With his compass Jamie sighted from the tree to the rock, and to his satisfaction the rock, lying due south, fell within his line of sight, but at the extreme easterly end of its northerly face instead of at the centre, the point from which he had run his original line. He now paced the distance, which proved to be a little farther than twenty of Jamie's longest strides, which he accounted for again by reasoning that a man could take longer steps than he could stretch with his short legs.

Then for the first time Jamie observed two stones, one on top of the other, at the foot of the rock and at the very place to which his compass had directed him. He lifted the stones and an examination proved that they had not long since been placed in the position in which he found them. Both had marks of earth upon them on the lower side, but the stone which was below rested upon the carpet of caribou moss which covered the ground and prevented it from coming in contact with the earth. It could not, therefore, have been stained with soil in the place where Jamie now found it.

"They was put there as a pilot mark! They shows the true mark of the place to pace from," he soliloquized, replacing them in the position in which he had found them. "I'll take un as a pilot, whatever, and see how she comes out on the next track."

He returned to the little hackmatack tree and again consulted the paper.

"Forty paces west to a round rock," he read, observing, "that won't be so hard now as findin' the hackmatack tree. 'Twill be easier to see, whatever."

Methodically he gathered some stones and erected a small pedestal upon which to rest his compass while he ran his westerly line. Loose stones of proper size were hard to find. The smaller ones were frozen fast to the ground, and the larger ones were too heavy for him to move. But presently he collected a sufficient number of small stones to form a pedestal a foot and a half high.

Upon the top of this he levelled his compass, and turned it until the needle, swinging freely, rested upon the north point on the dial. Then, as before, he placed a match upon the face of the compass to form a line from the "E" to the "W" on the dial. Crouching down upon the ground Jamie sighted, as before, to a distant tree, but as he did so be became suddenly aware that the light was fading. He had been much longer than he had realized, consuming a great deal of time in examining the signs around the big rock and in taking his distances from the rock.

"This line is sure right the first time," he said. "'Twill not take me much longer, and I finds the round rock now. If I finds un I'll be sure I'm goin' the right way, and I'll be right handy to the cache."

Thirty-nine of Jamie's paces brought him to the tree upon which he had taken sight, and looking a little way beyond he saw, to his great joy, a round rock.

Jamie was trembling with excitement as he ran eagerly to the rock. This was the second direction laid down upon the paper! There could be no doubt that he was right! Everything answered the description! He would surely find the cache now! What a surprise it would be to Doctor Joe and the boys if he came walking into camp triumphantly bearing Lem Horn's silver fox skin.

"Sixty paces south," he next read from his directions.

He placed his compass upon the top of the round rock, which rose perhaps three feet above the ground, and repeated his former method, again sighting to a convenient tree. Twilight was perceptibly thickening. At this season darkness falls early in Labrador, and now, because of a heavily clouded sky, it was following twilight quickly.

"I'll keep at un till I finds the cache. I'll find un before I goes back to camp whatever," he determined. "'Twill be easy enough gettin' to camp even if 'tis dark before I gets there. The brook's handy by, and I'll just go to un and follow un down to camp. I hope they'll not be worryin' about me, but if they does 'twill not be for long. I'll soon be there now."

The distance from the round rock to the tree upon which he had sighted proved to be but thirty of his short paces. Here he was compelled to pile stones again upon which to build a resting-place for his compass before taking another sight. Small stones such as he could lift were not easily found, and when at length he was prepared to take the sight the gloom had grown so thick that he had difficulty in locating a tree that he judged was sufficiently far away to cover the remaining distance. Thirty more paces, however, brought him to the tree, and to his unbounded joy a lone white birch stood just beyond.

Within three paces of the birch the mysterious cache was hidden. Here, however, the directions failed to be sufficiently explicit. Either through oversight or purposely the bearings from the birch were omitted.

Jamie paced first to one tree and then to another; any of several trees might be the correct one. They were all thickly branched spruce trees capable of concealing the coveted cache. Jamie was puzzled, and every moment it was growing darker. He looked up into the branches of one and then another, hoping to see a bag suspended from a limb, but if a bag were there it blended so completely with the foliage that even its outlines were not revealed.

"I'll have to climb un all," said Jamie finally, "and I'll have to be spry about un too or 'twill be fair dark before I gets to climb the last of un."

For his first effort he chose a tree three paces beyond the birch and in a line with the rock. He had no difficulty in shinning up the trunk until he reached a lower limb, and then he quite easily drew himself up.

Climbing through the thick screen of branches he looked eagerly for the coveted hidden mystery, not stopping until he was well into the tree top and had made quite certain that no cache was hidden there. Then, as he looked up toward the sky, he felt a snowflake on his face.

"Snowin'!" he exclaimed. "I'll have to be hurryin' now. If it snows hard Doctor Joe sure will be gettin' worried about me."

At that moment Jamie heard the breaking of a twig. He paused and listened. Presently he heard footsteps, and a moment later a man's voice. Through the gathering darkness appeared the figures of two men, and even at that distance Jamie knew they were not Bay folk. They travelled less silently, and the tread of heavy boots is quite unlike that of moccasined feet.

Jamie crouched close to the tree trunk. He scarcely breathed. The approaching figures came directly toward the white birch.

"It's lucky we saw them fellers first," said a gruff voice. "They'd sure suspicioned somethin' if they'd got a glim on us. They never seen us comin' over, and they'll never find our boat where we hid her."

"If they found that there writin' you went and left in the tin can you were tellin' about, they've like as not follered the directions you give and found the swag," growled the other. "That won't be very lucky for us."

"They'd never find her," assured the first speaker. "They'd have to find the rock first, and she's a good two mile from shore. They'd never find her in a dog's age. Here we be. Here's the white birch."

"Well, where's the tree you went and hid the stuff in?"

"Here she is." The man indicated a tree next to that in which Jamie was perched. "Here, take my leg and gimme a boost. I'll go up and get it."

Jamie scarcely dared breathe. He could see one of the men make a stirrup of his hands, and the other man step into it and swing into the tree. Up he climbed to a point directly opposite Jamie, and so near Jamie could hear him breathe.

"Got her, Bill?" asked the man below.

"You bet I got her! She's here all right, just like I said she'd be," answered the man in the tree.

