, was bound to be a terribly painful thing for him, but there was no other way, and harsh necessity made her ruthless. Shedid what she could with an improvised sling, and helped him to stand onhis uninjured leg. The pain he endured was shown in his white face, andin the bitten under lip, which trickled red. She was afraid that he wasabout to faint, but he recovered himself and three-quarters of a minutelater, she was carrying him pick-a-back to the lakeside. 

Twice she heard a groan torn from him, but she set her teeth, andpointed on to the first resting place, where, as gently as she could, she set him on the trunk of a fallen tree which, supported by its underbranches, lay waist high. Then she turned round and looked at Stane. Hewas in a state verging on collapse. Instantly she felt for his servicewater-bottle which she had previously filled with brandy and water, andpouring out some of the liquid she held it towards him. 

"Drink, " she said, "all of it. "

He did so, and when they had rested five minutes, they started againand, after halting twice more, reached the shore, where she set himdown on a convenient rock, below which she had piled blankets tosupport his injured leg. Then for the moment quite overdone, shecollapsed on the sand, one hand on her jumping heart, the other on herthrobbing head. It was a little time before either of them could speak, and it was the man who did so first. 

"Miss Yardely, take a little brandy. I implore you!"

Helen looked up, nodded without speaking, and with shaking hands pouredout a little of the spirit for herself. After a time her breath cameback, and she rose to her feet. 

"You are mortal heavy, " she said with an attempt at gaiety. "You werelike the old man of the sea on my back. .. . I hope your leg is allright?"

"Painful! But that is to be expected, and it can't be helped. " A driftof smoke came down in the wind and made him cough, and he looked roundto mark the progress of the fire. "We haven't much of a margin, MissYardely. "

"No, " she answered, "I must get busy. Now tell me what to do!"

Whilst waiting for her to recover he had noted numerous sun-dried polesscattered about the beach, and those he pointed to. 

"Get about seven of those, Miss Yardely, as near equal length as youcan. Gather them as close to the water's edge as possible, and then getsome saplings for cross pieces. Lash the poles well together with thetent and pack-ropes, and put a little spruce on the top to help us keepdry. We haven't time to build a Noah's Ark, and it will be no end of ajob for you to get the thing afloat by yourself. "

The girl looked round and pointed to a little creek where the water wasvery still. 

"I could build it afloat there. There's a gravelly bottom and it's notdeep. "

"Yes!" he said quickly. "That would be better!"

For an hour he sat there watching her work, and marking the swiftprogress of the fire. The heat grew tremendous, the roar of the flamesand of crackling trees filled the air to the exclusion of all othersounds, and the pungent smoke made it difficult to breathe. He hadbegun to think that after all her endeavours had been in vain, when sheapproached him, sweat running down her flushed face, and drenched wellabove the knees. 

"You will have to set your teeth, " she said, "I shall have to carry youout to the raft. "

It was no easy task to get him on to it, but she had pushed the raftwell in the reeds so that it could not give, and though it was apainful operation for him, he was presently lying on a pile made of thetent canvas and blankets. Ten minutes later when he opened his eyes, they were afloat, and she was poling the raft into deeper water. Shelooked at him as his eyes opened. 

"This raft is not quite so good as a punt--but it might be worse!"

"They're always awkward things, " he said. "You ought to have had asweep. "

"No time, " she answered, with a nod towards the shore. 

"You will have to pole us out, as far as you can, and then we mustdrift. "

"It is the only way, " she agreed. "Fortunately this lake seems veryshallow. "

Ten minutes later the pole failed to touch bottom, and a current ofwater setting across the lake began to drift them well from the shore. As he saw that, Stane gave a sigh of relief. 

"You can sit down and rest now, Miss Yardely. There is nothing furtherto be done for the present. It is a case of time and tide now, but Ithink we are perfectly safe. "

Helen glanced towards the shore, and gave an involuntary shudder. Thefire was running through the forest like a wild beast. Clouds of smoke, black or leaden-coloured rolled in front, the vanguard of thedestroyer, and out of them leaped spouts of fiery sparks, or longtongues of yellow flame, and behind this, the forest under the fan ofthe wind was a glowing furnace. She looked at the belching smoke andthe rocketing flames and listened to the roar of it all, fascinated. 

"How terrible, " she cried, "and how beautiful. "

"The Inferno!" said Stane. "I've seen it before. "

"And you wanted me to leave you to that?" she cried. 

"Pardon me, no! I did not want you to be caught in it, that is all!Listen!"

Across the water came what might have been the sound of a fusillade ofrifles, and with it mingled another sound as of shrieking. 

"What is it?" asked the girl. 

"Branches bursting in the heat, trees falling. "

"How long will it last?"

"Don't know. Weeks maybe! The fire might travel a hundred miles. "

Helen shuddered again. "If we had not been near the water----"

"Finis!" he said with a little laugh, and they fell silent againwatching the awful thing from which they had so narrowly escaped. 

The raft drifted slowly along, borne by a current towards the northernend of the lake and crossing it obliquely, and the girl crouched in herplace apparently absorbed in the spectacle the fire afforded. An hourpassed, and then glancing at her Stane saw that she had fallen asleep. A little smile came on his face, and was followed by an ardent look ofadmiration as he continued to stare at her. She was flushed with sleep, and grimy with sweat and smoke and dirt. The grey shirt-sleeves, rolledup above the elbows, showed her scratched forearms, and on one hand, hanging across her knee in the abandon of sleep, with startlingincongruity gleamed a diamond ring. The beautiful chestnut hair hadescaped from its fastenings, and hung in tumbled masses, and there wereragged tears here and there in the borrowed raiment. Never, thoughtStane to himself, had he seen a lady more dishevelled or morebeautiful, and as he watched her sleeping, worn out with her herculeanlabours, his heart warmed to her in gratitude and love. 

She slept for quite a long time, and when she opened her eyes, shelooked round in surprise. The fire still roared on its way through thewoods on the distant shore, over which hung a huge pall of smoke, butthe raft was now a long way from the zone of destruction and driftingslowly but surely towards the northern end of the lake. She measuredwith her eyes the distance they had drifted, and looked towards theshore which they were steadily approaching, then she spoke. 

"I must have slept for a long time. "

"Three hours, I should say, " answered Stane with a smile. 

"And you? How is your leg?"

"Fairly comfortable, " he answered. 

"I am glad of that, I was terribly afraid that it might have sufferedsome new injury--how hungry I am!"

"Naturally!" was the reply. "It is now past noon and we have not yethad breakfast. "

"There is some cold bacon somewhere, left over from yesterday, and thatsmall box of biscuits. I will find them. We must eat. Fortunately we'renot likely to be short of water. " She laughed a little as she spoke, then rising, began to look for the food, which, when she had found it, she divided between them. "There is not much bacon, but there arebiscuits galore for present needs, " she said as she put the food beforehim. "Fall to, sir!"

She herself ate the simple meal with a relish that surprised herself, and then looked round once more. They had drifted nearer the shore, andlooking overside she could see the bottom of the lake. At that sheclapped her hands. 

"The water is shallowing, " she cried, "I believe I can resume mypunting. "

She took up her pole and finding that she could touch bottom, began topole the raft inshore, and in twenty minutes she was looking for aplace to land. She found it in a quiet little bay beyond a tree-crownedbluff, and in a little time she had beached the clumsy craft, andjumped ashore. She anchored the raft to a tree, and then looked around. Just where she had landed, there was a level patch of sward, backed bymassive firs and, after considering its possibilities for a moment shespoke:

"We will make our new camp here! It will do as well as anywhere else, and in case the fire travels round we can easily take to the lakeagain. "

Her first action was to gather kindling wood for a fire, and to set thekettle over it, and that done, once more she pitched the tent and madea bed for her patient; then with great trouble and some pain for him, she got him from the raft to the spruce couch; after which she examinedthe rough splints and bandages. They were in place and hoping that theleg had suffered no harm through the enforced removal, she prepared hottea and such a meal as their resources allowed. 

"I shall have to build a new house for myself, tomorrow, " she laughedas she sipped the tea. "And I shall insure it against fire. I shall bequite an expert architect and builder by the time I reachcivilization. "

"If you ever do!" he laughed. 

She looked round the wild landscape, then she also laughed. 

"I should not care much if I never did. This sort of life has itsattractions, and it offers real interests and real excitements. Thereare worse things than the wilderness. "

"You have not been up here in winter, have you, Miss Yardely?"

"No, " she replied, "but I should like to have the experience. "

He puffed meditatively at his pipe and made a calculation, then he saidrather enigmatically, "You may yet have the chance, Miss Yardely, ifyou remain to look after me. "

"I certainly shall remain, " was the uncompromising reply. "But what doyou mean, Mr. Stane?"

"Well, " he explained, "it will be some weeks at least before I can facethe trail, and that means that autumn will be on us before we can move. And you have had a little experience of what trailing and packing one'sgoods in this country means. Even when we are able to start we shallnot be able to travel fast, and the nearest point of civilization isFort Malsun. "

"How long will it take us to reach the fort?"

"I do not know, " he replied, shaking his head thoughtfully. "I haveonly been there on the one occasion you know of--and then by water. Much will depend on the sort of country that lies between here andthere, but I am afraid we shall have hard work to make it before winterovertakes us. "

"Then we shall have to make the best of things, " answered the girllightly. 

"There is, of course, the chance that we may be found by somesearch-party sent out by your uncle; and there is the furtherpossibility that we may stumble on some Indian camp; but apart fromthese contingencies, I am afraid we can expect no help but what we canfind in ourselves, and it will be very necessary to husband ourresources, as I warned you two days ago. "

The girl refused to be daunted. "This is a game country, " she repliedcheerfully. "We shall not starve. Tomorrow I shall go hunting--and youwill see, Mr. Stane, oh, you will see! After all it was not for nothingthat I went to Scotland every autumn. I will fill the pot, never fear. "

He looked at her smiling face, remembered what she had already done, and then spoke enthusiastically. 

"I believe you will, Miss Yardely. "

No more was said upon the matter until next day, when whilst she wasengaged in building a new tepee for herself she hurried into the camp, and picked up the rifle. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Meat, " she whispered laughingly, "on four legs and with horns. I don'tknow the precise name of it, but I think it is a woodland caribou. Ithas come down to the water just the other side of the bluff. I am goingto stalk it. "

She hurried away from the camp. Ten minutes passed and Stane stilllistened for her shot. Then it came, and sharp and clear on the heelsof it came a cry of triumph. The injured man smiled with pleasure. 

A few minutes later, when Helen returned, there was a gleeful look uponher face. "Got it!" she cried. "We'll have a change of diet today. "

"You have still plenty of work before you, " said Stane, aftercongratulating her. "The beast will need skinning and----"

"Ugh!" she interrupted with a little grimace. "I know, and that will bemessy work for me, since I know nothing at all about it. "

"It is an inevitable part of the work in trailing through the wilds, "said Stane with a smile. "But I wish I could take the work over----"

"You can't, " she interrupted cheerfully enough, "and if you could I amnot sure I should let you now. I've an ambition to complete mywilderness education, and though I'm no butcher, I'll manage this pieceof work somehow. You will have to give me instructions, and though Imay botch the business, I'll save the meat. Now just give me a lecturein the art of skinning and cleaning and quartering. "

As well as he could he gave her instructions, and armed with his longhunting knife, she presently departed. It was two hours before shereturned, carrying with her a junk of meat wrapped in a portion of theskin. There was a humiliated look on her face. 

"Ask me no questions, " she cried with a little laugh of vexation. "I amdown in the dust, but I've got most of the meat and that is theessential thing, though what we are going to do with all of it I don'tknow. We can't possibly eat it whilst it is fresh. "

"We will dry, and smoke some of it, or turn it into pemmican. "

"Pemmican!" As she echoed the word, her face brightened. "I have readof that, " she laughed, "in novels and tales of adventure. It has aromantic sound. "

"It isn't romantic eating, " he laughed back. "As you will find if wecome down to it. But if the worst comes to the worst it will save usfrom starvation. "

"Then we will make pemmican, " she said smiling, "or rather I shall. Itwill be another thing towards the completion of my education, and whenthis pilgrimage is over I shall demand a certificate from you, and setup as a guide for specially conducted parties to the wilds. "

"I think I shall be able to give you one, quite conscientiously, " Staneretorted laughingly. "You certainly are a very apt pupil. "

"Ah! you haven't seen that hideous mess on the other side of the bluff. The fact is I shudder at the thought of viewing it again. But we musthave the meat, I suppose. "

Having rested a little, she turned and left the camp again and the manfollowed her with eyes that glowed with admiration. As he lay there hethought to himself that however she might shudder at the thought of avilely unpleasant task, she would not shirk it, and as he reflected onthe events of the past few days, there was in his heart a surge offeeling that he could not repress. He loved this delicately-nurturedgirl who adapted herself to the harsh ways of the wilderness with sogay a spirit; and though a look of bitterness came on his face as hereflected that circumstances must seal his lips, in his heart he wasglad that they should have met, and that she should be his pupil in theways of the wild. 

CHAPTER XIII

A LODGE IN THE WILDERNESS

It was six weeks later. The dawn came less early, and nightfallperceptibly sooner. 

There was a new crispness in the air, and the leaves on the trees werelosing their greenness and taking on every possible shade, from paleyellow to old gold, and from that to dusky red. Both Stane and HelenYardely noticed the signs. Autumn was upon them and they were still intheir camp by the lake, though now Stane was able to hobble about witha pair of crutches made from a couple of forked sticks, padded withmoss at the forks for his arms, and covered with caribou skin. Helenherself was busy from dawn to sunset. From words that he had droppedshe knew that they had lost in the race with the seasons, and thatwinter would be on them before he would be able to take the trail. Shefaced the dreary prospect light-heartedly, but under his instructionomitted no precautions that would make a winter sojourn in the wildland tolerable. Fish were caught and dried, rabbits and hares snared, not merely for meat, but for their skins, which when a sufficientnumber had been accumulated were fashioned into parkas and blanketsagainst the Arctic cold which was surely marching on them. 

The leaves began to fall, light frosts were succeeded by heavier ones, and one morning they awoke to find a thin film of ice on the surface ofthe still water of the little bay where their camp was located. Staneviewed the ice with ominous eyes. He was incapable of any heavyphysical exertion as yet, and knowing the North in all its inimicalaspects, he was afraid for his companion, and though he rejoiced in herfrank comradeship, he regretted that she had let Ainley and the Indiandepart without knowledge of her presence. Guessing that the lake wassome sort of waterway between two points, daily, almost hourly, in thefrequent absences of the girl, he scanned it for any sign of humanpresences, but in vain. The lake's surface was unbroken by the movementof canoe or boat; its shores showed no tell-tale column of smoke. Theywere indeed alone in the wilderness. 

But one afternoon the girl returned from a hunting expedition withexcitement shining in her grey eyes. 

"I have found something, " she announced abruptly. 

"What is it?"

"There is a cabin up the lake, about three miles away. "

"A cabin?"

"Yes, and a very nice one, logs with a stone chimney and a parchmentwindow. There was no one about, and the door was only held by a haspand a wooden peg, so I ventured to look in. It has a stove, a roughtable, a bunk and a couple of logs plainly meant for chairs. "

Stane considered her news for a moment and then gave an obviousexplanation. "It is some trapper's hut. He is away, and will probablyreturn for the trapping season. "

"Yes, " she answered with a nod. "I thought that was the explanation. But there is nothing to prevent us taking possession until the ownerreturns, if he ever does, is there?"

"No, " he answered slowly. 

"Then tomorrow we will remove house, " she said with a little laugh. "It's the only sensible thing to do. The place is clean and warm andcomfortable; and if we take possession of it we shall be under notemptation to take the trail before you are really fit. "

"But----"

"But me no buts, " she cried in mock reproval. "You know that it is thereally wise thing to do, for if the weather turns bad, where arewe--with a canvas tent and a rather leaky birch-bark tepee? It would bethe very rankest folly not to take advantage of my discovery and youknow it. "

Stane was compelled to admit that she was right, and said so. 

"Then tomorrow I will raft you up to our new abode, " she answeredcheerfully. "There is no wind, and has been none for days. It will beeasy to pole the raft along the shore. "

Having announced this decision she began to busy herself about thecamp, singing softly to herself; and Stane watched her withappreciative eyes. She was thinner than when they had first met, herface was bronzed, her chestnut hair in its outer folds bleached almostgolden by the strong sunlight of the past summer. She radiated healthand vitality, and though she was dressed masculinely, femininity wasthe dominant note about her. In the weeks that had passed since he hadsaved her from the river she had developed amazingly. Apparently therewas nothing of the softness of the over-civilized left in her. That hadbeen eliminated by the harsh necessity of labour which circumstanceshad thrust upon her; and the life of the wilderness had developed inher elemental powers. She was now the strong mate-woman, quick injudgment, resourceful in action, and of swift courage in danger. Hiseyes glowed as he watched her, and a soft look came on his face. As ithappened Helen turned and saw it. 

"What is it?" she asked quickly, a look of expectancy in her eyes. 

He hesitated. That look challenged him. He knew that if he said allthat he felt she would respond. But the unfairness of such actionprevented him from doing so, and though he was strongly tempted heturned aside. 

"Nothing that I can tell you, " he said in answer to her question. 

"Oh!" she retorted, "you are a most tantalizing person. Why cannot youtell me? If the matter is secret you have no cause to be afraid. Towhom could I whisper it in this wilderness?"

She waved a hand half-round the compass as she spoke, and stood therelooking at him, still with the look of expectancy in her eyes, and witha little dash of colour in her bronzed cheeks. 

"I am not afraid of your whispering it to any one, " replied Stane, witha poor attempt at laughter. 

"Then why not tell me?" she urged. 

"Because----" began the man, and then stopped. The temptation surged upanew within him, the stress of it almost broke down his resolution. Then he cried, almost violently, "No! I cannot tell you--now. "

"Now!" she said, in tremulous laughter. "Now! 'Behold now is theaccepted time and now is the day of salvation. ' Unless the religiouseducation of your youth was sadly neglected you ought to know that. Thepresent is the only time. But if you will not tell me this tantalizingsecret now, you will some time?"

"Some time!" he answered. 

"It is a promise, " she insisted and now there was no laughing note inher voice, and her face was very serious. 

"Yes, " he answered, "it is a promise. "

"Then I write it on the tablets of my mind. I shall hold you to it, andsome day I shall demand its fulfilment. "

She turned and resumed her work and singing at the same time, and Stanelay there looking at her with the love shining plainly in his eyes. Hehad no doubt that she divined that which he would not speak; thatindeed it was no secret to her, and that she was glad in the knowledgehe could hardly question. Her bearing as well as her singing told himthat; and he knew that in the last few minutes they had travelled avery long way towards full revelation of each other; and that the daywhen he should speak would bring to her nothing that was not alreadywithin the sphere of her knowledge. 

The next day was spent in removal to the cabin further up the lake, both of them working at poling the raft with all their stores. Thecabin was well situated on a small bay, where a fair-sized streamemptied into the lake, and behind it stretched the forest, dark andimpenetrable. As he hobbled through the open door, Stane looked round, and under the bunk discovered a number of steel-traps which the girl onher first visit had overlooked. Also on a peg in a dark corner he founda set of dogs' harness hung just as the owner had left it, probablymonths before. He pointed the traps out to the girl. 

"As I guessed, it is a trapper's cabin, Miss Yardely. Any day may bringthe owner back. "

"Possession is nine points of the law, " she laughed. "What is the termthe gold-seekers use, Jump?--yes, we will jump the claim, for thepresent at any rate. "

"The owner may come back while there is open water, or he may wait forthe ice. "

"But we are tenants of the furnished cabin meanwhile, " she answeredcheerfully, "and may as well make ourselves at home. I'm going to lightthe stove. "

Inside the cabin there was a little wood-pile, and with a fewwell-chosen logs and dried sticks she soon had the stove roaring, andthen began to bestow their possessions tidily. By the time that wasaccomplished the shadows were creeping across the lake and deepening inthe woods, and it was time for the evening meal, and when it was readythey ate it at the rough table, with a sense of safety and comfort thathad long been lacking. "This place is quite cosy, " said Helen, lookinground the firelit cabin. "Tomorrow I shall make a curtain for thedoorway out of caribous skins. "

"Tomorrow, " laughed Stane, "the owner may return. "

"But he will not turn us out, " cried Helen. "The men of the wilds areall hospitable. "

"That is true, " agreed Stane, "and I have no doubt that we should beallowed to winter here if we chose. But if the man comes there is abetter way. We shall be able to engage him to take us to Fort Malsun, and so to safety and civilization. "

"Oh!" laughed the girl, "are you so anxious to go back tocivilization?"

Stane's face suddenly clouded, and the old hardness came back to it. 

"There is no going back for me--yet, " he answered bitterly. 

"But you will return, some day, " she answered quietly. "I have no doubtof that at all. But I was not thinking of that when I spoke, I waswondering whether you were tired of this primitive life. For my part Iquite enjoy it. It is really exhilarating to know that one has todepend upon one's self, and to find unexpected qualities revealingthemselves at the call of circumstances. I think I shall never be thesame again, my old life seems contemptibly poor and tame when I lookback upon it. "

"I can understand that, " he answered, turning from his bitterness. "Thewilderness gets into one's blood. "

"Particularly if it is a little wild to start with, " she repliedcheerfully, "as I really believe mine is. "

"There are men who have lived up here for years, enduring hunger andevery kind of hardship, hazarding life almost daily, who havingstumbled suddenly upon a fortune, have hurried southward to enjoy theirluck. They have been away a year, two years, and then have drifted backto the bleak life and hazard of the North. "

"It is not difficult to believe that, " answered Helen. "The life itselfis the attraction up here. "

Stane permitted himself to smile at her enthusiasm and then spoke. "Butif you had to live it day by day, year in and year out, Miss Yardely, then----"

"Oh then, " she interrupted lightly, "it might be different. But----"She broke off suddenly and a sparkle of interest came in her eyes. Pointing to the pile of wood in the corner she cried: "Mr. Stane, I amsure there is something hidden under that wood. "

Stane started and stared at the stacked-up logs, a slight look ofapprehension on his face. The girl laughed as she caught the look. "Itis nothing to be alarmed at; but those logs are misleading I am sure, for at one place I can see something gleaming. What it is I don't know, but I am going to find out. "

Rising quickly, she began to throw down the logs and presentlyuncovered a large square tin that at some time or another had containedbiscuits. Pursuing her investigations she uncovered two similar tinsand for a moment stood regarding them with curious eyes. Then shelifted one. 

"It is heavy, " she exclaimed. "What do you think it is--gold?"

Stane laughed. "Judging by the ease with which you lift it, I shouldsay not. "

"I'm going to learn, " she replied, and promptly began to operate on aclose-fitting lid. It took her a little time, but at last, with the aidof Stane's knife, she managed to remove it. Then she gave anexclamation of disappointment. 

"What is it?" asked Stane. 

"I don't know. It looks like--wait a minute!" she took a small pinch ofthe contents and lifting it to her mouth, tasted it. "Flour!"

"Flour! You don't say?"

There was a joyous exalting note in the man's voice that made the girlswing round and look at him in surprise. 

"You seem delighted!" she said wonderingly. 

"I am, " he replied. 

"But--well I don't exactly see why! If it were gold, I couldunderstand. One always finds gold in these deserted cabins, accordingto the story-books. And we find flour--and you rejoice!"

"I do, " answered Stane joyfully. "Miss Yardely, that flour is agodsend. We were very short, as you told me, only a pound or two left, and I was afraid that we might have to live on meat and fish alone, andyou don't know what that means. I do! I lived for three weeks onmoose-meat last winter and I haven't forgotten it yet. For Heaven'ssake open the other tins. "

The girl obeyed him, and presently the remaining tins revealed theircontents. One held about nine pounds of rice and the other was threeparts filled with beans. 

"We're in luck, great luck!" cried Stane. "Just the things we need. Anytime during the last fortnight I would have given a thousand pounds forthose stores. "

"I expect the owner, if he returns, will be glad to sell them you for agood deal less, " she retorted with mock petulance. "It was treasuretrove I was hoping for. "

"You can't live on gold, " laughed Stane, "and you can on the contentsof these tins. We must annex them. If the owner has deserted the cabinit won't matter; and if he returns he will bring fresh stores with him, those being but the surplus of his last winter's stock. Nothing couldhave been more fortunate. "

"But flour, and rice and beans!" protested Helen in simulated disgust. "They are so unromantic! It will sound so poor if ever I tell the storyin a drawing-room!"

Stane laughed again. "There's nothing romantic about straight meatwithout change. Those cereals are the best of treasure trove for us. "

"Well, " conceded the girl laughing with him. "You ought to know, and ifyou are satisfied I must be. If these stores will carry us through thetime until we start for civilization I won't grumble. "

To Stane the discovery of the stores was a great relief, far greaterthan the girl knew. Of starvation he had had no fear, for they were ina good game country, but he knew the danger of a meat diet alone, andnow that for the time being that danger was eliminated, he wascorrespondingly relieved; the more so when, two mornings later, thedoor of the hut being opened they beheld a thin powdering of shot-likesnow. 

"Winter is here!" said Helen, a little sobered at the sight of thewhite pall. 

"Yes, " he answered. "You found this hut just in time. "

No more snow fell for over a fortnight, and during that time, despitethe cold, Stane spent many hours practising walking without crutches. The fracture had quite knit together, and though his muscles were stillweak, he gained strength rapidly, and as far as possible relieved thegirl of heavier tasks. He chopped a great deal of wood, in preparationfor the bitter cold that was bound to come and stored much of it in thehut itself. He was indefatigable in setting snares, and one day, limping in the wood with a rifle, he surprised a young moose-bull andkilled it, and cached the meat where neither the wolves nor the lynxescould reach it. Then at the close of a dull, dark day the wind began toblow across the lake, whistling and howling in the trees behind, andthe cold it brought with it penetrated the cabin, driving them closerto the stove. All night it blew, and once, waking behind the tentcanvas with which the bunk where she slept was screened, the girlcaught a rattle on the wooden walls of the cabin, that sounded as if itwere being peppered with innumerable pellets. In the morning the windhad fallen, but the cabin was unusually dark, and investigationrevealed that in a single night the snow had drifted to the height ofthe parchment window. The cold was intense, and there was no stirringabroad; indeed, there was no reason for it, since all the wild life ofthe forest that they might have hunted, was hidden and still. Seated bythe stove after breakfast, Helen was startled by a brace of cracks likethose of a pistol. She started up. 

"What was that? Some one fired----"

"No!" answered Stane quickly. "Just a couple of trees whose hearts haveburst with the cold. There will be no one abroad this weather. "

But in that, as events proved, he was mistaken. For when, in the earlyafternoon, wrapped in the fur garments which the girl had manufacturedat their old camp, they ventured forth, not twenty yards away from thehut Stane came suddenly upon a broad snow-shoe trail. At the sight ofit he stopped dead. 

"What is it?" asked the girl quickly. 

"Some one has been here, " he said, in a curious voice. Without sayinganything further he began to follow the trail, and within a few minutesrealized that whoever had made it had come down the lake and had beenso interested in the cabin as to walk all around it. The tracks of thegreat webbed-shoes spoke for themselves and even Helen could read thesigns plainly. 

"Whoever is it?" she asked in a hushed voice, looking first at thesombre woods and then out on the frozen snow-wreathed lake. 

Stane shook his head. "I haven't the slightest notion, but whoever itwas watched the cabin for a little time. He stood there on the edge ofthe wood, as the deeper impression in the snow shows. "

"Perhaps the owner whose palace we have usurped has returned. "

Stane again shook his head. "No! He would have made himself known, andbesides he would most certainly have had a team of dogs with him. Whoever the visitor was he came down the lake and he went back thatway. "

"It is very mysterious, " said Helen, looking up the frozen waste of thelake. 

"Yes, " answered Stane, "but rather reassuring. We are not quite alonein this wilderness. There must be a camp somewhere in theneighbourhood, but whether of white men or of Indians one can onlyguess. "

"And which do you guess?" asked Helen quickly. 

"Indians, I should say, for a white man would have given us a call. "

"And if Indians, they may be friendly or otherwise?"

"Yes. "

"Then, " she said, with a little laugh, "we shall have to keep our eyeslifting and bolt the door o' nights!"

"It will be as well, " agreed Stane, as he began to circle round thecabin again. "Indians are not always law-abiding, particularly in theNorth here. In any case we must try and find out where this one comesfrom, for if he is friendly we may be able to get dogs, and with dogsour journey to civilization will be easy. "

He spoke lightly, but there was a grave look on his face, and as shewatched him following the snow-shoe tracks to the edge of the ice-boundlake, Helen Yardely knew that he was much disturbed by the mysteriousvisit of the unknown man. 

CHAPTER XIV

MYSTERIOUS VISITORS

It was snowing again, driving across the lake in the hard wind anddrifting in a wonderful wreath about the cabin. To go out of doorswould have been the uttermost folly, and Stane busied himself in thefashioning of snow-shoes which now would be necessary before they couldventure far afield. The girl was engaged in preparing a meal, and thecabin had an air of domesticity that would probably have utterly misledany stranger who had chanced to look in. Stane, as he worked, was veryconscious of the girl's presence, and conscious also that from time totime his companion glanced at him, whilst he bent over the tamarackframes, weaving in and out the webbing of caribou raw-hide. Thoseglances made his heart leap, though he strove hard to appearunconscious of them. He knew that in her, as in him, the weeks ofintimate companionship so dramatically begun had borne its inevitablefruit. The promise she had forced from him but a few days ago came tohis mind as he stooped lower over the half-finished snow-shoe. Would heever be able to redeem it? Would he ever be able to tell her what wasin his heart, what indeed had been there since the moment of theirfirst meeting at Fort Malsun?

Between him and the desire of his heart rose those bitter years inprison. Until the stain upon his name was removed and the judgment ofthe court expurged, he felt he could not tell her what he wished, whatindeed he was sure she would not be averse to hearing. Of Helen herselfhe had no doubt. She already had declared her faith in his innocence, and the generosity of her nature in all its depth and breadth had beenrevealed to him. To her, the years of his prison life were as thoughthey had never been, or at the most were an injustice which he hadsuffered, and his name in her eyes had suffered no soiling. That if hespoke she would respond, finely, generously, with all the fulness ofher splendid womanhood, he had no doubt. And yet, he told himself, hemust never speak until he could do so without blame; for whilst to herthe past was nothing, the people among whom she ordinarily moved wouldremember, and if she united her life with his she would, like himself, become a social exile. And there was a further reason for silence. Ifhe allowed the girl to commit herself to him whilst they were alive inthe wilderness, it would be said that he had taken advantage of arather delicate situation--using it for his selfish ends, and his prideas a man revolted against that. He clenched his teeth at the thought, and unconsciously frowned. No it should never be said that he----

"Why that dark scowl?" asked the girl laughingly. "Is my lorddispleased with the odours of the dinner that his servant prepares?"

Stane joined in her laughter. "I was not aware that I was frowning. Thedinner has a most appetising smell. "

"If only I had a Mrs. Beeton!" sighed Helen. "Though I daresay shewouldn't give any recipe for frozen moose and rice and beans, withouteven an onion to flavour. The civilized cookery books don't deal withthe essentials. When I return to the polite world the first thing Ishall do will be to publish a pocket cookery book for happy peoplestranded in the wilds!"

"Happy!" he echoed, smilingly. 

"I speak for myself, " she retorted lightly. "You don't suppose that Iregret these weeks away from civilization. I never was happier in mylife. I have, you will agree, proved myself. I can face anunprecedented situation without fainting. I can cook a dinner withoutkilling a man who eats it. I have set a leg successfully, and built araft that floated safely, and reared two lodges in the wilderness. Ihave no nerves, whilst nearly every woman I know is just a quiveringbundle of them. Yesterday, when I went out to the wood-pile a big lynxcame round the corner of it. His eyes simply blazed at me. Six monthsago, I should have run indoors. As it was, I threw a chunk of wood athim and he bolted. "

"You never told me, " began Stane. 

"What need?" interrupted the girl. "You don't inform me every time yousee a lynx!"

"But you must be careful, " replied Stane anxiously. "At this season ofthe year, if he is very hungry, the lynx can be a dangerous beast. Remember his claws are like knives and he has ten of them. "

"Oh, I will remember, " answered Helen cheerfully. She stooped over thepan, and then, announced: "I think this mess of savoury venison isready, and I don't believe our cook at home could have done it half sowell. If my lord and cobbler will put away the snow-shoe we will dine, and after the washing up I will sleep. "

It was in this spirit of lightness that she faced all the hardshipsincidental to their present life, and it was little wonder that attimes, between her gaiety and her challenging presence, Stane had muchado to keep his resolve. Half a dozen times a day his resolution wastested, and one of the severest trials came on the afternoon of thatvery day. 

The snow had ceased and the night had fallen, and desiring exercisethey left the cabin together to walk in an open glade in the wood whichthe strong wind had swept almost clear of snow. Except themselves therewas nothing moving. The vast stillness of the North was everywhereabout them, and a little oppressed by the silence they walked brisklyto and fro, Stane using his injured leg with a freedom that showed thatit was returning to its normal strength. Suddenly the girl laid amittened hand on his arm. 

"What is it?" he asked quickly. 

"Listen!" she said. 

He stood there, her hand still on his arm, and a second or two latercaught the sound which she had previously heard. Faintly and thinned bylong distance it came, a long curdling cry. 

"What----" she broke off as the cry sounded afresh, and he answered theunfinished question. 

"The hunt-cry of a wolf calling up the pack. There is nothing to fear. It is miles away. "

"Oh, " she said, "I am not afraid, I was only wondering what it was. "

Her hand was still on his arm, and suddenly their eyes met. Somethingin the grey of hers pierced him like a stab of flame. A fierce joysprang up within him, filling him with a wild intoxication. His owneyes burned. He saw the girl's gladness glow in her glance, beheld thewarm blood surge in her face, and fervent words leaped to his lips, clamouring for utterance. Almost he was overcome, then Helen removedher hand, and turned as the blood cry of gathering wolves broke throughthe stillness. He did not speak, and Helen herself was silent as theyturned towards the cabin, but each had seen deep into the other'sheart, and had felt the call that is the strongest call on earth, thecall of kind to kind, or mate to mate. 

Back in the cabin, the man turned feverishly to the task of snow-shoemaking on which he had been engaged. Through his mind with monotonousreiteration beat a phrase that he had read long ago, where, he hadforgotten. "My salvation is in work, my salvation is in work!" Heworked like a man possessed, without looking up, whilst the girl busiedherself with unnecessary tasks. She also knew what he knew, and sheheld him in a new respect for his silence, understanding the reasontherefor, and presently when her leaping heart had steadied a littleshe began to talk, on indifferent topics, desiring to break a silencethat was full of constraint. 

"I saw you looking at the traps there, this morning. Are you thinkingof using them?"

"Yes, " he answered, "I am going to start a trapping line. It will giveme something to do; and the walk will excercise my leg. If the owner ofthe cabin returns we shall be able to pay him rent with the pelts Itake. "

"Isn't it time he was here now, if he is coming?"

"Yes! But he may be delayed. "

"Or he may not intend to return. He may have found a new locality forhis operations. "

"When he went away he meant to return, or why did he leave his trapshere?"

"You think he will come back then?"

"I hope so!"

"And when he comes you will lure him to take us to Fort Malsun?"

"That is my idea, " replied Stane, bending over the webbing. 

"You are anxious to get away from here, then?"

"I am thinking of you, " he answered quickly. "I know what a full winterin the North means. "

"And if I get to Fort Malsun, do you think I shall escape the winter?"

"No, but you will have company. "

"I have company now, " she retorted smilingly, "and believe me I do notfeel at all lonely. "

"I was thinking you would have the factor's wife for----"

"Pooh!" was the challenging reply. "Do you think a woman cannot livewithout women?"

He offered no answer to the question, feeling that they were in thedanger zone again; and after a moment deliberately turned theconversation backward. 

"If I have luck with the traps, you may be able to have a set of fursfor a memento of your sojourn here!"

"Oh!" she laughed back, "if that is the only memento I am to have----"

"Yes?" he asked. 

For a moment she did not speak, and when she did there was provocationin her voice. "Well, I shall be disappointed, that is all. "

He did not ask why. He knew; and his very silence told Helen that heknew, and for a moment both of them were conscious of the surging ofthat elemental force which had made itself felt out in the forest. 

Then the stillness was broken by a sound outside. Both of them heardit, and listened carefully. 

"Crunch! crunch! crunch!"

Some one on snow-shoes was walking round the cabin. Whoever it was hadhalted by the door. Was he coming in? Half a minute passed during whichthey waited without moving, then Stane flashed a look at his companion. She was leaning forward, a look of curiosity and expectancy on herface, but not a single sign of fear. 

He rose slowly from his seat, put the unfinished snow-shoe on thetable, and crept towards the door. Whoever the intruder was he had notmoved, and Stane had an odd fancy that he was listening there on theother side of the rough timbers. He meant to surprise him, but wasdisappointed in his purpose, for when he reached the door it was tofind that the wooden bar had been dropped in position by Helen whenthey had re-entered the cabin. The bar fitted tightly across the door, and though he tried his best to move it without noise he failed. Thebar stuck, and when at last he threw the door open, and stepped outsidehe knew that he was too late. He looked into the gathering night. Hisfirst swift glance was towards the dark shadows under the trees. Therewas no one there. He swung round towards the lake, and dimly throughthe darkness descried a figure retreating rapidly northwards. He lookedclosely, then suffering something of a surprise, gave a quick hail. 

The retreating figure never paused, and never looked round, but kept onin a bee-line over the untrodden snow. Stane knew that it was uselessto follow, and the bitter cold was already pinching his face and handsand chilling him to the bone. He turned and hurried into the hut, flinging the door to behind him, and as he did so, Helen rose to herfeet. 

"You saw him?" she cried in some excitement. 

"No. I saw her!" answered Stane. "It was a woman. "

Helen's surprise was as complete as his own had been. "A woman! Are yousure?"

"I do not think that I can possibly have been mistaken. "

"But who--and why should she come here only to run away?"

"I do not know. I cannot guess, but when I went to the door, I had noidea that whoever was outside was standing there listening. "

"It is very mysterious, " said Helen thoughtfully, then suddenlysomething occurred to her, and she looked quickly at Stane as if shewere going to speak. He caught the glance. 

"You were about to say something?"

"Yes, " answered Helen giving a curt little laugh. "But I think I willkeep it to myself. It was only a quite silly idea that occurred to me. "

Something in her manner, the curtness of her laugh, her way ofspeaking, puzzled Stane, and moved him to press for an answer. "Nevermind the silliness, " he said. "Tell me?"

"It really is not worth while, " she answered with a little laugh, andnotwithstanding the laughter, Stane knew that it was useless to pressher further, and desisted from doing so. 

For a little time he sat silent, staring into the stove, wondering whatwas in his companion's mind, whilst the girl herself followed the oddthought which had occurred to her. Was the woman who had twice venturedinto the neighbourhood of the cabin without revealing herself, Miskodeed? It was very possible, for what other woman was there likelyto be in the locality who could have sufficient interest in them as tovisit them in such fashion? As she pursued the idea Ainley'ssuggestions came back to her with hateful force, and she remembered theIndian girl's attitude after Stane's departure. Other things sheremembered and her mind echoed the words which had awakened the man'sanger at the time they were uttered. 

"Behold an idyll of the land!"

She remembered the girl's wild beauty, her manifest interest in Stane, and once again she was conscious of the hot flame of jealousy in herheart. It stung her to think that possibly this man, whom she hadlearned to love, had an interest in this girl, who though no betterthan a savage was rarely beautiful. She laughed in sudden bitternessand scorn of herself, and at the laugh Stane turned quickly towardsher. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Just a thought!" she answered easily, though her face flushed. 

Stane did not ask her what the thought was. He was conscious ofsomething enigmatic in her attitude, and her evident reserve for asecond time prevented him from pursuing the matter further. He waited amoment, then he uttered the thought which had been in his own mind. 

"When the storm is over and there is a crust on the snow we will goexploring together. We may find the camp from which this woman comes. If the air keeps still through the night, it will be quite easy tofollow her trail in the snow. "

Helen looked at him with eyes half-veiled under her long lashes. Did hesuspect who the intruder was?

"You are very anxious to find this woman of mystery?" she asked. 

"Not particularly so, " he laughed in reply, "but I shall be very gladto find out who our neighbours are, and to learn whether we can secureany help from them. "

The girl was reassured by the unconcerned answer. It seemed clear nowthat Miskodeed had not even occurred to his mind, and the reserve inher manner disappeared. 

"You think we shall be dependent on their help?" she asked. "You areafraid that we shall not weather through by ourselves?"

Stane laughed again. "Oh no! I have no fears on that score; but it willdepend on their possession of dogs whether we have to camp here allwinter or not; for we could not possibly make Fort Malsun without them, particularly as I do not know the overland trail. Not that theknowledge is really essential now, since judging from the fact thatAinley went down the lake it seems likely that there is a way to Malsunriver in that direction. But we simply must have dogs. "

"Then in the morning we follow the mysterious one's trail?"

"Yes, if there is no wind or snow in the night. "

But in the night there was both wind and snow and on the morrow thewoman's trail was quite obliterated and the snow on the lake madetravelling impossible. Helen Yardely noted the fact without regret. 

"There will be no exploring party today, " she said, "so I will go andlook at my rabbit snares. "

"And I will accompany you, " answered Stane, "the walk in the snow willhelp to take the stiffness out of my leg. "

They set out together, but had gone but a little way when the girl gavea sharp "Hist!"

"What is it?" he asked quietly, thinking that she had seen game of somekind. 

"There is a man in those bushes in front of us, " she answered in awhisper. 

"A man. Are you sure?"

"I am quite sure. I saw him slip across that open space there. He has agun. "

The bushes she had indicated were about three hundred yards away, andStane examined them keenly. He could see nothing, however, and at theconclusion of his scrutiny he said: "I will go forward. You remainhere, Miss Yardely. "

"No, " she answered. "I will go with you, I would rather. "

They advanced together, Stane with his rifle ready for action, since apresence that avoided them might well prove to be an inimical one. Hewatched the bushes steadily as they advanced but saw nothing and whenthey reached them, thinking that the girl had been mistaken, he thrusthis way through them. Then he stood quite still with an anxious lookupon his face. There was no one behind the bushes, but there were themarks of moccasined feet in the snow. He looked down at them, thenfollowed the direction of them with his eyes, and stared into theforest, and as he did so, in its dim recesses, thought he saw thefigure of a man slip behind a tree. He still waited and watched, butthe figure did not re-appear, then Helen who had walked round thebushes spoke. 

"There _was_ some one here!"

"Yes, " he answered, "and whoever it was did not wish to encounter us. He has made his way into the wood. "

"What do you think it means?"

"I do not know, " he answered, "but I am afraid that there are hostileIndians about us. "

"You think they are watching the cabin--watching us, for a chance toattack?"

"It has that appearance, " answered Stane quietly. 

The girl was silent for a moment, then she gave a little laugh that hadin it a ring of courage. "I am not afraid, but I wish we had anotherrifle. "

Stane flashed at her a glance of admiration, then gave another longlook into the silent wood which now seemed full of menace. 

"Perhaps we had better return to the cabin. "

"No, " answered the girl stubbornly. "We will look at the snares first. I'm not going to be frightened from my dinner by a wandering Indian. "

And they went forward together. 

CHAPTER XV

A FACE AT THE TENT-DOOR

"Look, " cried Helen. "Look!"

They had almost reached the cabin on the return journey and were fullin view of the lake. As she cried the words she pointed over itssnow-laden surface, and Stane, looking in the direction indicated, sawthat which made his heart leap. A dog-team was coming up the lake, witha man on snow-shoes packing the trail in front. 

"Who can it be?" asked the girl in some excitement. 

"The owner of the cabin--for a certainty!" answered Stane, conscious ofa sudden relief from the anxiety which the morning had brought. 

"Then, " answered the girl quietly, "you wait to welcome him, whilst Igo and prepare a meal. "

She passed into the cabin, whilst Stane walked down to the shore of thelake. The traveller whoever he was, was making directly for the cabin, and watching, Stane saw that he walked wearily as if he had come far, or was suffering from some weakness. It was quite an appreciable timebefore he saw Stane standing to welcome him, and when he did so, hegave a joyous shout. Stane answered the hail, and a few minutes laterwhen the man halted his dogs he saw that he was mistaken in concludingthe new-comer was the owner of the cabin, for he was garbed in thewinter dress of the Nor-west Mounted Police. 

"Cheero, " said the policeman in greeting. "Where's Jean Bčnard?"

Stane shook his head. "Don't know. Is Jean Bčnard the owner of thecabin?"

At this question the policeman glanced at him sharply. 

"Don't you know that? Who in thunder--Stane! By Christopher!" As hemade the recognition the new-comer held out his mittened hand. "Wellthis is a pleasure. Don't you know me, old man?"

Stane looked at him as he shook his hand. "I think I do, " he said. "Your Dandy Anderton, aren't you?"

"Used to be, " laughed the other. "Now I'm Trooper Richard AllandAnderton of the R. N. W. M. P. , and no more a dandy. But I'm mortal glad tosee you, Stane, particularly as I'm a little knocked. I hurt myshoulder this morning, as----" He broke off suddenly as the sound ofmovement came from the cabin, and asked quickly. "You've got a mate?"

"Yes, " answered Stane, with a short laugh, "as good a mate as a mancould have, a mate that happens to be a lady!"

"A lady!" Anderton whistled. "Up here! By Jove! you've both got pluck. "

"Well, you see, Anderton, it's not exactly a matter of choice. We werestranded together, and this cabin happened to offer itself. But looseyour dogs, and come and be introduced!"

"Right-o!" replied the policeman. "I'll be with you in two jiffs. "

Stane entered the cabin to prepare Helen. As he did so the girl lookedup from the stove. "Is he the owner of our palace?"

"No; he is an old Oxford acquaintance of mine, who is now in theMounted Police. "

"Then we shall not suffer eviction?" she laughed, and to Stane itseemed there was an odd note of relief in her voice. 

"No; but he spells deliverance. You see if he can't do anything for ushimself he can carry the news of our whereabouts to Fort Malsun, and----"

At that moment a whip-stock hammered at the cabin-door, and a secondlater Trooper Anderton entered. For a moment he was a little takenaback by the girl's appearance, then Stane made the introduction. 

"Miss Yardely; Mr. Anderton!"

"Miss Yardely!" the policeman cried. "Are you Sir James Yardely'sniece, who was lost a few months ago?"

"The very same, " answered Helen smilingly. 

"There's a reward out for your discovery--five thousand dollars, noless. "

"I didn't know I was worth so much, " laughed the girl. 

"Your uncle makes it; and half the trappers in the north are keeping alook-out for you; for it is known that you were found by some one----"

"There is my saviour, " interrupted Helen, nodding towards Stane. 

"Lucky fellow, " laughed the policeman. "How did it happen?"

"Perhaps Mr. Stane will tell you later, " answered the girl, "and if hedoesn't, I will. But I don't want this moose steak to spoil. I take apride in my cookery. "

She laughed and turned again to the stove. Both the men watched heradmiringly for a moment, and then Anderton asked: "Been up here long, Stane?"

Stane gave him an approximate date, and explained the situation byrecounting his accident. The other nodded sympathetically. "You werelucky to have Miss Yardely with you. I had a narrow shave myself thismorning. Just as I was starting from my last camp, a tree that twominutes before looked as stable as a pyramid, collapsed. It caught meon the shoulder and knocked me flying. Lucky thing I fell clear; but itgave me a nasty jar, and my left arm is a little out of action, withthe soreness. I oughtn't to have taken the trail this morning, andwouldn't, only I'm in a tremendous hurry--a running quarry you know. "

"Who is it?" asked Stane. 

"A breed, wanted for murder. He's been running for months, making thisway and there's an idea that he's sought sanctuary with his mother'stribe at the top end of this lake. "

"Ah, then there is an encampment up here?"

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

Stane gave an account of the mysterious visit of the previous night andof the stranger they had seen in the wood that morning and thepoliceman listened carefully. 

"The girl's a puzzler, " he said, "but the stranger may be my man. Heknows his life is forfeit, and he's ripe for any sort of crime. I guessI'll move on after him when I've had a rest. "

"We'll go with you, " answered Stane thoughtfully, "we may be able toget dogs from the camp. "

"It's just possible, " agreed Anderton, "if the Indians will sell. Ifnot, then I'll carry the news of you back to Fort Malsun, and thefactor there will send for you like a shot. " He was silent for amoment, watching Helen as she laid the table; then he saidhesitatingly. "By the by, Stane, did you ever get to the bottom of thatunfortunate affair of yours in England?"

"No, " was the reply, given with some bitterness, "but the jury did. "

"Oh rot!" exclaimed the other. "Nobody who knew you really believesthat. "

"I have met one man up here who apparently does!"

"Who is that?"