Jamie's heart sank. After all his hopes and efforts he became suddenly aware that he could not return to camp triumphantly bearing Lem Horn's silver fox pelt as he had pictured himself doing. Lem would never get the pelt again. Every one in the Bay would go on believing that Indian Jake had shot Lem and stolen the pelt. And he had been so near setting all this right!

It never entered his head that the cache could contain anything else than the pelt. Because he wished Indian Jake to be innocent of the crime, he had come to believe that he was innocent, even though Indian Jake himself had not denied having the stolen property in his possession, and everybody, save only himself and David and Andy, believed Indian Jake had it.

"Here she be safe and sound and as good as ever," said the man as he dropped from the lower limb of the tree to the ground. "Let's open her up and have a drink, Hank."

"I'll go you, Bill. My throat feels as long as a camel's and as dry as a snake's back."

Jamie could see the man called Bill stooping over the small bag to untie it, and presently draw forth a bottle.

"Here she be, and the other three bottles too," said Bill. "You open her up, Hank, while I see if the roll is there and the other stuff."

Bill ran his arm in the bag.

"Yes, it's all right," he assured. "I guess the Captain didn't miss the money before the ship sailed, and there ain't any way of his gettin' word in to the boss about it now before next spring. We're safe enough to take it back and make our divvy. There won't be any search made for it now."

"Naw, we're safe enough now." Hank tipped the bottle to his lips, and handed it to Bill. "The boss ain't missed his liquor neither, and there won't be any to miss pretty soon the way you're pulin' at it."

"I don't know's I took any more'n you did," said Bill petulantly, corking the bottle and returning it to the bag. "It was a good move to play safe anyhow and hide the swag until we made sure the boss wouldn't go searching through our stuff for it. I don't know's he'd suspicion us any more'n the rest of the crew, but he'd search everybody's stuff if the Captain had give him a tip."

"You bet he would!" agreed Hank. "We just played in luck right through. They won't blame us for that other job, will they? They ain't likely to go makin' a search for that, be they?"

"Naw!" said Bill. "That other feller, whatever his name is, has got 'em on his trail for that. We ain't in it. They'll never suspicion us for that. We made a slick job of that."

"Well, let's beat it back," said Hank. "It's snowin' and it's goin' to snow hard. The sooner we gets back to camp the better we'll be off."

Bill swung the bag over his shoulder, when suddenly he stopped and exclaimed:

"What's that?"

Jimmy had sneezed, and again he sneezed.

"Some sneak in that there tree!" and Bill with an oath dropped his bag and seized his rifle, which he had leaned against the tree in which Jimmy was perched. "I'll put a bullet up there! That'll settle that feller, whoever he is!"



CHAPTER XIV

THE TWO DESPERADOS

"Don't shoot, sir! It's just me!" Jamie piped in terror from the tree.

"It's only a kid!" Bill swore an oath of disgust and lowered his rifle. "You git down out'n that tree! Git down quicker'n lightnin', too!"

"I'm comin', sir!" came Jamie's frightened voice from the tree-top.

Jamie lost no time in descending from his perch and in a moment stood trembling before his captors. It was quite dark now and snowing hard, and to the frightened little lad the two big lumbermen loomed up like giants.

"What you doin' here?" demanded Bill with an oath as he seized Jamie's arm with a grip that made the lad wince.

"I were—I were huntin' for the cache," confessed Jamie.

"Goin' to steal our cache, was ye? Well, we'll teach you to leave other folkses things be!" The man gave Jamie a savage shake. "Tryin' to steal our cache, eh? Who set you on to it? That's what I want to know! Who set you on to stealin' it, now?"

"I weren't goin' to steal un, sir," chattered Jamie, horrified at the implication that he was a thief.

"What were you huntin' the cache for, then? Don't lie, you little rat, or I'll twist your neck off!"

The fellow seemed quite capable of executing the threat literally, as he again shook Jamie savagely.

"I—aint'—lyin'—about—un, sir!" pleaded Jamie between the shakes. "I were—just—goin'—to—look—at un, and—if—'tweren't—Lem Horn's silver fox—I weren't—goin' to touch un!"

"Well, 'tain't Lem Horn's silver fox. It's things of our'n! Do you hear that? 'Tain't Lem Horn's silver, it's our'n what's in that there bag! You leave our things be! Do you hear what I'm sayin'? You and your gang keep away from our cache, and don't go foolin' with anything you don't know anything about! Do you hear?" The man gave Jamie another shake.

"I—I didn't know! We—we just suspicioned 'twere Lem's silver, and I were wantin' to take un back to he," explained Jamie.

"You heard what I said? 'Tain't Lem Horn's silver! You hear that, don't you?"

"Aye, sir, I saw what you was takin' out of the bag, and 'tweren't Lem Horn's silver. 'Twere something to drink out of a bottle. I sees you drinkin' it."

"Let the kid go, Bill," laughed Hank, who until now had kept silent.

"We were all thinkin' 'twere Lem's silver. I'll tell un 'twere not the silver but somethin' else that you takes from the Captain that you were hidin' in the cache," said Jamie hopefully.

"You goin' to tell that! You heard what we said, and you goin' to blab it?" the man roared in a rage.

"Aye, sir, I'll just tell the others so's they'll not be thinkin' 'tis Lem's silver," said Jamie innocently.

"The others? Who's 'the others'?" demanded Bill.

"Doctor Joe and the other scouts," Jamie explained.

"'Doctor Joe and the other scouts,'" quoted the big lumberman. "Who's this here Doctor Joe? And who's the other scouts?"

"He's Doctor Joe! Everybody knows Doctor Joe!" explained Jamie, quite astonished that any one should ask who Doctor Joe might be. "The scouts be the other lads of the Bay, sir."

"Well, this here Doctor Joe, whoever he is, and these here other scouts, whoever they be, better keep out'n our business and mind their own," roared the man. "I suppose they're this here bunch what's campin' down by the brook and been runnin' all over the country to-day?"

"Aye, sir, we're all campin' down handy to the brook, and we've all been lookin' for the cache, but I'm the only one that finds the rock," admitted Jamie.

"You ain't camped down there now!" The man swore a mighty and strange oath that made Jamie tremble. "You was camped there, but now you ain't! You're goin' with us, you be! Hear that?"