"Ainley! You remember----"

"Ainley! Why, man, he----" He broke off suddenly, with a look at thegirl. 

"Yes?" said Stane, "you need not mind Miss Yardely. She knows I havebeen in prison. "

"Yes!" answered Helen quickly, "and I am very sure he ought not to havebeen. "

"It was a damnable shame!" broke out the policeman. "But the facts wereagainst you at the time, Stane. The hand-writing experts----"

"Oh the likenesses were there, right enough, " interrupted Stane, "and Icertainly had been in Harcroft's rooms, alone, and I suppose in companywith his cheque book. Also I had lost rather a pot of money on theboat-race, and I am bound to admit all the other incriminatingcircumstances. "

"Yes, but you don't know everything. Long after you--er--went down, Jarlock, who was in our set, told me something about Ainley. "

"What was that?" asked Stane quickly. 

"Well, it was that just at that time, Ainley was broke and borrowingmoney right and left, and that he had forged Jarlock's name to a bill. Jarlock became aware of the fact through the bill being presented tohim for payment, and he tackled Ainley about the business. Ainley ownedup, and Jarlock let the thing go, for old acquaintance' sake. But justabout the time of your trouble he left the 'Varsity and went on a tripto the Cape, and it was a full year after before he even heard what hadbefallen you. It made him think of his own affair with Ainley, and whenhe met me months afterwards he took me into his confidence. We talkedthe matter over carefully, and knowing you as we both did, we reachedthe conclusion that you were innocent and that Ainley was the guiltyman. "

"Any evidence?"

"No, nothing beyond that matter of the bill. We judged by generalprinciples. Ainley always was something of a rotter, you know. "

Stane laughed a trifle bitterly. "He's by way of becoming a personageof importance today. But I think you're right, the more so since Iencountered him up here. "

He gave a brief account of his meeting with Ainley, told how he hadwaited for him on two successive nights, and how on the second night hehad been kidnapped without any apparent reason. The policeman listenedcarefully and at the end nodded his head. 

"Looks fishy!" he commented. "The fellow was afraid of you. " Then aftera moment he asked, "Your question? The question you wanted to askAinley, I mean. What was it?"

"It was about a sheet of paper with some writing on it. You shall seeit. "

He felt in his hip-pocket, and producing a small letter-case, took outa thin packet wrapped in oiled silk. Opening it, he unfolded a sheet offoolscap and handed it to the other. 

It was covered with writing, and as Anderton looked at it, he saw thatthe writing was made up of two names, written over and over again, thenames being those of Hubert Stane and Eric Harcroft. At first thecharacter of the handwriting of the two names was widely different, butpresently the separate characteristics were blended with a distinctleaning towards those of Harcroft, though some of the characteristicsof the earlier writing of Stane's name still survived, though at thebottom of the sheet only Harcroft's name was written, and that a dozentimes. The policeman whistled as he studied it. 

"Where did you get this, Stane?"

"I found it in a copy of Plato which Ainley had borrowed from me. Itwas returned before the forgery turned up, and that paper slipped outwhen I was going through my possessions after my release from Dartmoor. What do you make of it?"

"It is perfectly plain what the meaning of it is, " answered Andertonwith conviction. "Whoever did this was blending two handwritings forsome purpose or other, and the purpose is not difficult to guess. "

"That is what I felt when I saw it, and when the significance of itdawned on me, I set out to find Ainley that I might ask him the meaningof it. He had left England, and no one whom I could ask knew hiswhereabouts. Things were very difficult for me at home and so I cameout here, stumbled on Ainley--and you know the rest. "

Helen Yardely had listened to the talk of the two men without speaking, but now she broke in. "I do not wonder Gerald Ainley did not keep hispromise to see you at Fort Malsun. I only wonder that when he arrangedfor your deportation, as he surely did, he did not arrange for yourdeath. "

"He does not know I have this paper, " answered Stane with a gratefullook towards her. "But when I do meet him----"

He did not finish the sentence, and after a moment the girl announcedthat the meal was ready. As they ate, Anderton glanced from time totime at the man whom he had known as a careless youth at Oxford. Henoted the hardness of the eyes, the greying hair, the deep lines of theface, and was moved to a sudden burst of indignation. 

"Confound the man, Stane! If I were in your place I should be temptedto shoot him! But that's too good for him. "

"I will do that which will be worse for him, " answered Stane quietly, "I will make him own up. "

The two who heard him, looking at his resolute face, had no doubt thathe would keep his word, and as each reflected what he must have beenthrough, neither was sorry for Gerald Ainley or had any compunction atthe thought of what might happen to him. 

The meal was finished without any further reference to the past, andafter a smoke, Anderton threw on his furs and went outside. Presentlyhe returned and announced his intention of going up the lake to theIndian encampment. 

"The weather is going to hold, and it really is of the utmostimportance for me to find out whether my man is here or not. I'm not inthe best form after my accident this morning, but there's nothing elsefor it, and if the fellow has left, I shall have to follow at hisheels, and wear him down. It is the only way. Duty is duty in my force, I can assure you. "

Stane looked at Helen, then he said: "We will accompany you, Anderton. You represent the law, and in your company we are much more likely toreceive attention and get what we want than if we go alone, whilstfurther, if the mysterious visits we have had were hostile inintention, the fact that we are known to you will tend to check them. "

"Something in that!" agreed the policeman. 

When Anderton had harnessed his dogs they started off, making directlyup the lake, and within two hours sighted about half a score of wintertepees pitched near the store, and with sheltering woods on three sidesof them. As they came into view, with the smoke of the fires curlingupward in the still air, the policeman nodded. 

"The end of a journey of two hundred miles; or the beginning of onethat may take me into the Barrens, and up to the Arctic. Lord, what alife this is!"

He laughed as he spoke, and both those who heard him, knew that hefound the life a good one, and was without regret for the choice he hadmade. 

As they drew nearer the camp, two or three men, and perhaps a dozenwomen, with twice that number of children came from the tepees to lookat them, and when the dogs came to a halt, one of the men steppedforward. He was an old man, and withered-looking, but with a light ofcunning in his bleared eyes. 

"What want, " he asked. "Me, Chief George. "

The policeman looked at the bent figure clothed in mangy-looking furs, with a dirty capote over all, and then gave a swift glance at hiscompanions, the eyelid nearest to them fluttering down in a slow wink. A second later he was addressing the chief in his own tongue. 

"I come, " he said, "from the Great White Chief, to take away one who isa slayer of women. It is said that he has refuge in thy lodges. "

The Indian's dirty face gave no sign of any resentment. "There is nosuch man in my lodges. "

"But I have heard there is, a man who is the son of thy sister, with awhite father. "

The old Indian looked as if considering the matter for a moment, thenhe said slowly. "My sister's son was here, but he departed four daysago. "

"Whither went he?"

The Indian waved his hand northward. "Towards the Great Barrens. Hetook with him all our dogs. "

"Done!" said the policeman with a quick glance at Stane. "It is certainthere are no dogs here, or we should have heard or seen them. "

He turned to the Indian again, whilst Stane looked at Helen. "You heardthat, Miss Yardely? Our exile is not yet over. "

"Apparently not, " agreed Helen smilingly. 

Stane again gave his attention to the conversation between his friendand the Indian, but half a minute later, happening to glance at thegirl, he surprised a look of intense interest on her face. She waslooking towards a tepee that stood a little apart from the rest, andwondering what it was that interested her, Stane asked, "What is it, Miss Yardely? You seem to have found something very interesting. "

Helen laughed a little confusedly. "It was only a girl's face at atent-door. I was wondering whether the curiosity of my sex would bringher into the open or not. "

Stane himself glanced at the tepee in question, the moose-hide flap ofwhich was down. Apparently the girl inside had overcome her curiosity, and preferred the warmth of the tepee to the external cold. He grewabsorbed in the conversation again, but Helen still watched the tepee;for the face she had seen was that of Miskodeed, and she knew that thethought she had entertained as to the identity of the woman of mystery, who had fled from the neighbourhood of the cabin, was the right one. Presently a mittened hand drew aside the tent-flap ever so small a way;and Helen smiled to herself. 

Though she could see nothing through the tiny aperture so made, sheknew, as certainly as if she herself had been standing in the tepee, that Miskodeed was watching them with interested eyes. Unconsciouslyshe drew herself upright, and flashed a challenging glance towards theinvisible spectator, visioning the Indian girl's wild beauty andmatching it, as a jealous woman will, against her own. Not till Staneaddressed her did she take her eyes from the tepee. 

"Anderton's through, " he said. "His man has gone northward; and as youheard there are no dogs here. We shall have to go back to the cabin. Anderton tried to persuade the chief to send a couple of his young menwith a message down to Fort Malsun, but the fellow says it isimpossible in this weather to make the journey without dogs, which Idare say is true enough. "

"Then, " said the girl with a gay laugh, "we have a further respite. "

"Respite?" he said wonderingly. 

"Yes--from civilization. I am not absolutely yearning for it yet. "

She laughed again as she spoke, and Stane laughed with her, though hedid not notice the glance she flashed at the closed tepee. ThenAnderton turned abruptly from Chief George. 

"I'm sorry, " he said, "I have done what I could for you two, but thisnoble red man either won't or can't help you. I shall have to push on, but the first chance I get I'll send word on to Factor Rodwell. If onlyI could turn back----"

"Please don't worry about us, Mr. Anderton, " interrupted Helencheerfully. "We shall be all right. "

"'Pon my word, I believe you will, Miss Yardely, " answered thepoliceman in admiration. He looked down the lake, and then added: "Nouse my going back. It will only be time wasted. I will say good-byehere. Keep cheerful, old man, " he said to Stane. "You'll work clear ofthat rotten business at Oxford yet. I feel it in my bones. "

Helen moved a little away, and the policeman lowered his voice, "Luckybeggar! You'll ask me to be best man, won't you?"

"Best man!"

"Pooh, man! I've got eyes in my head, haven't I?" Without giving Stanea chance to reply, he walked towards Helen. 

"Keep cheerful, Miss Yardely, and don't let Stane get dumpy about thepast. "

"I think you have effectually saved him from that, " she answeredquietly. 

"Jolly glad if I have! He's a good fellow, is Hubert. Till our nextmeeting! Au revoir, Miss Yardely! So long, Stane!" The next moment heturned to his dogs. "Moosh! Moosh--Michele!"

The leading dog gave a little yelp. The harness tightened, and the sledbegan to move. Ten seconds later the man who carried the law throughthe frozen North was ahead of his sled, breaking the trail, and Staneand Helen had turned in the direction of their cabin, the girl with onelast glance over her shoulder at the tepee, at the opening of whichMiskodeed's beautiful face had now revealed itself, her eyes followingthe man whom once she had done her best to help. 

CHAPTER XVI

AN ARROW OUT OF THE NIGHT

The short Northland day was drawing to a close, when Stane and Helencame in sight of the cabin again. For the first time since he had knownit, the man felt that the place had a desolate look; and the feelingwas accentuated by the sombre woods that formed the background of thecabin. Whilst yet a hundred yards from it he gave expression to hisfeeling. 

"The cabin has a most forlorn look, " he said, half-pausing to view it. 

Helen, who was very tired, replied, "It certainly looks cheerless inthe darkness, but that is because there is no light. A few sticks inthe stove and the glare of the fire shining through the parchmentwindow would make it seem cheerful and homey enough. "

"But----" he broke off suddenly. "Hark. What was that?"

"I heard nothing, " answered Helen. 

"Listen, " he said. 

For perhaps twenty seconds they stood perfectly still, then somewherein the wood some unseen creature barked. Stane laughed at himself. 

"A fox! I believe I am getting nervous, " he said, beginning to moveforward. Helen moved with him, and they entered the cabin together. Striking a match and lighting a slush lamp which he had devised, Stanelooked round. Things were just as they had left them on theirdeparture, and he drew a little breath of relief. Why he should do sohe could not have explained, any more than he could have explained thefeeling of apprehension which had overtaken him. A few minutes passed, and soon the stove was roaring, filling the cabin with a cheerful glow. Then whilst the girl busied herself with preparations for supper, hewent outside to bring in more wood. On the return journey, as he kickedopen the cabin-door, for a second his slightly stooping form wasoutlined against the light and in that second he caught sounds whichcaused him to drop the logs and to jump forward, suddenly. He threw thedoor to hurriedly and as hurriedly dropped the bar in place. Helenlooked round in surprise. 

"What is it?" she asked quickly. 

"There is some one about, " he answered. "I heard the twang of abowstring and the swish of an arrow over my head. Some one aimed--Ah, there it is!"

He pointed to the wall of the cabin, where an arrow had struck, andstill quivered. Going to the wall he dragged it out, and looked at it. It was ivory tipped, and must have been sent with great force. The girllooked at it with eyes that betrayed no alarm, though her face hadgrown pale. 

"An Indian!" she said. 

"Yes, " he answered. "And more than one I should fancy. That fox-barkwas a signal. No doubt it gave notice of our return. "

"What shall we do?" asked Helen quietly. 

"Do!" he answered with a short laugh. "We will have our supper and waitdevelopments. We can do nothing else. We shall have to wait untildaylight--then we may learn something. "

Helen nodded. "Yes, I suppose there is nothing else to do; and ahostile force outside is no reason why we should die of hunger within. "

Calmly, as if hostile Indians were part of the daily program, shecontinued the preparations for supper, whilst Stane fixed a blanketover the parchment window, which was the one vulnerable point in thecabin. This he wedged with the top of a packing case, which the ownerof the cabin had improvised for a shelf, and by the time he hadfinished, supper was almost ready. As they seated themselves at thetable, the girl laughed suddenly. 

"I suppose we are in a state of siege?"

"I don't know, but I should not be surprised. It is very likely. "

"I feel quite excited, " she said. "Do you think we shall have tofight?"

"It depends what the intentions of our friends outside may be. We shallcertainly have to be on the alert. "

"You mean we shall have to keep watch. "

"That I think will be necessary. They might try to rush the cabin, though I do not think they will. It is pretty solidly built. "

"Why should Indians attack us?"

"I do not know. They may think that we are interfering with theirhunting-rights. "

"Perhaps this hostility explains why the owner of the cabin has notreturned. "

"That is possible. This is a good fur country; but he may have feltthat the furs were not worth the risk. "

"Yes!" answered Helen, and after a moment's silence asked: "Do youthink those Indians up the lake have anything to do with it?"

"That is more than possible, indeed, it is very likely. I did not likethat old chief. There was a very cunning look in his eyes and it isvery possible that he designs to get rid of both us and Anderton. Themysterious visitants we have had, and the man in the wood this morninghave a rather ominous look. "

"But we shall fight them?"

"Of course! If they are going to fight, we shall fight; though for yoursake I hope that won't be necessary. "

"Oh, you must not mind me, " was the reply, given with a little laugh. "The truth is that I think I should rather enjoy a fight. "

Stane gave her a quick look of admiration. "I know you will not beafraid, " he said, "and if Anderton gets through it may not be longbefore help arrives. Also it must be remembered that we may bedisturbing ourselves unnecessarily. That, " he nodded towards thearrow--"may be no more than the malicious freak of some hunterreturning home, and meant to scare us. "

"But you do not think so?" asked Helen, looking at his grave face. 

"Well----" he began, but the girl interrupted him. 

"You don't, " she cried. "I know you don't. You have already admittedthat you think the matter is serious, as I do myself, though I don'tpretend to know anything about Indians. In a situation of this sort thetruth is the best, and I know, we both know, that there is someoccasion for concern. Is not that so?"

"Well, " he agreed, "we can't be too careful. "

"Then tell me what we must do, " she said a little reproachfully, "anddon't make me feel that I am a child. "

He considered a moment, then he replied: "We must keep watch and watchthrough the night. Not that I think there will be any attack. TheseNorthern Indians are wonderfully patient. They will play a waitinggame, and in the end make a surprise attack. They will know that now weare on the alert, and I should not be surprised if for the present theyhave withdrawn altogether. "

"You really believe that?"

"Honestly and truly!"

"Then for the moment we are safe. "

"Yes! I think so; and you can go to rest with a quiet mind. "

"Rest!" laughed the girl. "Do you think I can rest with my heartjumping with excitement? I shall keep the first watch, perhaps afterthat I shall be sufficiently tired--and bored--to go to sleep. "

Stane smiled at her words, and admiration of her courage glowed in hiseyes, but what she suggested fitted in well enough with his owndesires, and he let her have her way, and himself lay down on his couchof spruce-boughs, and after a little time pretended to sleep. But inreality sleep was far from his eyes. From where he lay, he could seethe girl's face, as she sat in the glowing light of the stove. Therewas a thoughtful, musing look upon it, but no sign of fear whatever, and he knew that her courageous demeanour was not an assumed one, butwas the true index of the gay courage of her heart. 

Helen was thinking of the face of Miskodeed as she had seen it over hershoulder, when they were departing from the encampment up the lake. Shehad read there a love for the man who was her own companion, and in thedark, wildly beautiful eyes she had seen the jealousy of anundisciplined nature. And as she sat in the glowing light of the stove, she was conscious of a feeling of antagonism to this rare daughter ofthe wilds who dared to love the man whom she herself loved. Sheunderstood, from the feelings she herself was conscious of, what mustbe the Indian girl's attitude towards herself, and was inclined totrace the hostility which had suddenly manifested itself to thatsource. The girl had been in the neighbourhood of the cabin once, shewas sure of that, and might have come again, probably by some shortpath through the woods, her hand, possibly, had drawn the bow and sentthe arrow which had awakened their apprehensions. But in that case, sheasked herself, why had the arrow been directed against her companionrather than herself?

That she could not understand, and after a time her thoughts passed tothe story which Stane had related to the policeman, and the account ofthe forged bill that the latter had given. The two together seemedabsolutely conclusive. What a man had done once on the way of crime, hecould do again, and as her conviction of Gerald Ainley's guilt grew, she was quite sure that somehow he was the moving spirit in hercompanion's deportation from Fort Malsun. He had not expected to seeHubert Stane, and when the latter had demanded an interview he had beenafraid, and in his fear had taken steps for his removal. Ainley lovedher; but now, if he were the last man left in the world, she wouldnever----

A sound of movement interrupted her reverie, and she half-turned asStane rose from his spruce-couch. 

"You have heard nothing?" he asked. 

"Nothing!" she replied. 

"I will take the watch now, Miss Yardely, and do you lie down andrest. "

"I will lie down, " she said with a little laugh, "but I am afraid sleepwill be another matter. My mind is in a ferment. "

"You can try at any rate, " he said. "I will call you if any untowardthing occurs. "

"You promise?" she asked. "I wouldn't miss one bit of anything that ishappening--not for worlds. "

"I promise, " he answered with a smile. 

"Though I devoutly hope there will be no need for me to keep thepromise. "

"I'm not at all sure I do, " laughed Helen, and obediently retired toher screened bunk. 

Stane lit his pipe, and seated himself near the stove. He had, as hehad previously told the girl, little fear of any attack developing thatnight, and this anticipation proved to be the correct one. The still, dead hours passed in quietness, and when the grey day broke, hecautiously opened the cabin-door and looked out. Nothing stirredanywhere, either in the forest or lakewards. He turned and looked athis companion who had just emerged from her sleeping place. 

"I think we have our little world to ourselves again. "

"Whoever made the attack may be lurking in the woods!" said Helen. 

"That of course is more than possible, but I do not think it is likely. It is extremely cold and a night in the open would be anything butdesirable. The attacker or attackers, if from the Indian encampment, probably returned there. They must know that we can't leave here, andthey will probably try to lull us into a feeling of security, and thenattempt a surprise. Anyway after breakfast we'll beat the neighbouringcoverts, I don't fancy being kept indoors by an enemy who may prove tobe very contemptible. "

When breakfast was finished and the necessary morning tasks finished, Stane, who had been in and out of the hut frequently and had kept acareful watch on the wood and lake, looked at Helen. 

"Do you feel equal to facing the possible danger, Miss Yardely?"

"I am not afraid, " answered Helen quickly, "and if I were I wouldn'town it--or show it, I hope. "

"I don't believe you would, " replied Stane with a smile. "We will goout, first on the lake where we can survey the shore; and then alongthe path in the woods where we saw that man yesterday. "

"About that man, " said Helen slowly. "There was something that I meantto tell you yesterday, but I forgot it again in the excitement of Mr. Anderton's arrival. "

"What was that?" asked Stane pausing in the act of slipping on his furparka. 

"Well, I had an odd fancy that he was not an Indian. "

"You thought he was a white man?"

"Yes, " answered Helen, "that idea occurred to me when you spoke ofIndians. The man may have been a native, but in the fleeting glimpse Ihad of him he did not give me that impression. Of course I may beutterly mistaken. "

"But what white man would run away from us?" asked Stane, thoughtfully. "What could possibly be his reason for avoiding us?"

"I don't know, " answered Helen, with a quick laugh. "And as it may beno more than my fancy, the question of the man's racial identity is notworth worrying over. I merely thought I would tell you what myimpression was. "

Stane nodded. "Anyway, white or red he is not going to keep us from ourwalk. Are you ready?"

"Quite, " she answered, and going outside they slipped on theirsnow-shoes, and then made a bee-line out on the lake. 

They walked forward for perhaps half-a-mile and halted at a pointwhence they got a wide view of the shore. Stane looked up and down thelake. Its smooth white surface was absolutely without life but for hiscompanion and himself. Then he scrutinized the shore, point by point, creek by creek, and Helen also looked carefully. 

"No sign of any one, " he commented at last. "No camp or fire, we mightbe alone in the world. If there is any one he is hidden in the deepwoods, and for the present invisible. I think instead of going back tothe cabin we will make a detour to the point where we surprised thestranger yesterday. "

Stane leading, to break the track in the untrodden snow, they madetheir way shorewards and struck it well to the north of the cabin, thenbegan to work through the woods, keeping a sharp look out as they went. They saw nothing, however, and when they reached the bushes behindwhich the stranger had slipped the previous day, there were no freshtracks to awaken alarm. They stood there looking down between theserried lines of trees. Nothing save the trees was visible, and therewas no sound of movement anywhere. The silence was the silence ofprimeval places, and somehow, possibly because of the tenseness ofnerve induced by the circumstances of the walk, the girl was moreconscious of it than ever she had been before. 

"There is something inimical in the silence up here, " she said in awhisper, as she gave a little shudder. "One has a feeling as if all theworld of nature were lying in wait to ambush one. "

"Nature red in tooth and claw, " Stane quoted lightly, "only up here herteeth are white, and her claws also. And when she bares them a man haslittle chance. But I understand your feeling, one has the sense of abesetting menace. I felt it often last winter when I was new to thecountry, and it is a very nasty feeling--as if malign gods were at workto destroy one, or as if fate were about to snip with her scissors. "

"Yes, " answered the girl, still whisperingly, then she smiled. "I havenever felt quite like this before. I suppose it rises out of the realmenace that may be hidden in the woods, the menace of some one watchingand waiting to strike. "

"Very possible, " answered Stane, flashing a quick look at her. He waslooking for the sign of fear, but found none, and a second later hesaid abruptly: "Miss Yardely, I think you are very brave. "

"Oh, " laughed the girl in some confusion, "I don't know that, but Ihope I am not below the general average of my sex. "

"You are above it, " he said with emphasis. "And I know that this, evenfor the bravest of women, must be rather a nerve-breaking walk. "

"I won't deny that I find it so, " was the reply. "But I am sustained byan ideal. "

"Indeed?" he asked inquiringly. 

"Yes! Years ago I read about some English women in India who were at amilitary station when the Mutiny broke out. The regiments in theneighbourhood were suspected of disloyalty and any sign of fear orpanic would have precipitated a catastrophe. If the women had left, theSepoys would have known that they were suspected, so they remainedwhere they were, attending to their households, paying their ordinarycalls, riding about the district as if the volcano were not bubblingunder their feet, and they even got up a ball in defiance of thedanger. Some people would call the latter mere bravado, but I am sureit was just a picturesque kind of courage, and in any case it impressedthe Sepoys. Those particular regiments remained loyal--and it was thebehaviour of the white women which saved the situation. And theircourage is my ideal. I have always felt that if I were placed in asimilar situation I would at least try to live up to it. "

"You are doing so, " answered Stane with conviction. "This situation isnot quite the same, but----" He broke off and looked round the silentwoods, which might well be the hiding-place of implacable enemies, thenadded: "Well, it is a test of character and courage!"