"Aw, let the kid go!" broke in Hank, impatiently. "We better be gettin' a jog on us too. Leave the kid be, and come on. He's just a kid and he can't kick up any trouble. Leave him be, and let's get out of here."

"Not me!" The man gave Jamie's arm a painful twist. "I ain't goin' to leave this here kid to go back and blab to that there Doctor Joe and the hull country. He heard our talk, and if it gets to the boss you know what that means. I ain't takin' any chances on him, and I'm half of this."

"We'll be gettin' in bigger trouble if we takes him along. We'll have the hull country huntin' us," Hank protested.

"You heard me! I ain't goin' to take chances on his blabbin'! He goes along, and I'll fix him so's he won't blab and nobody'll get our trail if they do hunt us. The snow'll hide it," insisted Bill.

"Well, let's get a move on then," said Hank. "The wind's risin' and it's goin' to kick up a sea. I don't want to be caught out on the Bay again in a sea like we had that other time. The snow's goin' to be thick too, and we'll lose our bearings."

"Go on, then. I'll foller with the kid," said Bill, still holding Jamie's aching arm.

"Better let the kid go," said Hank, swinging a rifle over his left shoulder and with an axe in his right hand striding away through the darkness and thickly falling snow.

"Come along you!" and Jamie's captor, gripping Jamie's arm in one hand and with a rifle in the other, followed in the trail of the man Hank, dragging Jamie almost too fast for his legs to carry him.

On and on they went through the darkness. Now and again Jamie fell over stumps or other obstructions, and each time the man, with a curse, jerked him to his feet.

Snow was falling heavily and the wind was rising. Once they crossed a frozen marsh where the snow swirled around them in clouds. Then they were again among the forest trees, forging ahead in silence save for an occasional curse by the man who held Jamie in his merciless and relentless grip.



CHAPTER XV

MISSING!

Seth Muggs, intent upon keeping pace with Andy on his right, and not permitting him to get out of sight, quite neglected to be equally cautious as to Jamie on his left. In this Seth was in no wise neglectful. The responsibility in each case, in order to keep the line from breaking, was to keep the neighbour nearer the brook in view. In this Jamie alone had failed.

Jamie had, indeed, been out of line for a considerable time before Seth became aware of the fact. Even then he felt no concern. Doctor Joe had instructed Jamie to return to camp if he became weary, and when he was missed had no doubt he had taken advantage of the suggestion.

Nevertheless, when Doctor Joe passed the word along the line to reassemble, Seth gave several lusty shouts for Jamie. When, after a reasonable time, he received no reply, he was satisfied Jamie was snug in camp with the kettle boiling for tea, and he turned down to join the others at the brook.

"It's a little later than I thought," said Doctor Joe as they came together, "but we'll have plenty of time to reach camp before dark. Now let's count noses."

"Where's Jamie?" asked David. "We're all here but Jamie."

"I'm thinkin' he gets tired and goes back to camp like Doctor Joe were sayin' for he to do," suggested Seth. "I missed he a while back."

"How long has it been since you saw him last, Seth?" asked Doctor Joe.

"I'm not rightly knowin', but a half-hour whatever," said Seth, "and I'm thinkin' 'twere a bit longer."

"He has probably gone back to camp, then," agreed Doctor Joe. "It was a pretty hard tramp for such a little fellow. It is quite natural that he did not like to admit to you that he could not keep up with us, and he just slipped quietly away and returned to camp and said nothing about it. He couldn't well get lost with the brook so near to guide him."

"Jamie'd never be gettin' lost whatever," asserted Andy. "He's wonderful good at findin' his way about."

"'Tis goin' to snow, and 'twill be dark early," suggested David, as the little party turned down the brook to retrace their steps to camp. "There's a bend in the brook here; let's cut across un and save time. If she sets in to snow to-night 'tis like to keep un up all day to-morrow, and we'd better get back as quick as we can to cut plenty of wood and have un on hand."

"Very well," agreed Doctor Joe. "You go ahead and guide us, David."

"'Twill be fine and cosy just bidin' in camp and studyin' up the things in the book," said Obadiah as they followed David in a short cut toward camp. "We'll be havin' a fine time even if it does snow too hard to go about."

"Yes," agreed Doctor Joe, "we can do that and learn a great many things about scouting."

Suddenly David held up his hand for silence, and stooping peered through the trees ahead. The others followed his gaze, and there, not above fifty yards away and looking curiously at them, stood a caribou.

Only David and Doctor Joe had brought rifles. Almost instantly David's rifle rang out, and the caribou turned and disappeared.

"I'm sure I hit he!" exclaimed David running in the direction the caribou had taken. "I couldn't miss he so close, and a fair shot!"

"You hit he!" exclaimed Andy who had dashed ahead. "You hit he, Davy! Here's the mark of blood!"

A trail of blood left no doubt that the caribou had been hard hit, but it was followed for nearly a mile before they came upon the prostrate animal.

"Now we'll have plenty of fresh deer's meat!" burst out Obadiah enthusiastically. "We'll have meat for supper, and I'm wonderful hungry for un!"

"Yes," agreed Doctor Joe, "we had better dress it at once. There are enough of us to carry all the meat back with us to camp, and that will save making a return trip."

"'Twill be a fine surprise for Jamie when we comes back with deer's meat," said Andy enthusiastically.

"'Twill make us a bit late and he'll be thinkin' we finds the cache," suggested David. "I hopes he won't be comin' up the brook again to look for us."

"I hardly think he'll do that," said Doctor Joe, "but to be sure he does not some of you had better go to the brook and leave a sign to tell him which way we've gone. David and I will skin and dress the caribou."

"Come along, Seth," Andy volunteered. "We'll be goin' over to make the sign."

"Come back here as soon as you've done it," directed Doctor Joe. "We'll need your help in carrying the meat to camp."

"Aye, sir, we'll be comin' right back," agreed Andy as he and Seth hurried away.

Close to the brook, in a place where it could not fail to be seen, the lads set a pole at an angle of forty-five degrees, pointing in the direction in which the caribou had been killed. Against the pole and about a third of the distance from its lower end an upright stick was placed. This was an Indian sign familiar to all the hunters and wilderness folk, indicating that the party had gone in the direction in which the pole sloped, the upright stick a little way from the butt further indicating that the distance was not far.