"Oh, " laughed the girl a little nervously, "you do not know how I amquaking inwardly. "

"I am not to blame for that, " he answered laughingly, "you conceal thefact so well. "

In due time they reached the cabin without mishap. They had found nosign of the enemy of the previous night. If he still lurked in the woodhe kept himself hidden and Stane hoped that he had withdrawn for good. But he determined to take no chances, and busied himself in the nextfew hours with cutting a good store of wood which he stacked in thecabin. He also chopped a considerable amount of ice which he stored asfar away from the stove as possible. Some cached moose-meat, which wasfrozen solid as a board, he hung on the rafters of the cabin, whichthemselves were white with frost. 

The short day had almost ended when he had completed these tasks, andhe was about to enter the cabin, when through the dusk he caught sightof a figure, standing among the trees openly watching him. The garbproclaimed the figure to be that of a woman, and for a moment he wasutterly startled. Then, acting on impulse, he started to walk towardsthe watcher, his unmittened hand on the butt of the pistol at his hip. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE ATTACK

The watching woman made no attempt to escape, but somewhat to Stane'ssurprise, awaited his coming. As he drew nearer he was again startledto find that it was the girl whom he had talked with at Fort Malsun. 

"Miskodeed, " he cried in surprise. "You! What are you doing here?"

"I come to warn thee, " said the girl in her own dialect. "Once before Idid that, and I was too late. But now I am in time. "

"To warn me?" he echoed, still too surprised to say more. 

"Yes, " answered Miskodeed. "There are those who will seek to kill theetonight. "

"Tonight! But why?"

"I do not know, fully. The thing is hidden from me, but there is someone who means to slay. "

"Who is it?" asked Stane in sudden curiosity. 

"It is the son of Chief George's sister--the man for whom the officercame to the encampment yesterday. "

"Then he is at the camp, after all?"

"He was there when the officer came. The story which Chief George toldabout his departure to the Great Barrens was a lie. "

"But why should he seek to kill me?"

"Have I not said I do not know fully? But he promises big things ifthou are slain: rifles and the water that burns and makes men sing, andtea and molasses, and blankets for the women. "

"But, " protested Stane, "I have but one rifle and little spirit andtea. I am not worth plundering, and Chief George must know that the lawwill take account of his doings, and that the grip of the law reachesright up to the Frozen Sea. "

"He knows, " answered the girl quietly, "but Chigmok--that is hissister's son--has filled him with a lying tale that the law will takeno account of thee, and he believes, as Chigmok himself believes. "

"But----" began Stane, and broke off as the girl lifted her hand. 

"Chief George has seen the rifles, and the burning water, the box oftea and the bale of blankets, and his soul is hungry for them. He wouldkill more than thee to win them. "

"And the--the man who is with me?"

A little flash came in the girl's dark eyes. "That man----" she said ina voice that had an edge like a knife, "tell me, is she thy squaw?"

"Then you know, Miskodeed?" he said, with a quick feeling of shame. 

"I know that man is the bright-faced woman who came to Fort Malsun. Tell me, is she thy squaw?"

"No?" he answered sharply. "No!"

"Then what does she in thy lodge?"

"That is due to an accident. She drifted down to the great river, and Isaved her from the water, and started to take her back to Fort Malsun. Our canoe was stolen in the night, and when we took the land-trail myleg was broken and we were delayed, and by the time I was fit fortravel, winter was upon us, so we sought the cabin to wait for help. That is the explanation, and now tell me, Miskodeed, is the woman todie?"

"The bright-faced one is to be saved alive. "

"Ah! That is an order?"

"It is necessary for the winning of the rifles, and the tea and theblankets. "

Stane pursed his lips to whistle at the news. There was more behind itthan appeared; and he knew that Chigmok the murderous half-breed wasnot the framer of the plot, however, he might be the instrument for itsexecution. He looked at the girl thoughtfully for a moment, and as hedid so a soft look came in the wild, dark eyes that were regarding himintently. 

"Canst thou not leave the bright-faced woman, and I will show thee away through the woods. We will go together----"

"It is impossible! Quite impossible, Miskodeed, " cried Stane almostviolently. 

He did not know that other ears than those to which they were addressedcaught those words of repudiation. Helen Yardely, missing his presenceabout the cabin, had stepped out to look for him, and catching a murmurof voices in the still air, had stood listening. The words, coupledwith the girl's name, reached her quite clearly, and struck her like ablow. She did not wait to hear more, but retreated to the cabin, hercheeks burning with shame, her grey eyes bright with fierce scorn. Shedid not know to what the words referred, but, in her haste and jealousyshe utterly misinterpreted the situation, and her scorn was as much forherself as for Stane as she thought how she had grown to love a manwho----

The thought was an intolerable one. She could not endure it, and shebegan fiercely to do a totally unnecessary task in the hope of drivingit from her. That was impossible, and after a minute or two she seatedherself in front of the stove and stared into its glow with eyes thatflashed with mingled anger and pain, the while she awaited Stane'sreturn. 

Meanwhile, the interview which had kindled such fires within her hadalready come to an abrupt conclusion. For as Stane declined hersuggestion Miskodeed lifted a warning finger. 

"Hark!" she whispered. 

Stane listened, as did the girl. Whatever sound had made her speak theword was hushed, and after a few seconds she spoke again. "Then thouwilt die for this bright-faced woman?"

"A thousand times!" he answered with quiet vehemence. "Understand, Miskodeed----"

He got no further. In the recesses of the wood a fox barked sharply, and a second later the sound was repeated in two different directions. 

"Ah, " cried the Indian girl, "They come. Thou art too late. Thou wiltdie for thy bright-faced woman now--once. "

A second later she turned away, and began to walk rapidly between thetrees. Stane did not stand to watch her go. Without an instant's delayhe made for the cabin at a run, and as he entered it, breathing ratherheavily, he flung to the door and dropped the wooden bar in place. Thenwithout a word he walked to the window and barricaded it as he had doneon the previous night. Helen still seated by the stove looked at him insome wonder, and he offered what to him appeared a sufficientexplanation. 

"Last night when we returned a fox barked in the wood, and a littleafter some one shot an arrow to kill me. Just now three foxes barked inquick succession in different directions, and as I have not seen a foxsince we came here, I think it is as well to take precautions. "

To his surprise Helen offered no comment, but sat there as if waitingfor further explanations. He offered none. Being unaware of hiscompanion's knowledge of his interview with Miskodeed he had decided tokeep the incident to himself, and not to alarm her more than wasnecessary. Seating himself, he lit a pipe, and as his companion showedno inclination to talk, fell into thought. There was a rather strained, perplexed look on his face, and as the girl glanced at him once shewondered resentfully what thoughts accounted for it. His silence aboutthe Indian girl told against him in her mind. If there had been nothingto be ashamed of in his relations with Miskodeed why had he not spokenopenly of the incident in the wood? Jealousy, it was recorded of old, is as cruel as the grave, and as the hot flame of it grew in her heart, she almost hated the girl who was the occasion of it. 

As a matter of sober fact, Stane was thinking little of Miskodeedherself, but much of the information she had brought. Whilst he kepthis ears open for any unusual sounds outside the cabin, his mind wastrying to probe the mystery behind the attack that, as he was sure, waspreparing. Who was the inspirer of it, and why should his death bedesigned, whilst his companion must be spared? Miskodeed had spoken ofthe price that was to be paid for the attack--rifles and spirit, tea, molasses and blankets. The nature of the bribe was such as would temptany tribe in the North and was also such as implied a white man in thebackground. But who was the white man who so chose his instruments fora deed from which apparently he himself shrank? The question perplexedhim, and a deep furrow manifested itself between his eyes as he stroveto answer it. Ainley? He dallied with the thought for a little time, and then dismissed it. Ainley was afraid of him and shrank from meetinghim, but he would hardly go to such lengths as Miskodeed's statementimplied; nor would he involve Helen Yardely's life in the extreme riskincidental to an attack in force on the cabin. It was unthinkable!

His mind sought other explanations. Was there some other man, somewhite man who had seen Helen and by this means hoped to secure her forhimself? The thought was preposterous. Then a new thought leaped up. The reward Sir James was offering for his niece's recovery! Had someman his eye on that--some unscrupulous adventurer, who fearing possiblythat he himself might claim a share in it, proposed to get rid of himthat there might be no division of the spoil? That seemed barelyfeasible, and----

His thought suffered a sudden interruption. From outside came thecrunch of moccasined feet on the frozen snow. He started to his feet, and took up his rifle, glancing quickly at the girl as he did so. Therewas a flush of excitement in her face, but the eyes that met hischilled him with their unresponsiveness. He held out his machinepistol. 

"You had better have this, for the present, Miss Yardely, for I believethe attack is coming. But don't use it unless I tell you. "

She took the pistol without a word, and the austerity of her manner asshe did so, even in that moment, set him wondering what was the causeof it. But he had little time to dwell upon the matter for morefootsteps were audible, and a voice grunted words that he did notcatch. He picked up an ax, put it ready to his hand close to the doorand then extinguished the slush-lamp. 

The cabin was now full of shadows, though he could still see the girl'sface in the glare of the stove, and marked with satisfaction that itbore no sign of fear. The position where she stood, however, was not asafe one, and he was constrained to bid her change it. 

"You had better come into the corner here, Miss Yardely. It is out ofrange of any chance arrow through the window. That barricade of minecannot last long, and they are sure to try the window. "

The girl did not answer, but she changed her position, moving to thecorner he had indicated, and just as she did so, two or three blows ofan ax (as he guessed) knocked out the parchment of the window, but thebarricade stood firm. The attack however, continued, and as theimprovised shutter began to yield, Stane raised his rifle. 

"There is nothing else for it, " he whispered. 

The next moment the rifle cracked and the sound was followed by a cryof pain. 

"First blood!" he said, a little grimly. 

There was a short lull, then something heavy smashed against theshutter and it collapsed in the room. As it did so a gun barrel wasthrust in the opening, and a shot was fired apparently at random. Thebullet struck the cabin wall a full two yards from where Helen wasstanding. Stane turned to her quickly. 

"As close in the corner as you can get, Miss Yardely; then there willbe no danger except from a ricochet. "

Helen obeyed him. The excitement of the moment banished her resentment, and as she watched him standing there, cool and imperturbable as hewaited events, a frank admiration stirred within her. Whatever hissins, he was a man!

Then came a new form of attack. Arrows fired from different anglesbegan to fly through the open space, making a vicious sound as theystruck various parts of the cabin. Stane calculated the possible anglesof their flight and gave a short laugh. "They're wasting labour now. That dodge won't work. "

The flight of arrows, however, continued for a little time, thenfollowed that which Stane had begun to fear. The space of the windowsuddenly grew plainer, outlined by a glow outside, and the next momentthree blazing armfuls of combustible material were heaved in at thewindow. Stane fired twice during the operation, but whether he hit ornot he did not know. One of the burning bundles fell in the bunk, whichwas soon ablaze, and the cabin began to fill with smoke. At the sametime the besieged became aware of a fierce crackling outside, and theoutlook in the snow-covered lake was illumined by a growing glow. Staneunderstood the meaning of the phenomenon at once, and looked at thegirl. 

"They are trying to burn down the cabin, " he said. "I am afraid it is achoice of evils, Miss Yardely. We must either stay here, and die ofsuffocation or fire, or face the music outside. "

"Then let us go outside, " answered the girl resolutely. 

"I do not believe they will injure you. I believe that they have ordersto the contrary, but----"

"Did Miskodeed tell you so?"

For the moment he was utterly staggered by the question, thenperceiving that she knew of his recent interview with the Indian girl, he answered frankly:

"Yes! You are to be taken alive, but I am to die, according to theprogram as arranged!"

"Oh, no! no!" she cried in sudden anguish. "You must not die. You mustfight! You must live! live! I do not want you to die!"

In the growing light in the burning cabin he could see her face quiteplainly, and the anguished concern in her eyes shook him as the dangersaround him never could have done. Moved for a moment beyond himself, hestretched a hand towards her. 

"My dear!" he stammered. "My dear----"

"Oh then you know that I am that?" she cried. 

"I have known it for months!"

She made a little movement that brought her closer to him, and yieldingto the surging impulse in his heart, he threw an arm round her. 

"If you die----" she began, and broke off as a gust of smoke rolledover them. 

"I think it is very likely, " he answered. "But I am glad to have hadthis moment. "

He stooped and kissed her, and a sob came from her. 

"I shall die too!" she said. "We will die together--but it would havebeen splendid to live. "

"But you will live, " he said. "You must live. There is no need that youshould die. "

"But what shall I live for?" she cried. "And why am I to be spared?Have you thought of that?"

"Yes, " he answered quickly, and gave her a hurried account of his ownthought upon the matter. "If I am right no harm will befall you. And wemust go. It is time. Look!"

A little tongue of flame was creeping through the joining of the logsat one end of the cabin, and the logs where the bunk had been werebeginning to crackle and hiss ominously. The smoke had grown thicker, and the atmosphere was pungent and choking in its quality. He left herside for a moment, and returned with her furs. 

"You must put them on, " he said, "or you will freeze outside. "

He himself had slipped on his own furs, and when he had helped her intohers, he took his rifle and nodded towards the pistol which she stillheld. 

"You need not use it--outside, " he said. "Keep it for--foreventualities. You understand?"

"I understand, " she answered calmly, knowing that in the last resourceshe was to do what many women of her race had done before her. 

"I will go first, " he said. "And you must wait a full minute beforeemerging. I shall try and make for the woods at the back, and if I getclear you shall follow me--you understand?"

"Oh my man! my man!" she cried in a shaking voice, knowing that thoughhe spoke lightly, he had little hope of escape. 

Not knowing what to say, or how to comfort her, Stane took her in hisarms again, and kissed her, then for a moment he stood listening. Outside all was still or whatever sounds there were were drowned by theincreasing roar and crackle of the fire. 

"Now!" he said. "Now!"

He slipped down the bar, threw the door open suddenly and plungedoutside. A yell greeted his emergence and he was aware of a small groupof men standing a little way from the cabin. As he ran he fired at themfrom the hip; and turned sharply to the left. The two men appearedsuddenly from behind the trees to bar his way, so quickly that he hadnot time to fire the rifle before one of them grappled with him. Therifle fell from his hand, and for a moment they struggled, then whilstthe second man was still running, a shadowy figure slipped from behinda broad trunk close to where the two men were locked together, andStane caught the sudden gleam of a knife as the light from the fireglinted upon it. He was unable to help himself, and, held in hisantagonist's arms, he waited for the impending stroke. Twice the knifedescended, and his opponent's grip suddenly slackened and the man slidslowly to the ground. The running man had now reached the scene of thestruggle. He carried a hatchet in his hand, and he struck first at theunknown one who had killed his companion, and the unknown one went downlike a log. Before Stane had recovered from his surprise the ax wasraised again. He leaped at the man just as the ax descended. Anintervening bough turned the stroke, twisting the ax so that it caughtthe side of his head, knocking him senseless. As he fell to the ground, the Indian raised the ax once more. Before the blow could fall, a riflecracked in the wood behind him, and the attacker leaped in the air, andpitched forward upon his face. 

CHAPTER XVIII

A DEAD GIRL

"Ah! Dat better! By gar, but I think it was New Jerusalem for you distime!"

The words penetrated Stane's consciousness as he opened his eyes, andwere followed by others which he obeyed instinctively. "Tak' anoderdrink. Zee whisky veel vake you proper. "

He gulped from the tin pannikin which was held to his lips, and coughedas the raw, potent spirit burned his throat. Then he sat up and lookedat the man who was befriending him. 

"Who . .. Who are you?" he asked weakly. 

"I am Jean Bčnard. I come up zee lak' an' hear shots an' I see my cabinblaze like hell. I tink somethin' ver' badly wrong an' I turn to zeewoods. Den I see you rush out an' I hear you shoot as you run. I seedat big man struggle with you, I see him keeled by anoder who go down, aussi, and when zee man with zee ax mak' for you I begin to shoot. I amin zee wood, an' zee divils they do not see me, an' I pick off un, deux, trois! Dey are dere still, after dey others grow afraid an' runlike caribou with zee wolves at dere heels. It ees fine sport, an' Ishoot as dey ran, an' presently I am left alone. I shovel snow wit' asnow-shoe on my burning cabin, for I love dat petite cabin like achild, an' den I tink I take a look at you. You not dead, so I pour hotwhisky in your mouth an' you return from zee happy-huntin' grounds. Dere you have zee whole narrative. "

"But Helen?" cried Stane, looking round. "Where----"

"I haf seen not any mees!" answered the trapper. "I did not know datdere was----"

"Then they have taken her, " exclaimed Stane, staggering to his feet, and looking round. 

Jean Bčnard also looked round. Except for the figures lying prone inthe snow they were quite alone. "Dey must haf done, " he said, "eef derewas a mees!"

He looked at Stane, as if he doubted his sanity and Stane reassuredhim. "Oh I have not gone mad, Bčnard. There was a white girl with me inyour cabin, Miss Yardely. You must have heard----"

"Mees Yardely! She ees here?" cried the trapper in sudden excitement. 

"She was here!" corrected Stane. "I think she has been carried off. Wemust follow!"

"Oui! Oui!" replied Bčnard. "I haf heard of her. The factor at FortMalsun, he tell me to keep a bright look-out. Dere ees a reward----"

"We must get her!" interrupted Stane. "You must help me and I willdouble the reward. You understand?"

"Oui, I understand, m'sieu. Dis girl she ees mooch to you?"

"She is all the world to me. "

"Den we go, m'sieu. But first we feed an' rest zee dogs. We travelqueeck, after, vous comprenez? I will a meal make, an' your head itwill recover, den we travel lik' zee wind. "

The trapper made his way into the still smouldering hut, and began tobusy himself with preparations, whilst Stane looked round again. Thedarkness, and the figures lying in the snow gave the scene anindescribable air of desolation, and for a moment he stood withoutmoving; then, as something occurred to him, he began to walk towardsthe place where he had been struck down. Three figures lay therehuddled grotesquely in the snow, and to one of them he owed his life. Which of them was it? Two of the dead lay with their faces in the snow, but the third was on its back, face upward to the sky. He stood andlooked into the face. It was that of the man whom he had grappled, andwho had been struck down with the knife that he had expected to strikehimself. He looked at the other two. An ax lay close to the hand ofone, and he had no doubt that that one was the man who would have slainhim. The third one was his saviour. He looked again, and as he notedthe dress a cold fear gripped his heart, for it was the dress of awoman. He fell on his knees and turned the body over, then he bent overthe face. As he did so, he started back, and a sharp cry came from hislips. The cry brought Jean Bčnard from the hut at a run. 

"What ees it, m'sieu?" he asked as he reached Stane who knelt there asif turned to stone. 

"It is a dead girl, " answered Stane, brokenly--"a girl who gave herlife for mine. "

The trapper bent over the prostrate form, then he also cried out. 

"Miskodeed!"

"Yes! Miskodeed. I did not know it was she! She killed one of them withher knife, and she was slain by the other. "

"Whom I keel with the bullet!" For a moment Jean Bčnard said no more, but when he spoke again there was a choking sound in his voice. "I amglad I keel dat man! eef I haf not done so, I follow heem across zeeworld till it was done. " Something like a sob checked his utterance. "Ah, m'sieu, I love dat girl. I say to myself all zee way from GoodHope dat I weel her marry, an' I haf the price I pay her fader on zeesledge. I see her las' winter; but I not know den how it ees with me;but when I go away my heart cry out for her, an' my mind it ees makeup. .. . An' now she ees dead! I never tink of dat! I tink only of zeehappy years dat we weel haf togeder!"

He dropped suddenly in the snow, and bent over the face in its frozenbeauty, sobbing as only a strong man can. He bent lower and kissed theice-cold lips, whilst Stane staggered to his feet, and moved away. Hecould not endure to look on Jean Bčnard's grief. As he stood staringinto the darkness of the wood, he had a flashing memory of the Indiangirl's face as she had whisperingly asked him if he could not leaveHelen, the very note in her voice sounded in his ears, and, he knewwhat it was no harm for him to know then, that this child of thewilderness had given him her love, unsought. She had loved him, and shehad died for him, whilst a man who had loved her, now wept over herpoor body. The tragedy of it all shook him, and the irony of JeanBčnard's grief was almost beyond endurance. A great humility filled hisheart, and whilst he acquitted himself of blame, he regretted deeplyhis vehemence of repudiation. All her words came back to him in aflood. She must have guessed that he loved Helen; yet in the greatnessof her love, she had risked her life without hope, and died for himwithout shrinking. 

He began to walk to and fro, instinctively fighting the cold, with allhis mind absorbed in Miskodeed's little tragedy; but presently thethought of Helen came to him, and he walked quickly to where JeanBčnard still knelt in the snow. The trapper's face was hidden in hismittened hands. For a moment Stane hesitated, then he placed a hand onthe man's shoulder. 

"Jean Bčnard, " he said quietly, "there is work to do. "

Bčnard rose slowly to his feet, and in the little light reflected fromthe snow Stane read the grief of the man's heart in his face. 

"Oui! m'sieu! We must her bury; ma petite Miskodeed. "

"That, yes! But there is other work. "

"I could not endure to tink dat zee wolves get her----"

"I will help you, Jean. And then you will help me. "

"Non! m'sieu. Help I do not need. I weel myself do zee las' duty for mapauvre Miskodeed. My hands that would haf held an' fondled her, deyshall her prepare; an' I dat would haf died for her--I shall her bury. You, m'sieu, shall say zee prayer, for I haf not zee religion, but----"

"Call me when you are ready!" interrupted Stane, and turned away, finding the situation intolerably poignant. 

He went to the hut, and busied himself with the meal which the trapperhad been preparing, and presently Jean Bčnard called him. 

The man had swathed the dead girl in a blanket and had bent the tops ofa couple of small spruce, growing close together, almost to the ground, holding them in position with a sled thong. To the trees he had lashedthe corpse, and he was standing by with a knife in his hand. 

"Zee ground, " he said in a steady voice, "ees too frozen to dig. Webury Miskodeed in zee air; an' when zee spring winds blow an' theground grow soft again, I dig a grave. Now eef m'sieu ees ready we willhaf zee words of religion. "

Stane, almost choked at the poignant irony of the thing, then shapedhis lips to the great words that would have been strange if notunmeaning to the dead girl. 

_"I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in Me, thoughhe were dead yet shall he live. .. . _"

For the comfort of the man, who stood by knife in hand, he recitedevery word that he could remember, and when he reached the words, "Wetherefore commit her body to the grave, " the keen knife severed themoose-hide thong, and the trees, released, bent back, carrying thegirl's body to its windy sepulchre, amid a shower of snow thatscattered from the neighbouring trees. Stane pronounced thebenediction, waited a few moments, then again he put a hand on theother's shoulder. 

"Bčnard, we have done what we can for the dead; now we must think ofthe living. "

"Oui, m'sieu!"

"You must eat! I have prepared a meal. And when you have eaten and thedogs are ready we must start on the trail of Miss Yardely. "

"Oui, m'sieu. "

They returned to the hut together, and noting that some of the outerlogs were still smouldering, the trapper shovelled snow against themwith his snow-shoes, then they entered. The cabin was not so badlyburned as Stane had expected to find it. The bunk had burned out, butthe inner wall of the cabin had scarcely caught and the place was stilltenable. Bčnard blocked the window, and they sat down to eat. For atime the meal progressed in silence, Stane deliberately refraining fromspeech out of consideration for the feelings of his companion, thoughfrom time to time glancing at him he caught an expression of perplexityon the trapper's face. Suddenly Bčnard spoke. 

"But, m'sieu, I do not understand eet. You haf no quarrel with zeetribe?"

"None, " answered Stane, and then told him the facts communicated to himby Miskodeed. 

"Ah! then, m'sieu, dere ees a white man at zee back of things. DatChigmok, he ees no good, he what you call a rotter, but he not dare todo this ting heemself. "

"That is how I feel, " answered Stane. "But how we are to get at thetruth of the matter, I do not know. "

"We weel go to zee encampment. We weel mak' Chief George tell zeetruth. "

"If we can!" commented Stane dubiously. 

"As you say, eef we can. But somethings we shall learn, m'sieu, dat eescertain. "

"I hope so, Jean. "

An hour afterwards they started, following the trail up the lake leftby the fugitives, a broadly marked trail, which revealed that a sledgehad been used, for there were the marks of the runners both coming andgoing. As they started, the trapper pointed this out. 

"You see, m'sieu, dey come prepared. Dey know dat your Helen she weelnot walk; therefore dey bring zee sled, an' lash her thereto. "

"Yes! That seems likely, " agreed Stane, his heart aflame with wrath atthe thought of the possible indignities to which the girl might havebeen subjected. In silence they travelled up the lake, and after a timereached the place where the moose-hide tepees lifted their shadowyforms against the background of snow and trees. The camp was dark andsilent as a place of the dead. For a moment the thought that the wholetribe had moved away, deserting their tents, held Stane's mind; but itwas dispelled by the whisper of Jean Bčnard. 