"Jamie'll know what that means, and if he wearies of bidin' alone in camp and comes to find us he'll not be missin' us now whatever," said Andy with satisfaction, as he and Seth turned back.

"I'm goin' to blaze the trail over, and he won't be like to miss un, then," suggested Seth, taking the axe.

When Andy and Seth rejoined the others Doctor Joe and David had nearly finished skinning the caribou, and in due time they had it ready to cut up. The head was severed with as little of the neck meat as possible that there might be no unnecessary waste, for they could not carry the head with them. Then the tongue was removed, for this was considered a titbit.

The question of how to carry the meat to camp was finally settled by making two litters with poles. The carcass was now cut into two nearly equal parts, one of which was placed on each litter. Doctor Joe took the forward end of one of the litters, and David the forward end of the other. With two boys carrying the rear end of each litter, and the other lads the skin, heart, liver and tongue, and the two rifles and the axe, they at length set out for camp.

Night was falling and the first flakes of the coming snow-storm were felt upon their faces when finally the little white tents came in view.

"There's no light," remarked David, who was in advance. "Jamie's savin' candles. I'm hopin' now he has the kettle boilin'."

"He'll have un boilin'," assured Andy, who was one of the two boys at the rear of David's litter. "He'll be proud to have un boilin' and supper started."

"There's no smoke!" exclaimed David apprehensively as they came closer. "Jamie, b'y!" he shouted. "Where is you? Come out and see what we're gettin'!"

But no Jamie came, and there was no answering call. The stretchers were hastily placed on the ground, and every tent searched for Jamie.

"Jamie's never been comin' back since we leaves!" David declared. "Whatever has been happenin' to he?"

"I can't understand it," said Doctor Joe. "He could not possibly have been lost. Andy, you and Micah run down and look at the boats and see if he has been there."

Andy and Micah ran excitedly to the boats to report a few moments later that there were no indications of Jamie's return.

"David, you and I shall have to go and look for him," said Doctor Joe quietly. "Andy, you and the other lads build a fire outside as a guide. Get your supper, and don't worry until we return."

"What do you think's been happenin' to Jamie?" asked Andy anxiously.

"We took a short cut and did not follow the brook where it makes a wide bend," suggested Doctor Joe. "He may be waiting for us along the brook at that point."

"Oh, I hopes you'll find he there!" said Andy fervently.

"Get your rifle and plenty of cartridges, David," directed Doctor Joe. "I'll carry mine also. When we get up the trail we'll shoot to let Jamie know we're looking for him."

Each with a rifle on his shoulder, Doctor Joe in the lead and David following close behind, the two turned away into the now thickly falling snow and darkness.



CHAPTER XVI

BOUND AND HELPLESS

"See here," said the man in front, stopping and turning about after what had seemed hours to the exhausted and bruised Jamie, "I for one ain't goin' to try to cross the Bay to-night in this here snow. It's thicker'n mud, and there's a sea runnin' I won't take chances with, not while I'm sober. We may's well bunk."

"Guess you're right, pardner, we better bunk. But pull farther away to the west'ard before we put on a fire," agreed Jamie's captor with evident relief. "That bunch'll be out huntin' this here kid, and they may run on to us if we camp too close to 'em."

"We're a good two mile from 'em now. They'll never run on to us," argued the other.

"Go on a piece farther," insisted the man called Bill, who was gripping Jamie's arm so hard that it ached.

"Let the kid go! What's the use of draggin' him along? He'll just be in our way, and we've got troubles enough of our own," suggested the other.

"He ain't goin' back and have a chance to give us away to that bunch, not if I knows it. I've about made up my mind to croak him. He knows too much. Go on and find a place to bunk. I'm follerin'."

"You won't croak anybody while I'm hangin' around! I'm tellin' you I've got troubles enough on my hands already without chasin' a noose. I'm goin' to save my neck anyhow, and I ain't goin' to be mixed up in any croakin'," muttered the one called Hank, as he turned and plunged forward again through the darkness.

What "croaking" meant Jamie did not in the least know, but he suspected that it referred to something not in the least pleasant for himself. He was too tired, however, to think or care a great deal as he was dragged on, stumbling in the darkness over fallen logs, and bumping into trees.

It seemed an interminable time to Jamie before the man ahead again stopped, and said decisively:

"We'll camp here. We've gone far enough, and I ain't goin' another rod. We're a good five mile from them fellers you're afraid of."

"All right, I'm satisfied. You've got the axe, go ahead and make a cover," said Bill. "Kid, you come with me and help break branches for the bed. Don't you loaf neither. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," answered Jamie timidly.

It was a relief to stop walking and to feel the man relax the relentless grip upon his arm, and Jamie, meekly enough, began breaking boughs with the man always within striking distance, as though afraid that he might run away and make his escape, though Jamie was quite too tired for that.

The man with the axe cut a stiff pole and trimmed it. Then he lopped off the lower branches of two spruce trees that stood a convenient distance apart, and laid the pole on a supporting limb of each tree, about four feet from the ground. This was to form the ridge of a lean-to shelter. Poles were now cut and formed into a sloping roof by resting one end upon the ridge pole, the other upon the ground, and the poles covered with a thick thatch of branches to exclude the snow.

When this was completed a quantity of dry wood was cut, and in front of the lean-to a fire was lighted.

While the man with the axe was engaged in thatching the roof and lighting the fire and gathering wood, the other turned his attention to the preparation of the bed.

"Don't you try to break away, now!" he growled at Jamie. "I'll shoot you like I would a rat if you do. Just stand there and hand me them branches, and shake the snow off'n 'em first, too."

Running was the last thing that Jamie contemplated doing, even though there had been no danger of the man executing his threat. He was so tired he could scarcely stand upon his feet, and he had eaten nothing since the hurried meal at midday.

At length the bed was laid, and the men sat down within the shelter of the lean-to, and Bill ordered:

"Git down here, you kid, and set still too. Don't you try to leave here. You know what's comin' to you if you do."

As Jamie meekly and thankfully complied, Bill ran his arm into the bag that had been cached in the tree, and which had been the cause of all of Jamie's trouble, and drawing forth a bottle removed the cork and took a long pull from its contents. Making a face as though it did not taste good, he handed it over to Hank, remarking:

"Have a nip, Hank. It'll warm you up and make you feel good. I don't like this cruisin' in the dark."

Hank accepted the bottle and after drinking from it returned it to the bag. Then each drew a pipe and a plug of black tobacco from his pocket, and cutting some of the tobacco with the knife rolled it between the palms of his hands, stuffed it into his pipe and lighted it with a brand from the fire. For several minutes they sat and smoked in silence.

In the meantime Jamie sat timidly upon the boughs next the man Bill. As the fire blazed, the chill of the storm and night was driven out, and a cozy, comfortable warmth filled the lean-to. Jamie's eyes became heavy, and in spite of his unhappy position he dozed.

"See here," said the man, "you may's well sleep, but I ain't goin' to take any chances on you. I'm goin' to tie you so's you won't be givin' us the slip."

"Oh, leave the kid be, Bill! He's all right!" the other man objected.

"I ain't takin' chances," growled Bill. "I'm goin' to have some say about it, too."

He fumbled in his pocket, and drawing forth some stout twine proceeded to tie Jamie's hands securely behind his back. Then he tied Jamie's feet, and gave him a push to the rear.

"Now I guess you'll stay with us all right," he grinned.

"Aw, leave the kid be! What you want to tie him for?" Hank protested. "He can't get away. Better let him go anyhow."

"You leave me be to do what I wants to do and I'll leave you be to do what you wants to," growled Bill. "I'm goin' to keep this kid fast. This is my business."

"I don't know as it's all your business," snapped Hank. "I'm mixed up in it too, seems to me."

"Well, I caught the kid, and I'm goin' to have my say about what I do with him," Bill retorted. "I ain't goin' to let him make trouble for us, not if I knows what I'm about."

Hank made no reply, but puffed silently at his pipe.

Jamie was wide awake again. This man Bill meant some evil, and the little lad wondered vaguely what it could be that was to be done to himself, and what his fate was to be. He was vastly uncomfortable, too, with his hands tied behind his back, though he was glad enough to be permitted to lie down. He could scarcely keep the tears back, as he thought of the happy time in camp that had been planned, of the snug tent where he was to have slept with Doctor Joe, and of his own warm bed at home, and he wondered whether he would ever see The Jug again.

"The boss'll be sore at us, Hank, if we ain't back to camp to-morrow," remarked Bill presently, breaking the silence. "He can be sore though if he wants to. He can't fire us fellers for bein' away even if he does get sore and cuss us out. He needs us bad, and he can't get any more men now. I don't mind his cussin'. Cussin' don't hurt a feller."

"If the wind don't get worse and the snow lets up some so we can make out our way we better go back though as soon as it's light enough in the mornin'," answered Hank. "I wish I was out'n this business anyhow."

"We can get across the Bay even if it does snow some in the mornin', long's there ain't too much sea," said Bill. "I'm for gettin' away from here too. We've got the swag all right and nobody'll know about it, if we don't let this kid loose to blab. It was lucky we caught this feller before he found it, but he heard too much."

"What you goin' to do with him, Bill?"

"Croak him. I ain't goin' to take chances with him. It ain't my way to take chances I don't have to take."

"You better not do any croakin', Bill. I won't stand for that. I'm tough, and I've done plenty of tough things in my day, but I never croaked a little kid like him, and I won't stand for it."

"Don't you go and get soft now. 'Tain't any worse to croak a kid than a man. You'd croak a man if you had to, and this is a time when we've got to do it to save ourselves."

"Well, I won't stand for it while I'm sober, and I'm sober now even if I have had a drink or two." Hank reached for a firebrand with which to relight his pipe.

"Well, you've got to stand for this. I'm mixed up in it just as much as you be, and I'm goin' to have some say. I ain't goin' to take chances on him goin' back to his gang and givin' us away."

"How you goin' to do it?"

"Take him along in the boat and drop him overboard. That's the easiest way. There ain't much chance of anybody findin' him, and if they do they'll just think he got drowned some way hisself. Dead folks don't talk."

"That's somethin' I won't stand for! You can't go droppin' anybody overboard while I'm in the boat! Not if I know it!"

"What you goin' to do, play the sucker?" Bill turned angrily toward his companion. "Maybe you'll go and peach!"

"Don't you call me a sucker! Don't you say I'm a peacher!" Hank rose to his feet and faced Bill menacingly.

For a moment Jamie thought the men were going to fight, but Bill remained seated and his manner suddenly changed. Jamie thought he acted as though he were afraid.

"See here, Hank," Bill's voice was modified and conciliatory. "I ain't callin' you a sucker, and I ain't sayin' you'll peach. What's the use of us fellers fightin' about it? We're in this together and we're pardners. We've got to hang together. What's the use of us fallin' out?"

"I'm willin' to hang together but I won't be called a sucker or peacher by anybody, and I ain't goin' to stand for any croakin' neither while I've got a gun! Hear me?"

"What we goin' to do about this here kid then? We can't let him go. He'll up and run back and blab. He's heard too much about our business. We don't want to go huntin' trouble, do we? Well, we'll be huntin' trouble if we let him go. He knows too much and he knows all about who we be too."

"What does he know, now? He don't know anything except what you've gone and blabbed yourself. We just caught him tryin' to swipe our cache. The stuff is our'n. 'Tain't his'n. Our stuff is our'n, ain't it? What can he blab about? That's what I want to know!"

"He'll go and tell folks we've got this here swag from the ship, and it'll go to the boss. That's what he knows, and that's what he'll blab."

"Well, what we've got is our'n. He can't prove we've got that there swag, and we'll hide it where the boss can't find it. He hain't seen any swag around, has he? He can't say he has neither, and he won't. He just thought maybe we had that there fox skin. What's that got to do with us? We don't care what he thinks, and what he thinks won't hurt us as I knows of. What we've got and what we ain't got don't make any difference to these fellers. What they don't know won't hurt 'em. It ain't theirs, and nobody better go meddlin' in what I has and does. Let that there kid go now, Bill, and get him off'n our hands."

"You just leave him to me, Hank. I ain't goin' to let him go and blab, I say, and get both of us in a hole. I've got some say, hain't I, Hank?"

"Well, don't do any croakin' when I'm around to see, that's all I've got to say. He's your'n to do the way you want to with. I won't have any finger in it. It's your job, it ain't mine."