"Do you stay here with zee dogs, m'sieu, whilst I go drag out ChiefGeorge. Have zee rifle ready; an' eef dere is trouble, be prompt at zeeshootin'. Vous comprenez?"

"Yes, " answered Stane, "if there is trouble I will not hesitate. "

He stood with the rifle ready, watching Bčnard's progress across thesnow. He saw him reach the chief's tepee, and throw open the moose-hideflap, then disappear inside. He waited for what seemed an intolerabletime, and once heard a rustle from the nearest tepee, and divined thatin spite of the stillness of the camp, quick eyes were watching thedoings of his companion and himself. Then he caught a coughing grunt, and out of the tepee which the trapper had entered, emerged two forms, the first bent and shambling, the other that of Jean Bčnard. Theypicked their way, walking close together, between the moose-hide tents, and as they drew near the sledge, Stane saw that the shambling form wasthat of Chief George, and that he walked with the muzzle of thetrapper's pistol in the small of his back. 

"We weel go forwards up zee lak' a leetle way, m'sieu, out ofarrow-shot. Den Chief George he weel talk or die. "

They marched up the lake five hundred yards or more, the camp behindthem maintaining the silence of the dead, then Bčnard halted. 

"Now, " he said, "we weel talk!"

Pointing his pistol at the Indian and speaking in the patois of thetribe, he addressed him. 

"What means the attack upon my cabin?"

"I know nothing, " mumbled the Indian, shaking with fear or cold. "Itwas Chigmok--my sister's son--who led the young men away. "

"So! But thou hast seen the rifles and the burning water, the blankets, the tea and the molasses which are the price to be paid. I know thatthou hast seen them. " At the words the Chief started a little, then hemade a mumbling admission:

"Yes, I have seen them. They are a great price. "

"But who pays?"

"I know not. A white man, that is all I know. The rest is known toChigmok alone. "

Bčnard considered the answer for a moment, and entertaining no doubtthat it was the true one, wasted no further time in that direction. 

"Whither has the white maiden been carried?"

Chief George waved his hand to the East. "Through the woods to the lakeof Little Moose, there to meet the man who pays the price. "

"These words are the words of truth?" asked the trapper, harshly. "Ifthou liest----"

"Wherefore should I lie, since so much is already known to thee?"interrupted the Indian. 

"It would be unwise, " agreed Bčnard, and then asked: "What is to bedone to the white girl by the man who pays the price?"

"I know not; belike he will take her for his squaw, or wherefore shouldhe pay so great a price?"

Bčnard looked at Stane. "Dere ees nothing more dat he can tell. I sureof dat, an' we waste time. "

"Yes! Let him go. "

The trapper nodded and then addressed the Indian once more. "Thou wiltgo back to thy lodge now, but this is not the end. For the evil thathath been done the price will have to be paid. Later the men of thelaw, the riders-of-the-plains, will come and thee they will take----"

"It is Chigmok, my sister's son, who planned----"

"But it is thee they will take for punishment and Chigmok also. Nowgo!"

Chief George waited for no second bidding, but began to shamble offacross the snow towards his encampment. The two men watched him go, insilence for a little time, and then Stane spoke. 

"This lake of the Little Moose, where is it?"

"About sixteen miles to zee East. It ees known to me. A leetle lak'desolate as hell, in zee midst of hills. We weel go there, an' find diswhite man an' Mees Yardely. "

"We must make speed or the man may be gone, " responded Stane. 

"Oui, I know! We weel travel through zee night. There be two waysthither, the one through zee woods an' zee oder between zee hills. Zeeway of zee woods ees zee mos' easy, but dat of zee hills ees shorter. We weel take dat, an' maybe we give Chigmok and his white man onesurprise. "

Under the light of the stars, and helped by the occasional flashinglight of the aurora, they travelled up the lake for some distance, thenleaving its surface they turned abruptly eastward, following anunbroken trail through a country which began rapidly to alter incharacter. The great woods thinned out and the way they followed tookan upward swing, whilst a steady wind with the knife-edge cold of theNorth began to blow in their faces. Stane at the gee-pole of thesledge, bent his head before the sharp particles of ice-like snow thatit brought with it, and grew anxious lest they should be the vanguardof a storm. But looking up he saw the stars clear overhead, andguessing that the particles came from the trees and the high ground oneither side of them, his fears left him. 

Then a new and very real trouble assailed him. He began to have crampsin the calves of his legs, and it seemed as if his muscles were tyingthemselves into knots. Sharp pains in the groin made it a torture tolift his feet above the level of the snow; and once or twice he couldhave groaned with the pain. But he set his teeth grimly, and endured itin silence, thinking of the girl moving somewhere ahead in the hands ofa lawless and ruthless man. He knew that the torture he was sufferingwas what was known among the voyageurs as _mal de roquette_, induced bya considerable tramp on snow-shoes after a long spell of inactivity, and that there was no relief from it, until it should gradually passaway of its own accord. 

The trail was not an easy one, and the dogs whined as they bent to thecollars, but Jean Bčnard, with a frame of iron and with muscles likesteel-springs marched steadily on, for what to Stane seemed hours, thenin the shelter of a cliff crowned with trees he called a halt. 

"We rest here, " he said, "an' wait for zee daylight. Den we look downon zee lak' of zee Leetle Moose. We mak' fire behind zee rock. "

Without more ado, he slipped the harness from the dogs and fed them, whilst Stane collected wood for a fire, which was made as an Indianmakes his fire, small and round, and which, built behind a mass ofrock, was hidden from any one on the lake-side of the trail. Then ameal was prepared of which both partook heartily; and over the pipesthey sat to await the dawn. After a little while Stane, in spite of hisconsuming anxiety for Helen, under the genial warmth of the fire andthe fatigue induced by the strenuous march, began to nod, and at lastfell sound asleep. But Jean Bčnard watched through the night, a look ofhopelessness shadowing his kindly face. 

CHAPTER XIX

A HOT TRAIL

The cold Northland dawn had broken when Stane was roused from his sleepby the voice of his companion. 

"M'sieu! m'sieu! It ees time to eat!"

Stane rubbed his eyes and looked round. Then he stood upright andstretched himself, every stiff muscle crying out against the process. He looked at the waiting breakfast and then at Bčnard. One glance atthe drawn face of the latter told him that he had not slept, but herefrained from comment on the fact, knowing well what thoughts musthave made sleep impossible for him. 

"Have you seen anything yet, Jean?" he asked as he seated himselfagain. 

"Not yet, m'sieu, " answered the trapper. "But eef Chief George did notlie we cannot miss Chigmok--an zee oders. "

"But if he lied?" asked Stane with a sudden accession of anxiety. 

"Then we shall haf to range an' find zee trail. But I do not tink helie. He too mooch afraid! Eat, m'sieu, den we can watch zee lak' forzee comin' of Chigmok. "

Stane ate his breakfast quickly, and when he had finished, accompaniedBčnard a little way up the trail, which running along the base of thecliff by which they had camped, made a sudden turn between the rocksand unexpectedly opened out on a wide view. 

Before him lay the snow-covered lake of the Little Moose, a narrow lakeperhaps fifteen miles long. On one side ran a range of high rockyhills, a spur of which formed his own vantage place, and on the otherside were lower hills covered with bush and trees almost to theircrests. From the height where he stood he had an almost bird's-eye viewof the lake, and he examined it carefully. Nothing moved on its virginsurface of snow. It was as blank as Modred's shield. He examined theshore at the foot of the wood-covered hills carefully. Creek by creek, bay by bay, his eye searched the shore-line for any sign of life. Hefound none, nowhere was there any sign of life; any thin column ofsmoke betokening the presence of man. He looked at the other shore ofthe lake, though without any expectation of finding that which hesought. It was bleak and barren, and precipitous in places, where thehills seemed to rise directly from the lake's edge. Nothing movedthere, and a single glance told him that the land trail on that sidewas an impossibility. He looked at his companion. 

"Dey haf not yet arrive, " said Bčnard, answering his unspoken question. "Dey camp in zee woods for zee night. "

"If Chief George lied----"

"I say again I tink he not lie. We must haf zee patience, m'sieu. Dereis noding else dat we can do. We are here an' we must watch. "

The minutes passed slowly, and to keep themselves from freezing the twomen were forced to do sentry-go on the somewhat narrow platform wherethey stood, occasionally varying the line of their short march byturning down the trail towards their camp, a variation which forperhaps a couple of minutes hid the lake from view. Every time they soturned, when the lake came in sight again, Stane looked down its lengthwith expectation in his eyes, and every time he was disappointed. Anhour passed and still they watched without any sign of their quarry tocheer them. Then Jean Bčnard spoke. 

"We tire ourselves for noding, m'sieu. We walk, walk, walk togeder, an'when Chigmok come we too tired to follow heem. It ees better dat wewatch in turn. "

Stane admitted the wisdom of this, and since he felt that it wasimpossible for himself to sit still, and suspected that his companionwas sadly in need of rest, he elected to keep the first watch. 

"Very well, Jean, do you go and rest first; but tell me before you gowhere the party we are looking for should strike the lake. "

"Ah, I forgot to tell you dat, m'sieu. " He pointed towards the southernshore of the lake, where a small tree-covered island stood about half amile from the shore. "You see zee island, m'sieu. Just opposite dereees a creek. Zee regular trail comes out to zee lak' just dere, an' itees dere dat you may look for zee comin' of Chigmok. "

Stane looked at the island and marked the position of the creek, thenan idea struck him. "Would it not be better, Bčnard, if we removed ourcamp to the island? We could then surprise Chigmok when he came. "

"Non, m'sieu! I tink of dat las' night; but I remember dat we mustbuild a fire, an' zee smoke it tell zee tale; whilst zee odour it eesperceived afar. Den zee dogs, dey give tongue when oder dogs appear, an' where are we? Anoder ting, s'pose Chigmok not come zee regulartrail; s'pose he knew anoder way through zee woods, an' come outfurther up zee lak'. Eef we on zee island we not see heem, but uphere--" he swept a hand in front of him--"we behold zee whole lak' andwe not miss him. "

"Yes, " agreed Stane. "You are right, Jean. Now go and rest. I will keepa bright look-out. "

"I not doubt dat, m'sieu. You haf zee prize to watch for, but I----"

He turned away without finishing his sentence, and Stane resumed hissentry go, stopping from time to time to view the long expanse of thesnow-covered lake, and to search the woods along the shore. As the timepassed without bringing any change, and as the unbroken surface of thesnow mocked him with its emptiness, he grew sick at heart, and afeverish anxiety mounted within him. He felt utterly helpless, and afear that Chief George had lied, and had deliberately misled them, grewin him till it reached the force of conviction. Watching that emptyvalley of the lake, he felt, was a waste of time. To be doing nothing, when Helen was being hurried to be knew not what fate, was torture tohim. It would, he thought, be better to go back on their trail, andendeavour to pick up that of the kidnappers, since that way they wouldat least be sure that they were on the right lines. So strongly didthis idea appeal to him, that he turned down the trail to the camp topropose the plan to his companion. But when he turned the corner of thecliff, it was to find Jean Bčnard fast asleep in front of the fire, andthough his first impulse was to waken him, he refrained, rememberinghow tired the man must be, and how necessary it was that he should beas fresh as possible when the moment for action arrived. 

"No, " he whispered, as he looked at the bent form of the sleeping man. "I will wait one hour, and then we will decide. "

He himself was beginning to feel the strain of the steady marching toand fro, and decided that it would be wise to spare himself as much aspossible. Accordingly he seated himself by the fire, contenting himselfby walking to the top of the trail to view the lake at intervals offrom twelve to fifteen minutes. Twice he did this and the second timewas made aware of a change in the atmosphere. It had grown much colderand as he turned the corner of the cliff a gust of icy-wind smote himin the face. He looked downwards. The surface of the lake was stillbarren of life; but not of movement. Films of snow, driven by the gustywind, drove down its narrow length, were lifted higher and thensubsided as the wind fell. Overhead the sky was of a uniform leaden hueand he knew that before long there would be snow. And if snow came----

His heart stood almost still at the thought. It might snow for days, and in the storm, when all trails would be obliterated it would be aneasy matter to miss Helen and her captors altogether. As he returned tothe fire, his mind was full of forebodings. He was afraid, and thoughJean Bčnard slept on, he himself could not rest. He made up the fire, prepared bacon and moose meat for cooking, set some coffee to boil. Itwould be as well to have a meal in case the necessity for a startshould arise. These things done he went once more to the outlook, andsurveyed the snow-covered landscape. The wind was still for the moment, and there were no wandering wisps of snow. His first glance was towardsthe creek opposite the island. There was nothing there to arrestattention. His eyes travelled further without any light of expectationin them. Creek by creek, bay by bay, he followed the shore line, then, in a second, his gaze grew fixed. The lake was no longer devoid oflife. Far-off, at least ten miles, as he swiftly calculated, a blur ofblack dots showed on the surface of the snow. Instantly he knew it forwhat it was--a team of sled dogs. His heart leaped at the sight, andthe next moment he was running towards the camp. 

"Jean! Jean!" he cried. "Jean Bčnard!"

The sleeping man passed from slumber to full wakefulness with thecompleteness that characterizes a healthy child. 

"Ah, m'sieu, " he said, standing upright. "Dey haf arrive?"

"I do not know. But there is a dog-train a long way up the lake. "

"I weel tak' one look, " said the trapper, beginning to walk quicklytowards the head of the trail. 

Stane went with him and indicated the direction. 

"There, where the shore sweeps inward! Do you see, Jean?"

"Oui, m'sieu. "

With bent brows the trapper stared at the blur of dots on the whitesurface, and after a couple of seconds began to count softly tohimself. "Un, deux, trois, quatre----" Then he stopped. "Four dogs andone man, " he said, turning to his companion. "But Chigmok it ees not. Behold, m'sieu, he comes dis way. "

"Then who----"

"Dat ees not to be told. Zee men in zee wilderness are many. " As hefinished speaking a gust of wind drove suddenly in their faces, bringing with it a few particles of snow, and he looked up into theleaden sky. "Presently, " he said, "it weel snow, m'sieu. Let us go andeat, then eef Chigmok has not appeared we weel go meet dat man outdere. He may haf zee news. "

Reluctantly Stane turned with him, and went back to the camp. He had nodesire for food, but he forced himself to eat, and when the meal wasfinished he assisted his companion to load the sledge. Then Bčnardspoke again. 

"We weel tak' one look more, m'sieu, before we harness zee dogs. "

They went up to the outlook together. The lake once more showed itswhite expanse unbroken; the little blot of moving dots havingwithdrawn. Stane stared on the waste, with an expression of blankdismay upon his face, then he turned to his companion. 

"Zee man, he camp, " explained Bčnard. "He not pushed for time, an' heknow it snow b'fore long. We find heem, m'sieu, an' den--By gar! Lookdere!"

As he gave vent to the exclamation, he pointed excitedly up the lake, two miles beyond the island, the neighbourhood of which Stane had gazedat so often and hopelessly during the last three hours. A dog-train hadbroken from the wood, and taken to the surface of the lake, three menaccompanying it. 

"Chigmok! Behold, m'sieu!"

On a mutual impulse they turned and running back to the camp, beganhurriedly to harness the dogs to the sledge. A few minutes later theywere on the move, and turning the corner of the cliff began the descenttowards the lake. As they did so both glanced at the direction of thesled they were pursuing. It was moving straight ahead, fairly close inshore, having evidently sought the level surface of the lake for easiertravelling. More than that they had not leisure to notice, for thedescent to the lake was steep, and it required the weight and skill ofboth to keep the sled from overrunning the dogs, but in the space offour minutes it was accomplished, and with a final rush they took thelevel trail of the lake's frozen and snow-covered surface. As they didso a gust of wind brought a scurry of snow in their faces, and Bčnardlooked anxiously up into the sky. 

"By-an'-by it snow like anythin', m'sieu. We must race to catch Chigmokb'fore it come. "

Without another word he stepped ahead, and began to make the trail forthe dogs, whilst Stane took the gee-pole to guide the sledge. Bčnardbent to his task and made a rattling pace, travelling in a bee-line fortheir quarry, since the lake's surface offered absolutely noobstructions. Stane at the gee-pole wondered how long he could keep itup, and from time to time glanced at the sled ahead, which, seen fromthe same level, now was half-hidden in a mist of snow. He noted withsatisfaction that they seemed to be gaining on it; and rejoiced tothink that, as Jean Bčnard's dogs were in fine mettle and absolutelyfresh, they could not be long before they overhauled it. Presently thetrapper stopped to rest, and Stane himself moved ahead. 

"I will take a turn at trail-breaking, " he said, "and do you runbehind, Jean. "

It was a different matter going ahead of the dogs on the unbroken snow. In a little time his muscles began to ache intolerably. It seemed as ifthe ligaments of the groin were being pulled by pincers, and the verybone of the leg that he had broken, seemed to burn with pain. Butagain, as on the previous night, he set his teeth, and defied thedreaded _mal de roquette_. New hope sustained him; before him, withinsight as he believed, was the girl, whom, in the months of theirwilderness sojourn, he had learned to love, and who on the previousnight (how long ago it seemed!) in the face of imminent death, hadgiven herself to him unreservedly. His blood quickened at theremembrance. He ignored the pangs he was enduring. The sweat, inducedby the violent exertion froze on eyebrows and eyelashes, but he ignoredthe discomfort, and pressed on, the snow swirling past his ankles in aminiature storm. Twice or thrice he lifted his bent head and measuredthe distance between him and the quarry ahead. It was, he thoughtnearer, and cheered, he bent his body again to the nerve-racking toil. 

Half an hour passed, and though the wind was rising steadily, blowingstraight in their teeth and adding greatly to their labours, the snowkept off. They were still gaining slowly, creeping forward yard byyard, the men with the train ahead apparently unaware of their pursuit. Then they struck the trail made by their quarry and the work becameless arduous and the pace quickened. 

"By gar!" cried Bčnard as they hit the trail, "we get dem now, dey makezee trail for us. "

"Yes, " answered Stane, his eyes ablaze with excitement. 

A mile and three quarters now separated the two teams, and as theyfollowed in the trail that the others had to make, their confidenceseemed justified. But nature and man alike were to take a hand andupset their calculations. In the wind once more there came a smother ofsnow. It was severe whilst it lasted, and blotted out all vision of theteam ahead. As it cleared, the two pursuers saw that their quarry hadturned inshore, moving obliquely towards a tree-crowned bluff thatjutted out into the lake. Jean Bčnard marked the move, and spoke almostgleefully. 

"Dey fear zee snow, an' go to make camp. By zee mass, we get dem like awolf in zee trap!"

The sledge they pursued drew nearer the bluff, then suddenly JeanBčnard threw back his head in a listening attitude. 

"Hark!" he cried: "what was dat?"

"I heard nothing, " answered Stane. "What did you fancy you----"

The sentence was never finished, for borne to him on the wind came twoor three sharp sounds like the cracks of distant rifles. He looked athis companion. 

"The detonation of bursting trees far in the wood, " he began, only tobe interrupted. 

"Non, non! not zee trees, but rifles, look dere, m'sieu, someting eeshappening. "

It certainly seemed so. The sled which had almost reached the bluff, had swung from it again, and had turned towards the open lake. But now, instead of three figures, they could see only one; and even whilst theywatched, again came the distant crack of a rifle--a faint far-awaysound, something felt by sensitive nerves rather than anythingheard--and the solitary man left with the sledge and making for thesanctuary of the open lake, plunged suddenly forward, disappearing fromsight in the snow. Another fusillade, and the sled halted, just as thetwo men broke from the cover of the bluff and began to run across thesnow in the direction of it. 

"By gar! By gar!" cried Jean Bčnard in great excitement. "Tings deyhappen. Dere are oder men who want Chigmok, an' dey get heem, too. "

Then with a clamouring wind came the snow, blotting out all furthervision of the tragedy ahead. It hurtled about them in fury, and theycould see scarcely a yard in front of them. It was snow that was vastlydifferent from the large soft flakes of more temperate zones--a wildrain of ice-like particles that, as it struck, stung intolerably, andwhich, driven in the wind, seemed like a solid sheet held up to veilthe landscape. It swirled and drifted about them and drove in theirfaces as if directed by some malevolent fury. It closed their eyes, clogged their feet, stopped their breathing, and at the moment when itwas most essential, made progress impossible. Dogs and men bowed to thestorm, and after two minutes of lost endeavour in attempting to faceit, the course was altered and they raced for the shore and thefriendly shelter of the trees. When they reached it, breathless andgasping, they stood for a moment, whilst the storm shrieked among thetree-tops and drove its icy hail like small shot against the trunks. Inthe shelter of one of them, Stane, as his breath came back to him, swung his rifle off his shoulder, and began to strip from it thedeer-hide covering. Jean Bčnard saw him, and in order to make himselfheard shouted to him. 

"What you do, m'sieu?"

"I'm going after them, Jean. There's something badly wrong. "

"Oui! But with zee storm, what can you do, m'sieu?"

"I can find that girl, " he said. "Think, man, if she is bound to thesled--in this----"

"Oui! Oui! m'sieu, I understand, but----"

"I shall work my way in the cover of the trees till I reach the bluff. If the storm abates you will follow but do not pass the bluff. Therewill be shelter in the lee of it, and I will wait your coming there. "

"Go, and God go with you, m'sieu; but do not forget zee rifles whichwere fired dere. "

"I will keep them in mind, " answered Stane, and then setting his faceto the storm, he began to work his way along the edge of the wood. 

CHAPTER XX

A PRISONER

When Hubert Stane left the burning cabin, Helen did not obey hisinjunctions to the letter. A full minute she was to wait in the shadowof the door before emerging, but she disregarded the command altogetherin her anxiety to know what fate was to befall him. She guessed that onhis emergence he expected a volley, and had bidden her remain undercover until the danger from it should have passed; and being morallycertain that he was going to his death, she had a mad impulse to diewith him in what was the supreme hour of her life. As the yell greetedhis emergence, she caught the sound of the rifle-shot, and not knowingthat it had been fired by Stane himself, in an agony of fear for him, stepped recklessly to the door. She saw him running towards the trees, saw him grappled by the Indian who barred the way, and beheld thesecond figure rise like a shadow by the side of the struggling men. Theraised knife gleamed in the firelight, and with a sharp cry of warningthat never reached Stane, she started to run towards him. The nextmoment something thick and heavy enveloped her head and shoulders, shewas tripped up and fell heavily in the snow, and two seconds later wasconscious of two pairs of hands binding her with thongs. The coveringover her head, a blanket by the feel of it, was bound about her, sothat she could see nothing, and whilst she could still hear, the soundsthat reached her were muffled. Her feet were tied, and for a briefspace of time she was left lying in the snow, wondering in an agonizedway, not what was going to happen to herself, but what had alreadyhappened to her lover. 

Then there came a sound that made her heart leap with hope--a soundthat was the unmistakable crack of a rifle. Again the rifle spoke, three times in rapid succession, and from the sounds she conjecturedthat the fight was not yet over, and felt a surge of gladness in herheart. Then she was lifted from the ground, suddenly hurried forward, and quite roughly dropped on what she guessed was a sledge. Again handswere busy about her, and she knew that she was being lashed to thechariot of the North. There was a clamour of excited voices, again thecrack of the rifle, then she felt a quick jerk, and found the sled wasin motion. 

She had no thought of outside intervention and as the sled went forwardat a great pace, notwithstanding her own parlous condition, sherejoiced in spirit. Whither she was being carried, and what the fatereserved for her she had not the slightest notion; but from therifle-shots, and the manifest haste of her captors, she argued that herlover had escaped, and believing that he would follow, she was in goodheart. 

That she was in any immediate danger, she did not believe. Her captors, on lashing her to the sledge, had thrown some soft warm covering overher, and that they should show such care to preserve her from thebitter cold, told her, that whatever might ultimately befall, she wasin no imminent peril. With her head covered, she was as warm as if shewere in a sleeping bag, the sled ran smoothly without a single jar, andthe only discomfort that she suffered came from her bound limbs. 

Knowing how vain any attempt at struggle would be, she lay quietly;reflecting on all the events of the night. Strong in the faith thatStane had escaped, she rejoiced that these events had forced from hislips the declaration that in the past few weeks she had seen himrepress again and again. He could never recall it; and those kisses, taken in the very face of death, those were hers until the end of time. Her heart quickened as she thought of them, and her lips burned. Itwas, she felt, a great thing to have snatched the deepest gladness oflife in such an hour, and to have received an avowal from a man whobelieved that he was about to die for her. And what a man!