"Well, I'll do the croakin' some other way. You needn't have anything to do about it if you're afraid. I'll do it all by myself."

"Afraid or no afraid I ain't goin' to be mixed up in any croakin', and that ends it as far as I go."

Hank knocked the ashes from his pipe, refilled it from the black plug, and lifting a red hot coal from the fire placed it upon the bowl, and puffed for a moment. When the tobacco was glowing to his satisfaction, he flicked the coal back into the fire, and sat silently smoking.

Jamie, lying quiet, had listened to the conversation of the two men. He was wide awake now. He did not understand the significance of "croaking," but the word had an ominous sound. It referred to something the man called Bill wished to do to him and something to which the man called Hank objected. He understood, however, the threat to throw him into the Bay. The fellow Bill wished to do this while Hank was determined to prevent it.

Instinctively Jamie felt that Hank was only defending him in order to protect himself. He had no personal interest in him, but did not propose to be involved in any trouble that might arise through some action that Bill wished to take. He was glad when, finally, it appeared settled that he was not to be thrown into the sea.

Bill arose and replenished the fire, and following Hank's example refilled and lighted his pipe, then reseated himself.

Neither of the men spoke. Beyond their great hulking figures the fire gleamed and sent a circle of radiance. Beyond the circle the forest lay as black as a tomb. The snow fell steadily, and the wind sighed and moaned ominously through the tree tops.

What were Doctor Joe and the lads doing? Were they searching for him through the blackness of the night and the storm? If he had only followed Doctor Joe's instructions and returned to camp in season! Would these men kill him? Would he ever see the dear old home at The Jug again?

With these thoughts flashing through his mind Jamie prayed a silent little prayer:

"Dear Lord, don't let un kill me! Take me back to The Jug again!"

Many times he repeated this to himself. Then there came to him something Thomas had once said when the mist was clouding his eyes:

"Have plenty o' grit, lad, and a stout heart like a man."

This comforted and strengthened him, and, like the prayer, he repeated it over and over again to himself as he lay watching the silent men. For a long time he watched them and the fire beyond, and the falling snow and the black wall of the forest. Finally tired nature came to his relief. His eyes closed and he fell into a troubled sleep.



CHAPTER XVII

LOST IN A BLIZZARD

After a time Jamie awoke. The two men were still sitting by the fire and were again drinking from the bottle. He was uncomfortable in his cramped position, but dared not move, and he lay very still and watched the men and the fire and the black wall of the mysterious, trackless forest beyond. Shadows rose and fell and flitted in and out of the circle of firelight. Weird and uncanny they seemed, taking strange forms like dancing spirits. In the darkness outside the firelight and moving shadows Jamie fancied that terrible ghoulish forms were stalking stealthily and grinning maliciously at him.

For a long while Jamie lay awake and watched. Again and again the men drank from the bottle, and when they spoke at intervals their voices sounded unnatural and thick. Once one of them arose to replenish the fire, and he moved unsteadily upon his feet, at which the little lad marvelled, for he was a large, strong man. Presently Jamie's eyes drooped again, and once more he slept.

When he again awoke dawn was breaking. Snow was falling heavily. The two men were in a deep sleep. The fire had died down to a bed of coals, and Jamie was shivering with the cold.

His arms were numb, and his body and limbs ached from the cramped position in which he lay because of his bound arms and feet. With some effort he turned over, and this brought him some relief, but not for long, and presently he rolled back to his original position that he might see the red coals of the fire.

Jamie tried to move his hands, but his wrists were too firmly tied, and the effort brought only pain. Then he lay still and studied the smouldering fire. Behind it lay the remnants of a back log that had been burned through in the centre. The inner ends of the log, where it was separated, were, like the coals before it, red and glowing, and he thought that if he could push them together they would blaze and give out warmth.

Then, suddenly, an idea flashed into Jamie's brain. Those red ends of the log would burn the string that bound him, and he could free himself if he could only reach them and press the string against them.

His movements in turning over had not disturbed his captors. They were still sleeping profoundly. From the condition of the fire it was evident they had been sitting by it the greater part of the night and had replenished it at a late hour, else all the coals would have been dead.

Hank lay at the opposite end of the lean-to from Jamie, and Bill in the centre, with their feet toward the fire. Jamie was lying at the back, his head near Bill's head and his feet toward the end of the lean-to farthest from Hank.

For several minutes Jamie studied the position of each and the possibilities of working his way out of the lean-to without awakening the men. Finally he determined to make an attempt to gain his freedom.

Cautiously and as noiselessly as possible he began to wriggle away, inch by inch, from Bill, and toward the fire. Several times he fancied the men moved restlessly in their sleep, but when he looked toward them they appeared to be still sleeping heavily. On each occasion, however, he lay still until he became wholly satisfied that he had been mistaken and that they had not been disturbed.

Little by little he edged away until at length he was well outside the lean-to. His efforts were painful and slow, but in the course of half an hour he was near enough to the end of the log to touch it with his bound feet. His exertions had set his blood in motion and inspired him with hope of success.

With much care and patience he pushed the stick until he was able to rest the string, where it crossed between his ankles, upon the glowing end. Drawing his feet as far apart as possible, with all the strength he possessed, he was quickly rewarded by feeling a relaxation, and in a moment his heart leaped with joy. The string was severed.

Squirming around upon his chest, Jamie arose to a kneeling position, and then stood erect. So far as his legs were concerned he was free.

Jamie's first impulse was to run wildly away, but he restrained himself. Standing over the men he looked down upon them. Neither had moved, and to all appearances they were sleeping as soundly as ever.

"I'm thinkin' now I'll try to burn off the string on my hands too," he decided. "'Twill be easier gettin' on with un free, and I'll travel a rare lot faster with my arms loose."

Burning the strings from his wrists, however, proved a much more difficult problem than burning them from his ankles. He sat down with his back to the hot end of the stick, but discovered that it was no easy matter to find just the right position between the wrists. Several efforts resulted only in painful burns on his hands, but he was not discouraged, and finally was rewarded. The string where it crossed between his wrists was brought into contact with the sharp point of the glowing hot stick, and though the reflected heat burned him cruelly he held the string pressed against the fire until at last it crumbled away and his hands flew apart.