The thought of Miskodeed occurred to her; but now it did not troubleher very greatly. That visit of the Indian girl to the cabin had atfirst been incomprehensible except on one hateful supposition; butStane's words had made it clear that the girl had come to warn them, and if there was anything behind that warning, if, as she suspected, the girl loved Stane with a wild, wayward love, that was not the man'sfault. She remembered his declaration that he had never seen Miskodeedexcept on the two occasions at Fort Malsun, and though Ainley's evilsuggestions recurred to her mind, she dismissed them instantly. Herlover was her own----

The sledge came to a sudden standstill; and lying there she caught aclamour of excited voices. She listened carefully, but such words asreached her were in a tongue unknown to her. A few minutes passed, something was thrown on the sled, close by her feet, then a whipcracked, a dog yelped, and again the sledge moved forward. 

She was quite warm, and except for the thongs about her, comfortable, and presently her eyes closed, at first against the rather oppressivedarkness resulting from the covering blanket, then remained closedwithout any conscious volition, and she slept, heavily and dreamlessly. 

She was awakened by the sled coming to a standstill; and then followedthe sounds of men pitching camp; the crackle of a fire, the growlingand yelping of dogs quarrelling over their food. She did not know howlong she had slept; but after awakening, it seemed a very long timebefore any one came near her. Then she caught the sound of stepscrunching the frozen snow. The steps halted by the sledge and handsbusied themselves with the fastenings. A minute later she felt that herlimbs were free; and as the blanket was jerked from her head, shelooked round. 

It was still night, but by the light of a fire by which two men weresitting smoking, she caught the sight of overhanging trees and of a manwho was standing by the sledge, looking down upon her. His face was inshadow and could not be seen, but the voice in which he addressed herwas harsh and guttural, his manner almost apologetic. 

"You stan' up now, mees. "

As the blanket was jerked from her, Helen was conscious of a littleprick of fear, but as the man spoke the fear vanished quicker than ithad arisen. From the fact that he addressed her as miss, it was clearthat he held her in some respect, whilst his manner spoke volumes. Thewords, though harshly spoken, were an invitation rather than a command, and accepting it as such, she first sat up, waited until a littleattack of dizziness passed and then rose slowly to her feet. She swayeda little as she did so, and the man stretched a quick hand to steadyher. 

"Vait min'te, " he said, "zee seeckness et veel pass. "

It passed quicker than the man knew, and as the man had moved, bringinghis face to the light, Helen used the opportunity to survey the manbehind the mittened hand which she had lifted to her head. He was, shesaw, a half-breed of evil, pock-marked countenance, with cruel eyes. Who he was she had not the slightest notion, but curiosity was strongwithin her, and as she lowered her hand, she waited for him to speakagain. 

"Ve vait here, leetle taime--une hour, deux, maybe tree. Zee dogs deytire. But you veel not runs away. Dat vaire fool ting to do. Zee woodet ees so vast, an' zee wolves are plenty. You come to zee fire an'eat. "

He moved towards the fire, as if certain that she would follow, andafter one glance into the deep shadows of the forest, she did so. Whoever the man was, and whatever his intentions towards her, he talkedsense. Flight without equipment or food, in a strange country, and inface of the menace of the arctic North would be the wildest folly. Sheseated herself on a log which had been placed for her convenience, accepted some fried moose-meat and unsweetened tea, whilst the othertwo men by the fire, both Indians, smoked stolidly, without bestowingupon her a single glance whilst she ate. When she had finished shepushed the tin plate from her, and looked at the half-breed, who hadseated himself a yard or so away from her. 

"Who are you?" she asked. 

"Ah not tell you dat!" said the man with a grin. 

"Then tell me what are you going to do with me?"

"You fin' dat out for yourself in a vaire leetle taime, " was theanswer. 

"Then where are you taking me?"

"Oh--Ah tell you dat, mees!" was the reply, given in a manner thatimplied that the speaker was glad to find something in which he couldoblige her. "Ah tak' you to see lak' of zee Leetle Moose, ten, maybedouze miles away. "

"But why should you take me there?" asked Helen. 

"Non! Ah not tell you dat! You fin' out all in zee good taime, " was thereply stolidly given. 

Helen looked at the evil, cunning face, and knew that it was no usepursuing inquiries in that direction. She waited a full minute, thenshe began to ask another question, to her of even vaster moment:

"That man who was with me in the cabin, he----"

"Sacree!" cried the half-breed in a sudden burst of fury. "Dat man heees dead, Par Dieu! an' eef he was not, I roast heem alive!"

"Dead!" As the exclamation broke from her, the girl looked at thehalf-breed with eyes in which gleamed a sudden fear. Then hope came toher as she remembered the shots that she had heard. "But, " sheprotested, "he was firing on you as you left. It cannot be that he----"

"Non!" broke in the half-breed. "Dat man was with you he fire onleeonce, den he die. Dose shots dey come from zee wood, an' I not know whofire dem. Eet was strange, I not know eef there be one man or more, soI run aways wit' you. "

He had more to say upon that particular matter, but Helen Yardely hadno ears for his words. Her hope was completely shattered by thehalf-breed's explanation of those pursuing shots. From them, believingthey had come from her lover's rifle, she had argued with certaintythat he had survived the attack, that he was alive; and now----

Dead! As the word beat in her brain, she was overwhelmed by a feelingof despair; and bowing her face suddenly in her hands gave way to hergrief. Great sobs shook her shoulders, and scalding tears welled in hereyes. Her lover had indeed gone to his death after all, had given hislife for hers as at the very beginning of their acquaintance he hadrisked it to the same end of saving her!

The callous half-breed was disturbed by the utter abandon of her grief. In his brutal nature there was a stirring of unusual compunction, andafter watching her for a moment, he strove to console her, speaking ina wheedling voice. 

"No need to weep lik' zee rain in spring, mees! What ees one man whenmen are as zee leaves of zee forest? Dis man dead! True--but eet ees asmall ting--zee death of a man. An' I tak' you to anodder man----"

"You will what?" Helen looked up sharply as she asked the question. There was a light of wrath struggling with the grief in her eyes andthe half-breed was startled by it. 

"I tak' you to anodder man who weel lov' you as white squaws desire. He----"

"Who is this man?" she asked, suddenly interrupting him. 

But the half-breed developed a sudden wariness. 

"Non!" he said. "I not tell you dat, for why, zee surprise it veel bezee more pleasant!"

"Pleasant!" cried Helen, wrath uppermost in her heart once more. "Pleasant! I----" She checked herself, then as something occurred toher she asked another question. 

"This man whom you promise me? He pays you to bring me to him?"

"Oui! He pays a great price!"

"Why?"

"I not know! How can I tell what ees in zee heart of heem? But it eesin my mind dat he burns with love, dat----"

Helen rose suddenly from her seat. "I will tell you something, " shesaid in a voice that made the callous half-breed shiver. "When youbring me to this man I will kill him because that other man has died!"

"I not care what you do wid heem!" answered her captor with a brutallaugh. "You marrie heem, you keel heem, it ees all zee same to me, Iget zee price, an' I do not love dat mans, no. "

"Tell me who is he--his name, and I will pay you double the price hepromises. "

The half-breed smiled cunningly. "Where is your double zee price? Zeeprice dat man pay I haf seen. Eet ees real! Eet ees a good price! Non!mees; a promise what ees dat? A red fox in zee trap ees more dan asilvaire fox in zee wood. Dis man half zee goods, an' you--what hafyou?"

He lit his pipe and turned from her to the fire. Helen gave him oneglance and guessed that it was useless to try to bribe him further, then she turned and began to walk restlessly to and fro. There was aset, stony look of grief on her face; but deep in the grey eyes burneda light that boded ill for the man who had brought the grief upon her. 

Time passed, and she still marched to and fro. The half-breed wasnodding over the fire, and his two companions were sound asleep. Underher fur parka she felt the butt of the pistol which Stane had givenher, when the attack on the cabin had commenced. She looked at thethree men, and with her hand on the pistol-butt the thought came to hermind that it would be a simple thing to kill them in their sleep, andto take the dogs and so effect her escape. They were murderers; theydeserved to die; and she felt that she could kill them withoutcompunction. But her eyes swept the dark circle of trees, and for amoment she stared into the darkness with fixed gaze, then her handslipped from the pistol, and she put from her the thought that had cometo her. It was not fear of the darkness or any terror at the hazards ofthe frozen wilderness that deterred her from the attempt; it was justthat there was within her a fierce, overwhelming desire, to meet theman who was the ultimate cause of her lover's death. 

When the half-breed rose, and ordered her to resume her place on thesledge, she did so without demur, making herself as comfortable aspossible. She was bound to the sledge again, though, when they resumedthe journey, she was less like a mere bale than she had been, and wasfree to lift the blanket which now was thrown over her head forprotection from the extreme cold more than for any other reason. Butonly once before the dawn did she avail herself of this privilege tolook about her, and that was when the second halt was made. She liftedthe blanket to learn the cause of the delay; and made the discoverythat the dog-harness having become entangled in the branch of a fallentree, had broken and the halt was necessary for repairs. She droppedher head-covering again and lay there in the darkness, wild thoughtsmingling with her grief. She chafed at the delay. Her one anxiety wasfor the meeting that should involve a terrible justice; the man shoulddie as her lover had died; and her own hand should inflict upon him therecompense of God. 

The sullen dawn of the Northern winter had broken when she lifted theblanket again. They were still in the forest, having lost the trail inthe darkness, and presently a fresh halt was necessary, and whilst twoof the men prepared a meal, her chief captor went off through the woodsas she guessed to discover their whereabouts. He returned in the courseof half an hour and said something to his companion which Helen did notunderstand; and after a rather leisurely meal they harnessed up oncemore. 

After a time the forest began to open out. They struck a frozen riverand descending the bank and taking to its smooth surface, their speedaccelerated. The banks of the river widened, and in a little time theyswept clear of them on to the open plain of what she easily guessed wasa frozen lake. They turned sharply to the right, and a few minutesafterwards a whirl of snow caused her to cover her face. Someconsiderable time passed before she looked forth again. They weretravelling at a great rate. The snow was flying from the shoes of theman who broke the trail. The half-breed who was acting as driver wasurging the dogs with both whip and voice, and occasionally he cast ananxious look over his shoulder. Wondering why he should do so Helenalso looked back. Then her heart gave a great leap. Behind them wasanother dog-team with two men. Was it possible that after all thehalf-breed was mistaken, or that he had told her a lying tale?

She did not know, she could not tell, she could only hope, and her hopewas fed by her captor's evident anxiety. He whipped the dogs cruelly, and his glances back became more frequent. Helen also looked back andsaw that the sled behind was gaining on them. Was it indeed her loverin pursuit, or were these men who had witnessed the attack on thecabin, and had fired the shots which had compelled the attackers totake flight? Anything now seemed possible, and as the half-breed'sanxiety grew more pronounced, her own excited hopes mounted higher. 

The snow came again, a blinding whirl that blotted out the wholelandscape, then the half-breed gave a sharp order, and the Indian infront breaking trail turned ashore. The half-breed looked back, and thenforward, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. The girl also looked forward. They were approaching a tree-crowned bluff, which was apparently theirgoal. Then suddenly, bewildering in its unexpectedness, came the flashand crack of a rifle from the bushes in shore. 

"Sacree!" cried the half-breed, and the next moment three rifles spoke, and he pitched over in the snow, whilst the man at the gee-pole alsofell. 

The man breaking the trail in front, swerved from the bluff, and thedogs swerved after him, almost upsetting the sledge. Again a rifle, andthe remaining man went down. The dogs, in excitement or fear, stillmoved forward, and Helen strove to free herself, but a moment later thesledge halted abruptly as two of the dogs fell, shot in their traces. She had a momentary vision of two men running towards her from theshore, then the snow came down in a thick veil. Dimly she caught theoutline of one of the men by her sled, and the next moment a voice sheremembered broke on her ears through the clamour of the wind. 

"Thank God, Helen! I am in time. "

And she looked up incredulously to find Gerald Ainley looking down ather. 

CHAPTER XXI

CHIGMOK'S STORY

When Stane set his face to the storm he knew there was a difficult taskbefore him, and he found it even more difficult than he hadanticipated. The wind, bitingly cold, drove the snow before it in analmost solid wall. The wood sheltered him somewhat; but fearful oflosing himself, and so missing what he was seeking, he dared not turnfar into it, and was forced to follow the edge of it, that he might notwander from the lake. Time after time he was compelled to halt in thelee of the deadfalls, or shelter behind a tree with his back to thestorm, whilst he recovered breath. He could see scarcely a yard beforehim, and more than once he was driven to deviate from the straightcourse, and leave the trees in order to assure himself that he had notwandered from the lake side. 

The bitter cold numbed his brain; the driving snow was utterlyconfusing, and before he reached his objective he had only one thingclear in his mind. Blistering though it was, he must keep his face tothe wind, then he could not go wrong, for the storm, sweeping down thelake, came in a direct line from the bluff in the shadow of which thetragedy which he had witnessed, had happened. As he progressed, slowly, utter exhaustion seemed to overtake him. Bending his head to the blasthe swayed like a drunken man. More than once as he stumbled over fallentrees the impulse to sit and rest almost overcame him; but knowing thedanger of such a course he forced himself to refrain. Once as he haltedin the shelter of a giant fir, his back resting against the trunk, hewas conscious of a deadly, delicious languor creeping through hisframe, and knowing it for the beginning of the dreaded snow-sleep whichovertakes men in such circumstances, he lurched forward again, thoughhe had not recovered breath. 

He came to a sudden descent in the trail that he was following. It wasmade by a small stream that in spring flooded down to the lake butwhich now was frozen solid. In the blinding snow-wrack he never evensaw it, and stepping on air, he hurtled down the bank, and rolled in aconfused heap in the deep snow at the bottom. For a full minute he laythere, out of the wind and biting snow-hail, feeling like a man who hasstumbled out of bitter cold to a soft couch in a warm room. A sense ofutter contentment stole upon him. For some moments he lost all his gripon realities; time and circumstances and the object of his quest wereforgotten. Visions, momentary but very vivid, crowded upon him, andamong them, one of a girl whom he had kissed in the face of death. Thatgirl--Yes, there was something. His mind asserted itself again, hispurpose dominated his wavering faculties, and he staggered to his feet. 

"Helen!" he muttered. "Helen!"

He faced the bank of the stream on the other side from that which hadcaused his downfall. Then he paused. There was something--twentyseconds passed before he remembered. His rifle! It was somewhere in thesnow, he must find it, for he might yet have need of it. He gropedabout, and presently recovered it; then after considering for a moment, instead of ascending to the level, he began to walk downstream, sheltered by the high banks. It was not so cold in the hollow, andthough a smother of sand-like particles of snow blew at the level ofhis head, by stooping he was able to escape the worst of it. His numbedfaculties began to assert themselves again. The struggle through thedeep soft snow, out of reach of the wind's bitter breath, sent a glowthrough him. His brain began to work steadily. He could not be far fromthe bluff now, and the stream would lead him to the lake. How much timehe had lost he did not know, and he was in a sweat of fear lest heshould be too late after all. As he struggled on, he did not evenwonder what was the meaning of the attack that he had witnessed; onething only was before his eyes, the vision of the girl he lovedhelpless in the face of unknown dangers. 

The banks of the stream lowered and opened suddenly. The witheringforce of the blast struck him, the snow buffeted him, and for a momenthe stood held in his tracks, then the wind momentarily slackened, anddimly through the driving snow he caught sight of something that loomedshadowlike before him. It was the bluff that he was seeking, and as hemoved towards it, the wind broken, grew less boisterous, though asteady stream of fine hard snow swept down upon him from its height. The snow blanketed everything, and he could see nothing; then he hearda dog yelp and stumbled forward in the direction of the sound. A minutelater, in the shelter of some high rocks, he saw a camp-fire, besidewhich a team of dogs in harness huddled in the snow, anchored there bythe sled turned on its side, and by the fire a man crouched and staredinto the snow-wrack. As he visioned them, Stane slipped the rifle fromthe hollow of his arm, and staggered forward like a drunken man. 

The man by the fire becoming aware of him leaped suddenly to his feet. In a twinkling his rifle was at his shoulder, and through the wildcanorous note of the wind, Stane caught his hail. "Hands up! Youmurderer!"

Something in the voice struck reminiscently on his ears, and this, ashe recognized instantly, was not the hail of a man who had justcommitted a terrible crime. He dropped his rifle and put up his hands. The man changed his rifle swiftly for a pistol, and began to advance. Two yards away he stopped. 

"Stane! by--!"

Then Stane recognized him. It was Dandy Anderton, the mountedpoliceman, and in the relief of the moment he laughed suddenly. 

"You, Dandy?"

"Yes! What in heaven's name is the meaning of it all? Did you seeanything? Hear the firing? There are two dead men out there in thesnow. " He jerked his head towards the lake. "And there was a dog-team, but I lost it in the storm. Do you know anything about it, Stane? Ihope that you had no hand in this killing?"

The questions came tumbling over each other all in one breath, and asthey finished, Stane, still a little breathless, replied:

"No, I had no hand in that killing. I don't understand it at all, butthat sledge, we must find it, for to the best of my belief, MissYardely is on it. "

"Miss Yardely! What on earth----"

"It is a long story. I haven't time to explain. We were attacked andshe was carried off. Come along, Dandy, and help me to find her. "

The policeman shook his head and pointed to the whirling snow. "No use, old man, we couldn't find a mountain in that stuff, and we should bemad to try. We don't know which way to look for her, and we should onlylose ourselves and die in the cold. "

"But, man, I tell you that Helen----"

"Helen is in the hands of the good God for the present, my friend. Idid not know she was with that sledge, and though I had only a glimpseof it, I will swear that the sledge was empty. "

"There were two men ran out after the firing, " cried Stane. "I saw themjust before the snow came. They were making for the sledge. Perhapsthey took Helen----"

"Sit down, Stane, and give me the facts. It's no good thinking of goingout in that smother. A man might as well stand on Mount Robson and jumpfor the moon! Sit down and make me wise on the business, then if thestorm slackens we can get busy. "

Stane looked into the smother in front, and reason asserted itself. Itwas quite true what Anderton said. Nothing whatever could be done forthe present; the storm effectually prevented action. To venture fromthe shelter of the bluff on to the open width of the lake was to belost, and to be lost in such circumstances meant death from cold. Fiercely as burned the desire to be doing on behalf of his beloved, hewas forced to recognize the utter folly of attempting anything for themoment. With a gesture of despair, he swept the snow from a convenientlog, and seated himself heavily upon it. 

The policeman stretched a hand towards a heap of smouldering ashes, where reposed a pan, and pouring some boiling coffee into a tin cup, handed it to Stane. 

"Drink that, Hubert, old man, it'll buck you up. Then you can give methe pegs of this business. "

Stane began to sip the coffee, and between the heat of the fire andthat of the coffee, his blood began to course more freely. All thenumbness passed from his brain and with it passed the sense of despairthat had been expressed in his gesture, and a sudden hope came to him. 

"One thing, " he broke out, "if we can't travel, neither can anybodyelse. "

"Not far--at any rate, " agreed Anderton. "A man might put his back tothe storm, but he would soon be jiggered; or he might take to the deepwoods; but with a dog-team he wouldn't go far or fast, unless there wasa proper trail. "

"That's where they'll make for, as like as not, " said Stane withanother stab of despair. 

"They--who? Tell me, man, and never bother about the woods. There's agood two hundred miles of them hereabouts and till we can begin to lookfor the trail it is no good worrying. Who are these men----"

"I can't say, " answered Stane, "but I'll tell you what I know. "

Vividly and succinctly he narrated the events that had befallen sincethe policeman's departure from Chief George's camp on the trail ofChigmok. Anderton listened carefully. Twice he interrupted. The firsttime was when he heard how the man whom he sought had been at ChiefGeorge's camp after all. 

"I guessed that, " he commented, "after I started on the trail to theBarrens, particularly when I found no signs of any camping place onwhat is the natural road for any one making that way. I swung backyesterday meaning to surprise Chief George, and rake through histepees. "

The second time was when he heard of the white man who had offered thebribe of the guns and blankets for the attack on the cabin, and thekidnapping of the girl. 

"Who in thunder can have done that?" he asked. 

"I don't know, " answered Stane, and explained the idea that hadoccurred to him that it was some one desiring to claim the rewardoffered by Sir James. 

"But why should you be killed?"

"Ask the man who ordered it, " answered Stane with a grim laugh. 

"I will when I come up with him. But tell me the rest, old man. "

Stane continued his narrative, and when he had finished, Anderton spokeagain. "That solitary man with the team whom you saw coming down thelake, must have been me. I turned into the wood a mile or two on theother side of this bluff to camp out of the snow which I saw wascoming. Then it struck me that I should do better on this side, and Iworked towards it. I was just on the other side when the shootingbegan, and I hurried forward, but the snow came and wiped outeverything, though I had an impression of a second dog-team waiting bythe shore as I came round. When I looked for it I couldn't find it; andthen I tumbled on this camp, and as there was nothing else to be doneuntil the snow slackened I unharnessed. "

Stane looked round. "This would be the place where the man, who was tohave paid the kidnappers their price, waited for them. "

"And paid them in lead, no doubt with the idea of covering his owntracks completely. "

"That seems likely, " agreed Stane. 

"But who----" Anderton broke off suddenly and leaped to his feet. "Great Christopher! Look there!" Stane looked swiftly in the directionindicated, and as the veil of snow broke for a moment, caught sight ofa huddled form crawling in the snow. 

"What----" he began. 

"It's a man. I saw him distinctly, " interrupted the policeman, and thenas the snow swept down again he ran from the shelter of the camp. 

A minute and a half later he staggered back, dragging a man with him. He dropped the man by the fire, poured some coffee into a pannikin, andas the new-comer, with a groan, half-raised himself to look round, heheld the coffee towards him. 

"Here, drink this, it'll do you----" he interrupted himself sharply, then in a tone of exultation he cried: "Chigmok!"

"Oui!" answered the man. "I am Chigmok! And thou?"

"I am the man of the Law, " answered Anderton, "who has been at yourheels for weeks. "

"So!" answered the half-breed in native speech, with a hopelessgesture, "It had been better to have died the snow-death, but I shalldie before they hang me, for I am hurt. "

He glanced down at his shoulder as he spoke, and looking closely thetwo white men saw that the frozen snow on his furs was stained. 

"Ah!" said the policeman, "I hadn't noticed that, but we'll have a lookat it. " He looked at Stane, who was eyeing the half-breed with a savagestare, then he said sharply: "Give me a hand, Stane. We can't let thebeggar die unhelped, however he may deserve it. He's a godsend anyway, for he can explain your mystery. Besides it's my duty to get him backto the Post, and they wouldn't welcome him dead. Might think I'dplugged him, you know. "

Together they lifted the man nearer the fire, and examined the injuredshoulder. It had been drilled clean through by a bullet. Andertonnodded with satisfaction. "Nothing there to kill you, Chigmok. We'llbandage you up, and save you for the Law yet?"

They washed and dressed the wound, made the half-breed as comfortableas they could; then as he reposed by the fire, Anderton found the man'spipe, filled it, held a burning stick whilst he lit it, and when it wasdrawing nicely, spoke:

"Now, Chigmok, you owe me something for all this, you know. Just tellus the meaning of the game you were playing. It can't hurt you to makea clean breast of it; because that other affair that you know of isample for the needs of the Law. "

"You want me to tell?" asked the half-breed in English. 

"Yes, we're very curious. My friend here is very anxious to know why hewas attacked, and why he was to die whilst the girl who was with himwas carried off. "

"You not know?" asked the half-breed. 

"Well, we haven't quite got the rights of it, " was the policeman'sguarded answer. 

"Then I tell you. " His dark eyes turned to Stane. "You not know me?"

"No, " answered Stane. "I never saw you in my life before. "

"But I haf seen you. Oui! I steal your canoe when you sleep!"

"Great Scott!" cried Stane. "You----"

"I run from zee poleece, an' I haf nodings but a gun. When I watch yousleep, I tink once I shoot you; but I not know who ees in zee leetletent, an' I tink maybe dey catch me, but I know now eet vas not so. "

"You know who was in the tent?" asked Stane sharply. 

"I fin' dat out zee ver' next morning, when I meet a man who ask forzee white girl. Ah I haf seen dat man b'fore. I see heem shoot zeepaddle from zee girl's hand--. "

Startled, Stane cried out. "You saw him shoot----"

"Oui! I not know why he do eet. But I tink he want zee girl to loseherself dat he may find her. Dat I tink, but I not tell heem dat. Non!Yet I tell heem what I see, an' he ees afraid, an' say he tell zeemounters he haf seen me, eef I say he ees dat man. So I not say eet, but all zee time he ees zee man. Den he pay me to take a writing to zeecamp of zee great man of zee Company, but I not take eet becos I amafraid. "

"Who was this man?" asked Stane grimly, as the half-breed paused. 

"I not know; but he is zee ver' same man dat was to haf paid zee priceof guns an' blankets for zee girl dat vos in zee cabin. "

"And who said I was to die?"

"Oui! He order dat! An' I tink eet ees done, an' I not care, foralready I am to zee death condemned, an' it ees but once dat I can die. Also I tink when zee price ees paid, I veel go North to zee Frozen Seawhere zee mounters come not. But dat man he ees one devil. He fix forme bring zee girl here, where zee price veel be paid; den when I comehe begin to shoot, becos he veel not zee price pay. He keel Canif andLigan, and he would me haf keeled to save zee guns and blankets and zeetea and tabac, dog dat he ees!"

"Perhaps it was not the price he was saving, " said Anderton. "Perhapshe was afraid that the story would be told and that the mounters wouldseek out his trail, Chigmok?"

"By gar! Yees, I never tink of dat, " cried the half-breed as if a lighthad broken on him suddenly. "I tink onlee of zee price dat hee save. "

"What sort of a man was he? What did he look like, Chigmok?"

"He dark an' vhat you call han'some. He haf sometimes one glass to heeseye, an----"

"Ainley, by Heaven!" cried Stane in extreme amazement. 

"I not know hees name, " answered the half-breed, "but I tink he ees ofzee Company. "

Anderton looked doubtfully at Stane who suffered no doubt at all. "Itis Ainley, unquestionably, " said Stane, answering the question in hiseyes. "The description is his, though it is a trifle vague and themonocle----"

"He affects a monocle still then?"

"I have seen it, and it is so. He sported it down at Fort Malsun. "

Anderton nodded, and for a moment looked into the fire, whistlingthoughtfully to himself. Then he looked up. "One thing, Stane, we neednot worry over now, and that is Miss Yardely's welfare. Assuming thatAinley has taken possession of her, no harm is likely to come to her athis hands. Whatever may be behind his pretty scheme, it will notinvolve bodily harm to her. We have that assurance in the position heoccupies and the plan he made for her to be brought here alive. Nodoubt he will be posing as the girl's deliverer. He doesn't know thatChigmok has survived. He doesn't know that I am here to get Chigmok'sstory; and whilst he can hardly have been unaware of your sledgefollowing the trail of Chigmok, it is not the least likely that heassociates it with you. Probably he is under the idea that it formedpart of Chigmok's outfit. No doubt a little way down the lake he willcamp till the storm is over, then make a bee line for FortMalsun--we'll get him as easy as eating toast. "

"And when we've got him?"

"Duty's duty!" answered Anderton with a shrug. "I can't enumerate allthe charges offhand; but there's enough to kill Mr. Ainley's goosetwice over. Lor', what a whirligig life is. I never thought--Hallo!Who's this? Jean Bčnard, or I'm a sinner!"

Jean Bčnard it was, and his face lighted with pleasure as he staggeredinto the camp. 

"I fear for you, m'sieu, " he said to Stane in simple explanation, "therefore I come. Bo'jour, M'sieu Anderton, dis ees a good meeting onzee bad day! But dat--surely dat ees Chigmok? An' zee mees where eesshe?"

Stane waved a hand towards the lake. "Somewhere out there, Jean, andstill to find. "

"But we fin' her, m'sieu. Haf no fear but dat we weel her find, whenzee snow it stop!"

And the ringing confidence in his tone brought new heart to Stane, still beset with fears for Helen. 

CHAPTER XXII

AINLEY'S STORY

As Helen Yardely caught sight of Ainley's face, for a moment she wasdumb with amazement, then she cried: "You? You?"

"Yes, " he answered quickly, "I have been seeking you for weeks, and Ifind you in the nick of time. But there is no time to explain now. There were others with your captors; I saw the sledge following behind. We must get away at once. "

As he spoke he cut the thongs which bound her to the sledge and helpedher to rise. Then he spoke again urgently. "Quick!" he said. "There isdanger. This way--I have a team waiting for you. We must take to thewoods. "

He took her arm, and began to hurry through the blinding snow. Helen, bewildered by the swift turn of events, did not resist, but movedforward with him, and in a couple of minutes found herself standing bya sled-team guarded by a couple of Indians. 

"Get on the sledge, Helen, " said Ainley, brusquely. "There is no timeto waste. We must hurry. "

Still in a whirl of conflicting thoughts, the girl seated herself onthe sledge, Ainley swiftly did what he could for her comfort, and amoment later the dogs received their command. 

"Moosh! Moosh!"

They turned from the storm-ridden lake to the shelter of the greatwoods. The trail was not a good one; but the snow among the trees wasfar from being the hindrance it was in the open; and though theirprogress was slow, on the whole it was steady. Except for forced haltsto unravel the harness when it caught in the bushes, they did not stopfor two hours, but pressed on until they reached an open space in thewoods, which they crossed in a smother of blinding snow. On the otherside of this break they came to a fresh spur of forest, and when theyhad penetrated to the shelter of the trees once more, the firstvoluntary halt was made. Then for the first time since the march hadbegun, Ainley spoke to the girl. 

"Comfortable, Helen?" he asked. 

"As comfortable as possible under the circumstances, " was the reply. 

"I am sorry I can do no better, " replied Ainley. "But we are in dangerstill, and a little hardship is better than the grave risk of life. "

"Oh!" answered Helen. "I do not mind the hardship. "

"That is what I should expect of you, " answered Ainley quickly, "but itis not for long that I ask it of you. In another hour or so, we shallbe safe, I hope, then we will camp until the storm is over. "

"Of whom are you afraid?" asked Helen. 

"Indians! We were forced to shoot three of your captors; and those oftheir friends who were following on behind may feel impelled to try andavenge their deaths. "

"Oh!" said the girl; a note of such evident disappointment in her tone, that Ainley looked at her quickly. 

"Why do you speak like that, Helen? One would think that you werealmost sorry that I had delivered you from the fate awaiting you. "

"Oh, it is not that!" replied Helen quickly. "Though of course I do notknow what the fate was. Do you?"

"I have an idea, " he said, "and I will explain when we camp. Just now Imust have a word with my men. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes;and there will be bacon and biscuit, which if not exactly appetisingwill be sustaining. "

"I shall not mind bacon and biscuit, " answered Helen, and as Ainleywalked away a look of deep thought came on the girl's face. 

Was it true, she asked herself, that he was afraid of the pursuit ofrevengeful Indians? She remembered the sledge which she had seenfollowing behind, a sledge accompanied by only two men, and the evidentanxiety it had occasioned her chief captor, and one thing fixed itselfin her mind with all the force of a conviction, namely that whateverGerald Ainley thought about these men behind, her captors knew nothingwhatever about them; then she remembered the revelations made by thehalf-breed. He had owned that he had attacked the cabin and capturedher for a price, a great price paid by a man who loved her. Was thatman Gerald Ainley? It was an odd coincidence that he should have beenwaiting just where he was, which was quite evidently the place wherethe half-breed had been making for. His words of greeting made it clearthat he had been expecting to meet her, but in that case how did itcome about that he knew she was in the neighbourhood? Was he indeed theman to whom the half-breed was looking for the price? If so, why had heso ruthlessly shot down the men who were his confederates?

Instantly an explanation that fitted the facts occurred to her. He hadshot down her captors in order to conceal his connection with them andwith the attack upon the cabin. She remembered the man whom she hadseen, and her odd fancy that he was a white man, and recalled herlover's conviction that no bodily harm was meant to her, though thesame was not true of himself, and a very deep distrust of Gerald Ainleysurged in her heart; a distrust that was deepened by her recollectionof the policeman's story of the forged bill, and the sheet of foolscapwhich had been in her lover's possession. 

But of this distrust she gave no sign when Ainley approached her, bearing food and coffee. She accepted the situation as if it were themost everyday one in the world; and she listened to the few words thathe had to say, with real interest. 

"We shall resume our march in twenty minutes or so, Helen, but as Isaid, in an hour or so, we shall be beyond pursuit. Then, when we havecamped, you shall tell me the story of your adventures. "

"Yes, " she answered quietly, "and you shall tell me exactly how youcame to find me. "

"That is a long story, " he answered with a slight frown, "but you shallhear it all in good time. It has taken me months to find you, and I hadalmost begun to despair, when a fortunate chance gave me the clue toyour whereabouts. "

"What chance was it?" asked Helen quickly. 

"To answer that, " he answered deliberately, "is to forestall my story. "Then he smiled, "You must be patient a little while longer, as I am, and when you have heard it, I hope you will not deny me my reward?"

"Oh, " she said with a little touch of scorn creeping into her tones. "You have been working for a reward?"

"No, " he replied sharply. "My toil has been a labour of love. You mustknow that, Helen! Though it is quite true that Sir James----"

He broke off, and as he showed no signs of continuing Helen forced himto do so. "You were saying something about my uncle? Did he send youafter me?"

"He made me head of the search-party, because he knew I loved you, andhe hinted that when I had found you I might go to him. You understand, Helen?"

"Yes, " answered the girl enigmatically. "I think I do. "

Looking at her, Ainley saw that there was nothing to be gained bypressing the matter further at that moment; and excusing himself hewent to give orders to his Indians. A short time later they resumedtheir journey, and travelled steadily for something more than an hour;then almost in the dark they pitched camp for the night. A substantialmeal was prepared of which Helen partook in the shelter of a littletent which had been erected; then when she had finished the meal, sheseated herself by the big fire which had been built. 

Ainley also seated himself less than a yard from her; and withoutgiving him a chance of asking for her story, she instantly demandedhis. 

"Now, " she said, as lightly as she could, "you shall tell meeverything. How you searched for me, how you got on my trail at last, and the fate from which you saved me this morning. "

Ainley would have preferred to hear her story first; but he did notdemur to her suggestion, and with a little deprecatory laugh he began. "It is not very easy to talk of one's own doings, but I will do my bestto avoid boastfulness. "

Then, carefully picking his words, he described the anxiety hernon-return to her uncle's camp had given rise to; and the preliminarysearch made by himself and the Indian Joe. As he described his ownfeelings of despair at the finding of the portion of her canoe in thedrift-pile beyond the falls, his voice shook with quite genuineemotion, and Helen moved so as to bring her face a little in shadowwhilst she watched him. In that moment she momentarily forgot thedistrust which her own questioning had awakened in her, and listenedabsorbed whilst he narrated the discovery of the brooch, and the newhope it occasioned, since it afforded evidence that she was in allprobability still alive. Then he broke off sharply. "You were savedfrom the river, somehow, by that fellow Stane, who was up at FortMalsun, were you not?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"I got his description from a half-breed who had met and hailed yougoing up the river in a canoe towards Old Fort Winagog. "

"But we met no half-breed, " said Helen quickly, her distrust awakeningin full force. 

"You met no half-breed?" The surprise in Ainley's face was quitegenuine, as Helen saw, and she realized that whatever was to come, thispart of the man's story was quite true. 

"No, we met no one, and we never reached Fort Winagog, because ourcanoe was stolen whilst we slept. "

"Is that so?" Ainley's face grew dark as he asked the question; then atroubled look came upon it. "The man must have lied to me, " he said, "or have told me only half the truth, but he must have seen you, or howdid he know that the man who was with you was Stane?"

"Perhaps he was the man who stole our canoe, " said Helen. 

"Yes, " answered Ainley, "that will be it. But----" he broke off withoutfinishing. "Anyway, " he continued after a moment, "following hisstatement, I went up to Old Fort Winagog, but found no sign of you, then back by another and a quicker route that I might tell your uncleof the lack of news, and organize a regular search. After that, Istarted to beat the country round about steadily. Rodwell sent news ofyou to all the Indians and trappers in the country, whilst your unclepromised a reward. For weeks I searched, and all in vain, then one dayan Indian girl came with a story of a white man and woman living in acabin on a lake, and though she did not know their names she was ableto tell me that this man and woman were Stane and you. "

"Who was the girl?" asked Helen quickly. 

"It was that Indian girl who was up at Fort Malsun!"

"Miskodeed!" cried Helen. 

"That I believe was her name. She looked on Stane as her lover, and shedid you the honour of being jealous of you!" Ainley laughed as hespoke. "Absurd, of course--But what will you? The primitive, untutoredheart is very simple in its emotions and the man was her paramour!"

"It is a lie!" cried Helen hotly. "He had spoken to her only twice inhis life. "

"He was scarcely likely to own to anything more, to you, " answeredAinley, "and in any case I am giving you the Indian girl's version;that it accords with my own belief is of little moment. What I do knowis that she cared nothing about the reward your uncle offered, and thather sole purpose seemed to be to remove you from Stane's company. "

"And when you heard?" asked Helen prompting him as he fell silent. 

"When I heard, I did not waste time. I made a bee-line for the cabin onthe lake, taking the girl with me. I arrived there last night----"

"How long were you on the way?" interrupted Helen suddenly. 

"Four days. "

"And Miskodeed was with you all the time?"

"Of course!" answered Ainley a trifle uneasily. "She was our guide. "

"I see, " answered Helen quietly. She made no further comment on theIndian girl, but she knew now that Ainley had departed from whatevertruth there was in his narrative, for Miskodeed, on the sure evidenceof her own eyes had been at the Indian encampment when he claimed shehad been with him. She listened quietly whilst Ainley continued:

"As I was saying, I arrived in the neighbourhood of the cabin lastnight, to find you gone----"

"And Mr. Stane?" she asked almost breathlessly. "Did you find him? Didyou see him?"

Ainley shook his head. "No, I did not see him myself, but one of my menturned a body over that was lying in the snow. It was that of a whiteman, who could be no other than Stane!"

Helen flinched at the answer which confirmed what the half-breed hadsaid to her about Stane being dead. She looked away, not wishing Ainleyto see her face at that moment, whilst the hot tears welled in hereyes, and the man, choosing to disregard her manifest sorrow, continuedhis story. "We found an Indian in the snow, who had been wounded in thefight, as he told us, and on pressure he gave me the information thatyou had been carried away by a half-breed of the name of Chigmok, who, as the Indian averred, was making for the lake of the Little Moose, that is the lake where we rescued you. This wounded man also informedus that Chigmok had a camp on the lake, gave us instructions how tofind it; and volunteered the further information that Chigmok wastaking the longest route to the lake, since that was the easier way fora heavily-loaded sledge. There was a shorter way, as he informed us, away which if we travelled hard, would bring us to the lake beforeChigmok himself; and after considering the matter carefully I decidedto take the shorter route, and to await your captor at his own camp, since, as he had no reason for anticipating pursuit, the surprise wouldbe all the more complete. We arrived there in good time, and--well, youknow the rest, Helen. "

"Not quite, " answered the girl in a listless, toneless voice. "You havenot yet told me what this man Chigmok proposed to do with me. "

"Well, the wounded Indian told us that he had fallen violently in lovewith you, and that he proposed to make you his squaw. "

"Ah!"

Ainley interpreted the exclamation in his own way, but looking at thegirl was surprised by a look which had come into her face. Herlistlessness had fallen from her. There was a look of absorption abouther which puzzled him, and he wondered what she was thinking of. He didnot know what her captor had revealed to her, and so never dreamed thetruth, which was that Helen was thinking that for the second time hehad fallen from the truth in his narrative. But again she gave nofurther sign. For a little time she sat there grasping at the hope, thevery little hope it gave her. He had lied twice, she was sure. Whatreason was there for supposing that the other parts of his narrativewere true? He had owned that he had not seen Hubert Stane's body, andthat he had taken the Indian's word. But what if that were a lie, whatif after all there had been no body, what if that, like the otherthings, was a fabrication? It was true that the half-breed had saidStane was dead, but that might be a mistake. A faint hope stirred inher heart, and she determined to question Ainley's two Indians as soonas the opportunity arose. Then a new thought came to her, and sheturned quickly to Ainley. 

"Tell me one thing, " she said, "when you arrived at the cabin theattack was quite over?"

"Quite, " he answered. 

"And you did not take part in the fighting? You fired no shots at theattackers?"

"No, " he answered. "They had gone when we arrived, all except thewounded Indian who gave me the information. "

"Then who was it?" she cried. 

"Who was it? I do not understand what you mean, Helen. "

"Some one fired on the Indians from the wood, and he kept on firing asthe Indians bound me to the sledge, and even after we had begun toflee. "

Ainley rose abruptly to his feet. It was very clear to the girl thatthe information she had given him had astonished him. His mannerbetrayed perturbation as he replied in short, jerky sentences: "Youamaze me! What you say is--most astonishing. Are you sure? You have notdreamed this by any chance?"

"If I have, " answered Helen, "another shared my dream. For when I heardthe shots I thought that Mr. Stane had fired them; it was thehalf-breed who told me that I was mistaken, and that the shots had beenfired by some one in the forest. "

Ainley's perturbation did not subside at this further information. There was in his face a look of agitation that amounted almost toapprehension. "I do not understand it at all, " he said, more to himselfthan to Helen. "It is beyond me. Good Heavens! Is it possible thatStane escaped after all? He----"

"I thought one of your men saw his body?" interrupted Helen, quickly. 

"He certainly saw the body of a white man, or so he avers, and I had noreason to suppose that it could be any one else!"

"Then, " said the girl, "you are not sure?"

"No, not in the sense you mean; but I am morally certain that--but whyworry about Stane? Dead or alive he can be nothing to you. "

The girl turned to him sharply, and there was a flash in her eyes and alook on her face that startled him. 

"Dead or alive, " she said quickly, "he is more to me than you ever canbe!"

"Helen!" there was a note of angry protest in Ainley's voice. "Youcannot think what you are saying. You must have forgotten how I loveyou. "

"No, " answered the girl deliberately. "I have not forgotten. "

"Then you are forgetting what I have endured for you--all the toil andtravail of these weeks of search--the risks I have taken to find you, the risks I took this morning. Stane may have done something heroic insaving you from the river, I don't know, but I do know that, as youtold me months ago, you were a hero-worshipper, and I beg of you not tobe misled by a mere romantic emotion. I have risked my life a score oftimes to serve you. This morning I saved you from something worse thandeath, and surely I deserve a little consideration at your hands. Willyou not think again? Since heroism is your fetish, can you find nothingheroic in my labours, in my service?"

The man was in deadly earnest, pleading for something on which hisheart was set, and whatever dissimulation there had been in hisnarrative, there was none whatever in his pleadings. But Helenremembered how her lover had gone to prison for this man's deed, andher heart was like a flint, her tone as cold as ice as she answeredhim. 

"You do not understand, " she said, "you have not yet heard my story. When you have, whatever I may owe you, you will not press me again. "

"Tell me the story then, " cried Ainley in a voice hoarse with passion. "And for God's sake, be quick about it!"

CHAPTER XXIII

A SURPRISE FOR AINLEY

"I will, " answered Helen coldly, and without further preamble began thenarrative of all that had befallen her from the time she had left heruncle's camp to inspect the beaver colony. Ainley listened for a longtime without interruption. Much of the story he already knew, thoughthe girl was unaware of the fact; much more he had guessed, but somethings were unknown to him, and when she gave the account of Stane'saccident at the deadfall and of the camp she had made there, he brokeout in chagrin: "That explains how it was we never found you. We musthave passed within a very few miles of you. "

"You were once within a quarter of a mile of me. "

"How do you know that?" he cried. 

"Because I saw you and the Indian Joe pitch your camp on the shore ofthe lake. "

"You saw----" he began, and then stopped staring at her withincredulous eyes. 

"Yes! I watched you make your fire, and then I went back to camp, andput out my own fire. "

"Why?" he demanded harshly, though he had already guessed. 

"Because I was afraid you would discover me, " answered the girl calmly. "And I, with a joyful heart, watched you departing in the morning. "

Ainley rose suddenly to his feet. "Helen, " he cried hoarsely, "do youknow what you are saying? You are telling me that you were glad to beleft alone in this god-forsaken wilderness with a man who was adischarged convict? I wonder what our world would think of thatconfession?"

"I do not care what our world, as you call it, would think about myaction. These few months in the wilderness have made me think little ofthose conventions which have such rigid observance in the letter butare outraged in the spirit every day. "

"Our acquaintances would say----" he began, with a note of bittermalice in his voice, but Helen interrupted him. 

"I wonder what our acquaintances would say if they knew everythingabout the crime for which Hubert Stane became a convict?"

As she dealt this blow the girl looked at him with ruthless eyes. Nowshe was defending, not herself alone, but the memory of the man sheloved, and who out of consideration for herself had only declared hislove when he was going out to meet his death. That thought made hermerciless, and as she saw him waver under the weight of the blow andhis face grow white as the snow about them, she continuedunflinchingly. 

"If they knew what I know they might say that I had made a wise choicein remaining with a convict who had suffered for something of which hewas innocent, instead of going with the man who sent another manto----"

"Helen! You are mad! mad!" cried Ainley in a voice so wild that one ofthe Indians, dozing at the other side of the fire, started suddenly tohis feet, and looked around him as if for enemies. Ainley saw him andchecked the other wild words which sprang to his lips, and after amoment the Indian sank down on his haunches and dropped his chin on hisbreast again. 

"No, " answered Helen calmly. "I am not mad, I am telling the truth, asyou gave me evidence just now. You did not let me finish my sentence. You knew what I was going to say. How did you know it? You could nothave guessed it if the facts had not been within your knowledge. " Shebroke off and was silent for a moment whilst Ainley stared at her withwild eyes. "I may be in your debt for what happened this morning. I donot know, for I do not, cannot trust you; but I will never forgive youfor what the man I loved suffered. Never!"

"You believe some lying tale of Stane's?" said Ainley, in a sneeringattempt to cover up his own discomfiture. 

"I believe what he told me; I would have believed it on his word alone, but fortunately the matter does not depend on that word only. There isevidence, and I know where that evidence is, and I will tell you what Iam going to do. When we get to Fort Malsun, I shall get Mr. Rodwell toequip an expedition, and I shall recover that evidence and publish itto the world, in order to clear the memory of the man whom you have sodeeply wronged. "

"There will be no need for that, fortunately, Miss Yardely!" said avoice behind her. 

The girl jumped to her feet in surprise. And Ainley took a quick stepforward as a man emerged from the shadow of the trees into the circleof the firelight. It was the mounted policeman, Dandy Anderton, andbehind him came another man at whom Helen stared for a momentincredulously, then with a great cry of joy ran to meet him. 

"Hubert! Hubert!"

"Yes!" he answered, slipping an arm about her. 

"But I thought--I thought----"

"I was afraid you might think so, " he replied in answer to her unspokenthought. "But that could not be helped. I followed after you as fast asI could, and I was at your heels when your captors were shot down onthe lake and the snow came on. "

"Oh, how glad I am that you are alive! That you have found me. "

She rested against him well-content, and Stane's arm about hertightened its grip; then they came back to the little world about them, at the sound of the policeman's voice. 

"Didn't know me, Ainley? I dare say not. I'm not quite the tailor'smannikin that I was in the old days at the 'Varsity. Got a man's jobnow, you see. And that reminds me, I'm here on duty. I happened to beup the Little Moose when that shooting took place this morning. There'sa couple of dead Indians up there, and as I guess you had something todo with their sudden deaths I shall have to call on you for anexplanation you know. "

Ainley looked at the policeman without fear, and then for a moment hiseyes turned and rested on Helen and Stane standing together in theshadow of a great fir-tree. It must have been a moment of exceedingbitterness to him, but beyond a short, abrupt laugh he gave no sign ofhis feelings. He turned again to the policeman. Apparently he wasperfectly cool and self-possessed. He waved a hand towards the fire. 

"May as well make ourselves comfortable. It's rather a long story Ihave to tell. Where are your dogs?"

"Back in the wood--anchored. I'll slip back and fetch them. "

"No, " said Stane, "I will go back for them. "

He turned, and Helen turned with him. 

"You don't mind, " she whispered. 

"Mind!"

She walked by his side, a hand on his arm. Once when they were well inthe shadows of the wood they stopped, and with his arm about her hekissed her. 

"My dear!" he whispered, "my dear. "

Helen said nothing immediately, but gave a little sobbing laugh ofgladness. Then after a moment she asked, "How did you escape? How didyou find me?"