"She took grit," said he, "but I made out to do un."

With the joy of freedom and the anxiety to escape his tormentors, Jamie was oblivious to the pain of his burned and blistered wrists. He could use both hands and feet, and was confident that he would soon find the camp and his friends.

Jamie ran as fast as his short legs would carry him. The snow was nearly knee deep, but it was soft and feathery and he scarcely gave it thought at first. He had no doubt that he knew exactly in which direction camp lay, and it never entered his head that he might go wrong or lose his way as he dashed through the woods at the best speed of which he was capable.

Presently the impediment of the snow compelled him to reduce his gait to a walk, and for nearly an hour he pushed on in what he supposed was a straight line, when he came suddenly upon fresh axe cuttings and a moment later saw through the thickly falling snow a familiar lean-to. He stopped in consternation and fright, scarcely knowing which way to turn. He was within fifty feet of the two desperate men from whom he had so recently fled. In the storm he had made a complete circuit.

The men were still soundly sleeping, and instinctively Jamie backed away. He had lost a full hour of valuable time. The men might awake at any moment, discover his absence and trail him and overtake him in the snow.

These thoughts flashed through Jamie's mind, and in wild panic he turned and ran until at length exhaustion brought him to a halt.

"They'll sure be cotchin' me," he panted, "and I'm not knowin' the way in the snow! I'll be goin' right around and comin' back again to the same place if I don't look out! I can't bide here," he continued in desperation. "I'll have to go somewheres else or they'll sure cotch me!"

Bewildered and frightened Jamie looked wildly about him. Then he bethought himself of the compass in his pocket. Eagerly drawing it forth he held it in his hand and studied its face.

"The Bay's to the suth'ard, whatever," he calculated. "If the Bay's to the suth'ard the brook's to the east'ard. I'll be lettin' the compass pilot me to the east'ard. 'Twill take me the right direction whatever."

Levelling the compass carefully in his hand so that the needle swung freely he found the east, and as rapidly as his little legs would carry him set out again in his effort to escape the two sleeping men and to find camp and his friends.

At intervals he stopped to consult his compass. Then he would hurry forward again as fast as ever he could go through the snow, looking behind him fearfully, half expecting each time to see the men in close pursuit, and always with the dread that a gruff voice in the rear would command him to halt, or that a rifle bullet would be sent after him without warning.

As time passed and there was no indication that he was followed, Jamie began to feel some degree of security. Because of the storm it was unlikely that the men would venture upon the Bay. They had kept late hours drinking at the bottle, and unless they were awakened by the cold they would in all probability sleep late and therefore not discover his absence until the thickly falling snow had so far covered his trail as to preclude the possibility of them following it with certainty.

With his mind more or less relieved on this point, Jamie suddenly realized that he was hungry. It was nearing midday. He had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and he had the normal appetite of a healthy boy. The snow had perceptibly increased in depth since his escape from the lean-to, and walking was correspondingly hard. He was so hungry and so weary that at length he could scarcely force one foot ahead of the other.

The wind was rising, and in crossing an open frozen marsh the snow drifted before the gale in clouds so dense as to be suffocating. The storm was attaining the proportions of a blizzard, and when Jamie again reached the shelter of the forest beyond the marsh he found it necessary to stop to rest and regain his breath.

"'Twill never do to try to cross another mesh," he decided. "I'm like to be overcome with un and perish before I finds my way out of un to the timber. I'll stick to the woods, and if I can't stick to un I'll have to bide where I is till the snow stops. I wonders now if Doctor Joe and David is out lookin' for me. I'm not thinkin' they'd bide in the tent with me lost out here and they not knowin' where I is."

When he was rested a little he arose, took his direction with the compass, and floundered on through the snow.

"They's sure out somewhere lookin' for me," he thought, "but 'tis snowin' so hard they never will find me! I'll have to keep goin' till I finds camp. 'Tis strange now I'm not comin' to the brook, 'tis wonderful strange. I'm thinkin' though I were crossin' two meshes with the men in the night, and I've only been crossin' one goin' back to-day. I'm fearin' I'll never be able to cross un though, when I comes to the next un."

Presently, as Jamie had thought would be the case, he came to another marsh. It satisfied him that he was going in the right direction, but at the same time it lay out before him as a well-nigh impassable barrier. The wind was driving the snow across it in swirling dense clouds, and he stood for a little in the shelter of the trees and viewed it with heavy heart.

"'Tis a bigger mesh than the other," he commented to himself, "but I'll have to try to cross un. I can't bide here. I'll freeze to death with no shelter and I has no axe for makin' a shelter. I'm not knowin' what to do."

For a little while he hesitated, then he plunged out upon the edge of the marsh. He was nearly swept from his feet, and to recover his breath he was forced to retreat again to the woods. Three times he tried to face the storm-swept marsh, but each time was sent staggering back to shelter. It was a task beyond the strength and endurance of so young a lad, and utterly exhausted and bitterly disappointed, he sat down upon the trunk of a fallen tree to rest.

"I never can make un whilst the nasty weather lasts," he acknowledged. "I'm fair scrammed and I'll have to wait for the wind to ease before I tries un again."

He could scarce restrain the tears. It was a bitter disappointment. He was so hungry, and so weary, and wished so hard to reach the safety of camp and freedom from the still present danger of being recaptured.

"I'll have plenty o' grit and a stout heart like a man," he presently declared. "I don't mind bein' a bit hungry, and I'll never be givin' up! I'll never give up whatever! Pop says plenty o' grit'll pull a man out o' most any fix. I'm in a bad fix now, and I'll have grit and won't be gettin' scared. 'Twill never do to be gettin' scared whatever."

Jamie sat quietly upon the log, and presently found himself dozing. He sprang to his feet, for sleeping under these conditions was dangerous. He tried to walk about, but was so tired that he again returned to the log to rest. It was growing colder, and he shivered. The storm was increasing in fury.

"I'm not knowin' what to do!" he said despairingly. "If I goes on I'll perish and if I keeps still I'll freeze to death and I'm too wearied to move about to keep warm. 'Tis likely the storm'll last the night through whatever, and I'll never be able to stick un out that long."

Jamie again found himself dozing, and again he got upon his feet.

"I'll have to be doin' somethin'," said he. "I'll keep my grit and try to think of somethin' to do or I'll perish."