"It is too long a story to tell you the whole of it just now. But rightin the nick of time, when I was expecting to die, the owner of ourcabin, Jean Bčnard came back. He saved my life; but as he knew nothingabout you, the attackers got away with you, but as soon as he heard mystory he got ready to pursue, and having found out that your kidnapperswere making for the Little Moose we took a short cut and waited foryou. We were at your heels when the rifles fired from the shore----"

"Then you _were_ with that second sledge?"

"Yes, I and Jean Bčnard!"

"I saw you and I wondered, " cried Helen. "But the half-breed had toldme you were dead. "

"We lost you in the snow, " said Stane, continuing his explanation, "butfound Anderton, and though the snow was as bad as ever, after a time westarted to search for your trail. Jean Bčnard found it deep in the woodwhere we were searching, knowing the lake was impossible for any one totravel in the storm, and after he had made the discovery, Anderton andI started to track you. "

"And where is Jean Bčnard?" asked Helen quickly. "I want to thank himfor saving you, for bringing joy back to me when I thought that it wasdead for ever. "

"He is following us, he will be here, presently. "

"Then I shall see him?"

"I hope so. But we must hurry on, dear. The dogs----"

"Bother the dogs--. "

"But I want to hear Gerald Ainley's explanation. It is important that Ishould. "

"I have already heard it, " said Helen quickly. "It is full of lies. "

"You think so?"

"I know it. "

"All the more reason that I should hear it with Anderton. There is muchmore behind all this than you know, Helen. "

"Perhaps I guess something of what lies behind. "

"I do not think you can. It is an extraordinary story, and there willbe a _dénouement_ presently that will surprise Ainley. Come!"

They moved forward together, found the dogs, and having righted thesledge by which they had been anchored, they returned to the camp. Ainley, pipe in hand, apparently quite cool, was talking. He gave oneglance at the couple as they re-entered the circle of light, watchedStane for a moment as he stooped to unharness the dogs, and thencontinued the story he had been telling glibly and evenly. 

"Having got the news, I made straight for the cabin, and had theill-luck to arrive there half an hour too late. One of the men found adead man, who, from the description, I mistook for Stane there, and wealso found a wounded Indian, who, with a little persuasion, told uswhat he knew, which was that a half-breed, of the name of Chigmok, inflamed with love for Miss Yardely, had carried her off, designing tomake her his squaw. I understand this Chigmok is what the Indians calla bad man--but perhaps you know him?"

He broke off and looked directly at Anderton as he spoke, and waitedfor a reply. The mounted policeman nodded, and as casually as he couldreplied: "Yes, I have met him. He is--no good. "

As the policeman replied, Helen, who was watching Ainley's face, saw asubtle change come over it. For one moment it lost its assurance and aflicker of doubt came in the eyes. The girl divined that he hadsuddenly grown uncertain of his ground, and to her it was noticeablethat after Anderton's reply Ainley's glibness left him, and that hespoke hesitatingly, haltingly, with frequent pauses, like a manuncertain of his words. 

"Then, by all accounts, you have met a regular rogue, Anderton! But toresume, the Indian told us that Chigmok had carried off Miss Yardely. Under pressure he told also the place for which the half-breed wasmaking, a desolate district, little travelled--the Lake of the LittleMoose. Know it?"

"Yes, I was there this morning; Stane and I have just come from there. "

Again the flicker of doubt came in Ainley's eyes, and in the glow ofthe firelight, Helen saw a look of apprehension come on his face. Itwas there for but a moment, then it was gone, but in that moment thegirl had seen deeply into Ainley's heart, and knew that fear wasrapidly mounting there. 

"Ah! you also followed Chigmok's trail, I suppose. But I was therefirst. I followed a shorter route and I was at his camp waiting for himwhen he showed up. I saw Miss Yardely on the sledge, and as for themoment we were three against three, I felt that it was not an occasionwhen chances should be taken, so we fired from the bushes on the threekidnappers and shot them down. Then as there was another sledge comingon behind, I removed Miss Yardely to my own sledge, and to escapefurther trouble we pushed the dogs hard till we got here. .. . And that'sabout all, I think. "

He fell silent for a moment, and sat there watching the two white menand the white girl who had heard the conclusion of his narrative. Theyremained quite still, and not one of the three spoke. Ainley evidentlyfound the silence too much for his nerves, for after a little time hadpassed in profound silence, he flashed out irritably:

"Well, what do you think of my story?"

"It is a very interesting story, " said Anderton at last. 

A quick look of relief came into Ainley's face. "You think I wasjustified in shooting down those three kidnappers then?"

"On the face of things--yes! If your story is the correct one there isnot the slightest doubt that you followed the right course. "

"You don't doubt its correctness?" flashed Ainley. 

"I have not said so, " answered the policeman gravely, "but so far, asyou will see, I have only your word for it. "

"The two men who are with me can corroborate, " replied Ainley. 

"That will be helpful, of course, " said Anderton. "But I am not tryingthe case, Ainley, I am only making the necessary inquiries that I maymake my report at the Post. And I had better warn you that you may havea little trouble about this matter. Things in the North here are notlike they were a few years back, when any wandering white man felthimself justified in potting any Indian whose presence he consideredinimical. The administration of the Territories is very tender towardsthe natives under its charge, and watchful of their interests. It isbound to be. Since it expects the red man to accept its laws, it can dono less than compel whites to honour them. "

"Oh I know all that, " said Ainley, a trifle contemptuously. "But youwon't claim that the circumstances of this affair are anything butextraordinary. "

"No, " agreed the policeman, "I think they are very extraordinary. "

Something significant in his tones caused Ainley to look at himquestioningly. The policeman, whose face was like a mask, was staringinto the fire, and did not catch the look. Ainley made as if to speak, then changed his mind and remained silent. After a little time Andertonspoke again. 

"Seems a long time since we three men foregathered at Oxford. "

"Yes, " agreed Ainley, apparently relieved at the change of subject. "Agood bit of water has gone down the Isis since then. "

"And all the circumstances considered it is rather a coincidence thatwe three should meet like this in the wilderness. "

"It certainly is dramatic, " admitted Ainley. "Quite a Drury Lanedrama. "

"More so than you know, Ainley, " answered Anderton quickly. "Stane, letAinley have a look at that piece of paper you carry about with you. "

A moment later Stane had opened the oilskin packet, and was unfoldingthe sheet of note-paper. Ainley watched him in amazement, and then asStane held the paper towards him, and he bent over it, a look ofconsternation came on his face, and a quick oath broke from his lips. "God in heaven!"

"You had better put that paper in safety, again, Stane, " said thepoliceman quickly. "Ainley recognized it first glance. "

"It's a lie, " cried Ainley. "I've never seen the thing in my lifebefore!"

"Your tongue lies better than your face, Ainley. Just now your facetold the truth. You have seen that paper before. You saw it at Oxfordwhen you prepared yourself for the forgery that sent Stane to prison. You----"

"I'll not stand it!" cried Ainley jumping to his feet. "You arecharging me with a crime of which a judge and jury found Stane guilty. It is insufferable. You can't expect any man to sit still. "

"Where did you find that paper, Stane?" interrupted the policemanbrusquely. 

"In a copy of Jowett's Plato which Ainley had borrowed from me, andwhich he returned to my scout after I was arrested. "

"It's a barefaced lie! A plot!" cried Ainley. "I'm surprised at you, Anderton--a representative of the law too--lending yourself to such anabsurd charge. You ought to know better. "

"I know more than you think, Ainley. You remember Jarlock who was inour set--?"

"Jarlock!" The name broke from Ainley in a tone of consternation. 

"Yes, Jarlock! A good fellow, Jarlock. A friend who could forgive afriend his faults, who indeed could on occasion overlook a crime whenhe thought it was the crime of a hard-pressed man. "

"What in thunder are you gassing about?" cried Ainley blusteringly. 

"About Jarlock and a certain promissory note which he paid, a notewhich bore your name and his. Your signature was quite genuine. Jarlock's--well, Jarlock denied it, and you owned that you----"

"He told?" said Ainley. "The cur told?"

"Yes, he told me in confidence, after he had heard of Stane's denial ofthe charge for which he was imprisoned. You see he believed in Stane, as I did myself----"

"And you would make me the scapegoat for Stane's crime. " Ainley laughedharshly. "I will see you hung first, " he cried. "I----"

He broke off abruptly as a sound of yelping dogs sounded from the wood, and stared into the darkness. Anderton rose from his seat. 

"I expect that will be Jean Bčnard, " he said quietly. 

"Jean Bčnard? Who is Jean Bčnard?" cried Ainley. 

"He is the man who Stane and I left to bring Chigmok along. "

"Chigmok!"

"Yes, you see, Ainley, Chigmok was not dead as you meant him to be. Hewas only winged, and he was able to tell his story which was a muchmore interesting story than yours, and as I beg leave to think, a muchmore truthful one. "

Ainley did not reply. He stood staring into the darkness with wildeyes. The glow of the fire revealed a terrible look on his face--thelook of a man who in a single moment has seen his life go suddenly topieces. He stood there dumb, his face working painfully, and then, asthe dog-team broke into the circle of the firelight, he fell back intohis seat by the fire in utter collapse, his face hidden in his hands. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE TRAIL TO PARADISE

When Ainley lifted a white, tortured face, it was to find the man whomhe had used as a tool, and whom, having used, he had tried to kill, seated by the fire, staring at him with his evil eyes full of hate. Theothers also sat watching him, all except Helen who had withdrawn to theshadow of the wood, and was walking restlessly to and fro, unable towitness further the downfall of a man whom she had known so well. For amoment there was silence, then Anderton spoke. 

"Would you like to hear Chigmok's story, Ainley?"

"There is no need that I should, " answered Ainley with a bitter, hopeless laugh. "I can guess it fairly well. "

The mounted policeman was silent for a little time, then he remarked:"The implications of his story are rather serious for you, Ainley. "

"Oh, I know it, don't I?"

"Then you admit----"

"I admit nothing! I reserve my defence--that's the proper legal thingto do, isn't it?"

"It is the wise thing, anyway, " said Anderton. 

"The wise thing, " again the bitter mirthless laugh sounded. "When did Iever do the wise thing? I suppose I may consider myself under arrest. "

"Detained on suspicion, " admitted the policeman. "I think I musttrouble you for your pistol and hunting-knife. "

Once more Ainley laughed his bitter laugh, and unbuckling his beltthrew it to the policeman. "It isn't often you arrest an old chum, " hesaid. 

"No!" agreed Anderton, "thank heaven! But you understand, Ainley, I'veno option. If you were my own brother it would be the same. The oath ofservice is a very exacting one--'without fear or favour or affection ofor toward any person. So help me God!' A man can't----"

"Oh, you needn't apologize, Anderton, I recognize the situation wellenough. Don't mind if I lapse into silence do you? There are someletters I want to write. "

He unbuttoned his furs and taking out a pocket-book and pencil began towrite. Jean Bčnard, having fed his dogs, began to prepare a meal forhimself. Anderton sat by the fire, staring into the flames, reflectingon the irony of fate that had selected him of all men in the MountedService to be the one to arrest his whilom fellow-student. Stane hadturned away and joined Helen, who still paced to and fro in theshadows. Her face, as her lover saw, was full of trouble. 

"Oh!" she whispered. "It is unbearable to watch a man one has known goall to pieces!"

"It is certainly very sad, " agreed Stane, out of whose heart all hatredsuddenly vanished. "I wish that things were not as they are. "

"Let us try to forget, " said Helen with a quick glance towards thefire. "Tell me what happened when you went out of the cabin lastnight. "

"Well, " answered her lover falling into step by her side, "when I wentout, I thought I was certainly going to my death. "

"Ah, I knew that was in your mind!. .. But how did you escape?"

"It was a narrow thing. An Indian grappled me, and another man washurrying towards me with an ax. I could not get away, and a thirdperson appeared suddenly with a knife. I thought the knife was meantfor me, but it was not. It was meant for my antagonist, and he wentdown and just after--my--my--saviour was killed by the second Indian, who also struck at me, knocking me senseless. "

"Who was the person with the knife? Someone with Jean Bčnard?"

"No, " answered Stane slowly, "it was the Indian girl, Miskodeed. "

"Miskodeed!" cried Helen in utter surprise. 

"Yes! I did not know it at the time, but we found her afterwards, JeanBčnard and I. It was a dreadful discovery. Jean had come back to hiscabin, hoping to marry her, and she had died for me!"

"Oh, " sobbed Helen in a sudden accession of grief. "I would have doneas much!"

"I know, " answered Stane quietly. 

"And last night when you were in the wood together, and I heard yourvoices, I was jealous of that girl; last night and at other times. "

"But, " said the man, a note of wonder in his voice, "there was no need, Helen. You must know that?"

"Oh yes, I know it now. But she was very beautiful and Gerald Ainleyhad suggested that you--that you----. And I am sure that she loved you. But not more than I, though she died for you!"

"I am very sure of that, " answered Stane, earnestly, putting his armabout her and trying to comfort her. 

Helen sobbed convulsively. "I shall always be grateful to her, though Iwas jealous of her. She saved you--for me--and she was only an Indiangirl. "

"She had a heart of gold, " said Stane. "She came to warn me and thenstayed to do what she did!" Both were silent for a long time, the girlthinking of Miskodeed in her flashing beauty, the other of Jean, bentover the cold face of his dead love, and then Helen spoke again. 

"But tell me! The attack on the cabin, was that man who capturedme--that man Chigmok--was he the inspirer of that?"

"I am afraid not!"

"Then it was Gerald Ainley who was to pay the price for me that thehalf-breed told me of, and that is why he collapsed so utterly whenChigmok came along just now?"

"Yes, " answered Stane, simply. 

"But why did he shoot down Chigmok's party?"

"Well, I think it was to get rid of witnesses who might rise up againsthim. You must remember that he would be under the impression that I wasdead--killed in the attack, and that was a crime that might some dayhave come to light if those men had lived. The pretended rescue was asufficient excuse for getting rid of the men who knew the instigator, particularly of the half-breed. "

"Yes, " said Helen thoughtfully. "An idea of that sort had occurred tome from something that Chigmok had said. But how dreadful it is tothink that a man can so conspire to--to----"

She broke off without completing her words, and Stane nodded. 

"There was always a crooked strain in Ainley. But it will go hard withhim now, for the half-breed will be merciless. He is the man Andertonwas after when he came to the cabin, and his life is forfeit on anothercount. He will not spare the man who bribed him to fresh crime, andthen dealt treacherously with him. "

He paused in his walk and looked back towards the fire where Ainley satwriting, with Chigmok glowering at him across the fire, whilst Andertonsat staring abstractedly into the glowing logs. Then a stealthymovement of the half-breed's arrested his attention. The man had thrusthis hand into his furs, and as it was withdrawn Stane caught sight ofsomething that gleamed in the firelight. In a flash he saw what wasabout to happen, and shouted a hurried warning. 

"Look out, Ainley!"

In the same second, the half-breed, standing swiftly upright, launchedhimself across the fire at Ainley, knife in hand. The white man who hadlooked up at Stane's sudden warning was bowled over in the snow withthe half-breed on the top of him. The knife was lifted, but neverstruck, for in that second Anderton also had leaped, and gripping thehalf-breed's wrist he twisted the knife from his grasp, and flinging itaway, dragged the attacker from his victim. By the time Stane hadreached the scene, Ainley was gathering up some scattered papers, apparently none the worse for the encounter, whilst Anderton wasadmonishing the half-breed. 

"You're a nice lot, Chigmok. Winged as you are, I thought you werequite safe. Now you force me to tie you up, savvy?"

He promptly proceeded to do so, whilst Ainley seated himself anew andlooked up at Stane. "Thank you, Stane! The warning was more than Ideserved from you!" Then he laughed bitterly. "The poor devil isn't tobe blamed. I have merited what he meant to do, and you know it mighthave been the better way--for me. "

Stane looked at him not knowing what to reply. There was somethingabout Ainley that moved him to sudden pity. He looked like a man whohad reached the end of hope and life, and his words were those of a manviewing his own end as a matter of no moment. "I'm sorry, Ainley!" saidStane awkwardly. 

"So am I! But what's the use? There's no going back in life; a man canonly go forward or----"

"Or what?" asked Stane. 

"Or go out!" answered the other grimly. 

"You are thinking of----"

"Better for you not to know, Stane. I'm going to do the straight thingfor once in my life, as you will discover presently. Don't you worryabout me. I am plumb at the end of things and I know it. But don'tcommunicate any suspicions you may happen to have to Anderton. He hasset up that precious duty of his as a fetish, worships it, as youheard. Think of Dandy Anderton of the old days on his knees at theshrine of duty!" He gave a little laugh, and then continued, "But Idon't want to be offered on his altar, and I won't be. You can bank onthat!" He broke off and looked towards Helen, hovering on the edge ofthe shadows. "If you've any sense, Stane, you'll go and persuade Helento lie down and rest, she must be worn out by now!"

Stane nodded and turned away, and after a little more walking to andfro, Helen sought the tent, whilst Stane, after a word or two withAnderton and Jean Bčnard, rolled himself in his sleeping furs, thoughwith little hope of sleep. He lay awake some time and frequently openedhis eyes to see Ainley still bent over his pocket-book, but presentlydrowsiness came over him. The last time his eyes alighted on Ainley thelatter had ceased to write and was sitting staring into the fire withsombre eyes. Then sleep overtook him completely. 

He awoke in the grey dawn with Anderton's voice in his ears, and with apowdery snow driving into his eyes. 

"What----"

"Ainley's gone. I left one of the Indians to watch--not that I thoughtthere was any very real need--but the beggar slept, and Ainleyevidently took the opportunity to bolt. "

"Has he taken dogs?" asked Stane quickly. 

"No, nor anything else that I can see. He has even left his pocket-bookbehind with some pages bent over and addressed to you. Here it is! Outof the wood it must be snowing like the very devil, and he can't gofar. I'm going after him with Jean Bčnard, and I want you to look afterChigmok and these Indians of Ainley's. "

"All right, Anderton! But you won't catch Ainley, you know. "

"Why not?"

"Because, " was the reply given with quiet significance, "I am afraidthat Ainley has gone very far indeed. "

A light of comprehension came into the policeman's eyes, and hewhistled thoughtfully. 

"You think----" he began and stopped. 

"I am quite sure that Ainley has started on the longest trail of all. Why didn't he take dogs? How long can he last in this wildernesswithout? And as you say outside the wood it must be snowingheavily--which way has he gone?"

"His tracks are on the backward trail----"

"To the open country--and in a blizzard. Anderton, old man, let him go. You must guess what he is about----"

"Maybe I do, " answered Anderton quietly. 

"And you'll only be wasting your strength for nothing. "

"I hope to God you're right!" broke out the policeman vehemently. "Butall the same I've got to follow him--Duty's duty--but you don't supposeI'm keen on taking an old pal to be hanged at Regina. I'm glad Ainleyhad the sense and grit to take the long trail on his own. But I'm boundto try and stop him; though I thank heaven that he has an hour's start. Now I must go. Keep your eye on Chigmok, he stands for my honour andcredit much more than Ainley, because of his original crime. So long!"

He turned away and disappeared into the forest on the backward trailwith Jean Bčnard, and half an hour afterwards Helen emerged from hertent to find him bent over Ainley's pocket-book with a troubled look inhis eyes. 

"What is it?" she asked looking round. "Where is Mr. Ainley and whereare----"

"Ainley went away in the night. The others have gone after him. Theywill not catch him--at least I pray not. "

"You think he will get away?"

"He has taken a trail where they are not likely to follow. "

"Oh!" cried Helen with a sob. "You mean that he--that he----?"

"Yes! He hinted his intention to me last night----"

"And you did not try to stop him?" she cried almost reproachfully. 

"No! Why should I? If you will think, Helen, you will find many reasonswhy this was the only thing for Ainley. He has left a long note in hispocket-book and a confession which clears me of that affair at Oxford. There is a note also for you--perhaps you would like to take the bookand read the note to me as well. "

He handed her the pocket-book and watched her as she returned to thelittle tent, then began to busy himself with preparations forbreakfast. Half an hour later Helen emerged again. Her eyes were redwith weeping. 

"I have torn my note out, " she said, "there it is. " She held a crumpledball of paper in her hand. "It is the saddest thing I ever read. Hetells me that he was responsible for my going adrift, that hedeliberately broke my paddle in order that he might find me and pose asa hero, because he wanted me to marry him and knew that I worshippedheroism. He says that he had made what reparation was possible to youand that you will be able to clear your name. He prays for ourhappiness, and--and--he hints at what he was about to do, because hefinishes with the old cry of the gladiators--'Hail Cćsar, we who areabout to die, salute thee!' Oh! It is so sad!. .. No eyes but mine shallever read it--and I--shall never read it again. "

She moved her hand slightly and the crumpled ball rolled into the blazeof the fire. She watched the flickering flame leap up, and die down, then she turned to her lover with streaming eyes. 

"You were right to let him go, my dear! I--I pray God they will notfind him. "

"I also!" said Stane. 

. .. They waited an hour, two hours, saying little, neither trying tohide from the other the anxiety each felt, and then through the mist ofsnow between the trees came Anderton and Jean Bčnard. Stane flashed aquestion at the policeman, who shook his head. 

"Thank God!" said Stane, whilst Jean Bčnard looked at Helen. 

"Zee deaths een zee snow, eet ees nodings! I know. I haf seen a man dieso. Eet ees as gentle as a woman's hand. "

And as he finished speaking Helen turned and went to the little tent topray for the repose of the man who had sinned, but had made the lastcomplete reparation. 

 * * * * *

Two days later, when the storm had blown itself out, all of them tookthe trail to Fort Malsun, and at the end of the first day reached asmall river that was unknown to Stane. 

"Where does this go to?" he asked over the camp fire at night, pointingto the frozen waterway. 

"It makes a big bend and falls into the river above Fort Malsun, " saidAnderton. 

"And the other way? Where does it come from?"

"Don't know!" answered Anderton. "Never travelled it!"

"But I haf, " said Jean Bčnard. "I haf been up eet fiftee miles. Twodays' trail from here dere ees an Engleesh Mission, where a marriedpriest preach zee Gospel to zee Indians. He ees vaire good man, wholaugh like an angel!"

A musing look came on Stane's face, and he sat for some time inthought, then when the opportunity came he walked with Helen on theedge of the wood, conversing earnestly. A burst of light laughterreached the men by the camp fire and Jean Bčnard looked round. 

"What ees ze saying of your countrymen, p'liceman? 'Youth eet veel beserved!' It veel snatch eet's happiness from zee jaws of death, eetself. "

"Yes! And these two deserve the happiness they will get!"

When Stane and Helen returned to the fire, the former, whilst Andertonwas busy elsewhere, spent some time in conversation with Jean Bčnard, who, after a few moments, cried enthusiastically:

"By gar! Dat ees a great plan, m'sieu! Zee dogs an' zee stores I wouldgiv' dem you eef I vos not so poor a mans! But you can buy dem--widpleasure!"

"Very well! But not a word to Anderton till morning. "

"Right, m'sieu. I understand. You an' your mees you giv' zee p'licemansone beeg surprise! Eees not dat so?"

"That is it, " laughed Stane. 

And Anderton's surprise was complete. Whilst it was yet dark and thestars were twinkling frostily, the three dog-teams were harnessed onthe river trail. 

Then the policeman made the discovery that Jean Bčnard's team washeaded upstream. 

"Hallo, Jean, " he cried, "are you going to leave us?"

"Not I, M'sieu Anderton, " said the trapper with a grin. "I go wid youto Fort Malsun to help you look after Chigmok an' zee odders. But I zeeteam sold to M'sieu Stane, an' he goes to zee Engleesh Mission. "

"To the English Mission!" Then a light broke on the policeman, and heturned to where Stane and Helen stood together, with laughter in theireyes. "I could shake you--shake you both, " he said. "It is a prettygame to cheat me out of the job of best man. But, Great Christopher!it's the tip-top thing to do, to marry before you go out of thewilderness. "

"That missionary, " laughed Stane, "is a Godsend. It would be folly notto use the opportunity he represents. "

"So I should think if I were in your shoes, " laughed Anderton, joiningin the laughter. 

"And Jean says he laughs like an angel, " cried Helen gaily. "I want tosee him, naturally. I have never seen an angel laugh!"

"But I have! And so has Stane, " replied the policeman. "How soon do youtake the trail to Paradise? We'll wait and see you start!"

"We're ready now, " said Stane. 

"Then it's time you were off!"

Hands were shaken, good-byes said, then Stane stepped ahead of thedogs, whilst Helen took her place at the gee-pole. 

"Moosh! Moosh!" cried Jean to the dogs. 

Then amid cries of well-wishes they started off on their trail to theEnglish Mission, and overhead the lights of the Aurora, flamingsuddenly, lit the trail with splendour. 

THE END