Jamie was right. He was in peril, and grave peril. Even though the storm-swept marsh had not stood in his way he was quite too weary to walk farther. He was thrown entirely upon his own resources. His life depended upon his own initiative, for he was quite beyond help from others. It was a great unpeopled wilderness in which Jamie was lost, and he was but a wee lad, and even though Doctor Joe and David were looking for him there was scarce a chance that they could find him in the raging storm.



CHAPTER XVIII

A PLACE TO "BIDE"

Dazed and almost hopeless Jamie stood and gazed about him at the thick falling snow. His body and brain were tired, but some immediate action was imperative or he would be overcome by his weariness and the cold.

"If I were only bringin' an axe, I could fix a place to bide in and cut wood for a fire," he said. "If I were only bringin' an axe!"

He thrust his hands deep into his pocket and felt the big, stout jack-knife that Doctor Joe had given him, and he drew it out.

"Maybe now I can fix un with just this," he said hopefully. "I've got to have grit and I've got to try my best whatever."

He looked up and there, within two feet of the log upon which he had been sitting, were two spruce trees about six feet apart.

"Maybe I can fix un right here," he commented, "and maybe I can lay a fire against the log and if I can get un afire she'll burn a long while and keep un warm."

With much effort he cut and trimmed a stiff, strong pole. The lower limbs of the trees were not above four feet from the ground, and upon these he rested his pole, extending it from tree to tree. This was to form the ridge pole to support the roof of his lean-to, for he was to form a shelter similar to that improvised by the two men the evening before.

Then he cut other poles to form the roof, and resting them upon the ridge pole and the ground at a convenient angle to make a commodious space beneath, he covered them with a thick thatch of boughs, which were easily broken from the overhanging limbs of surrounding trees. This done he enclosed the ends of his shelter in like manner, and laid beneath it a floor of boughs.

Jamie surveyed his work with satisfaction and hope. No snow could reach the cave-like interior; it was as well protected and as comfortable as ever a lean-to could be made, and a very little fire would warm it. Though much smaller, it was quite as good a shelter as that made by the two men, and possessed the added advantage of closed ends, which would render it much easier to heat. He had occupied more than two hours in its construction, and it had called for ingenuity and much hard work.

The opening of the lean-to faced the fallen tree trunk, which lay before it in such a position that it would serve excellently as a backlog.

Though he had no axe with which to cut firewood, he soon discovered upon scouting about that scattered through the forest were many dried and broken limbs that could be had for the gathering, and in a little while he had accumulated a sufficient supply to serve for several hours.

This done he pushed away the snow from before the fallen tree trunk as best he could. Using as tinder a handful of the long hairy moss that hung from the inner limbs of the spruce trees, he lighted it with a match from the tin box salvaged the previous day at the big rock. Placing the burning moss upon the cleared spot next the log he applied small sticks and, as they caught fire, larger ones, until presently a fire was blazing and crackling cheerily in front of his lean-to with the fallen tree as a backlog to reflect the heat.

Utterly weary Jamie stretched himself upon his bed of boughs, and it seemed to him that he had never been in a cosier place in all his life.

"Pop were sayin' right when he says grit will help a man over any tight place," breathed Jamie contentedly. "If I were givin' up I'd sure perished before to-morrow mornin', for 'tis growin' wonderful cold; but I has grit and a stout heart like a man, and I gets a place to bide and a fine warm fire to heat un."

With the first moments of relaxation, Jamie became aware that his wrists were exceedingly painful, and upon examination he discovered that they had been burned much worse than he had realized in his attempts to sever the string that bound them. Large blisters had been raised, and one of the blisters had been broken, doubtless while he was engaged in building his lean-to shelter. The loose skin had been rubbed off, and the angry red wound left unprotected.

"I'll have to fix un," he declared. "The sore places'll be gettin' rubbed against things, and be a wonderful lot worse and I leaves un bide as they is."

In the course of the first aid instruction, Doctor Joe had taught Jamie, as well as David and Andy, the art of applying bandages, but now Jamie had no bandages to apply. For a little while he helplessly contemplated his wrists. But for the fact that they were becoming exceedingly painful he would have decided to ignore them, for in his wearied condition it was an effort to do anything.

"I knows how I'll fix un," he said at length. "I'll cut pieces from the bottom o' my shirt to bind un up with. They'll keep un from gettin' rubbed whatever, and when I gets back to camp Doctor Joe'll fix un up right."

This he proceeded to do at once with the aid of his jack-knife, and presently had two serviceable bandages ready to apply.

"Doctor Joe were sayin' how to keep the air away from burns by usin' oil or molasses or flour or somethin'," he hesitated. "And he were sayin' to keep sores from gettin' dirt into un whatever. He says the sores'll be gettin' inflicted or infested or somethin'—I'm not rememberin' just what 'twere, but somethin' bad whatever—if they gets dirt into un. I've been wearin' the shirt three days, and I'm thinkin' 'tis not as clean as Doctor Joe wants the bindin' for sores to be, and I'll cover the sore place where the blisters were rubbin' off with fir sap. That'll keep un clean. Pop says 'tis fine for sores."

Crawling out of his nest Jamie found a young balsam fir tree, and with his sharp jack-knife cut from the bark several of the little sacs in which sap is secreted. He had often seen Thomas cut them and daub the contents upon cuts and bruises, and sometimes even have him and the other boys take the sap as medicine. Returning to the lean-to he pierced the ends of the sacs with the point of his knife, and carefully smeared the contents over his burned wrist where the skin was broken, taking care that all of the exposed flesh was well covered with the sap. Jamie had, indeed, fallen upon the best antiseptic dressing that the surrounding woods supplied.

This done to his satisfaction, he bound his wrists with the improvised bandages, applying them carefully, after the manner in which Doctor Joe had taught him in his lessons in first aid.

"'Tain't so bad," commented Jamie holding the wrists up and surveying them with satisfaction. "They feels a wonderful lot easier, whatever. But I'd never been knowin' how if 'tweren't for Doctor Joe showin' me."

Jamie stretched himself upon the bed of boughs, and for a time lay watching the fire and thickly falling snow and listening to the wind shrieking and howling through the tree tops. Several times he fancied he heard the report of distant rifle shots, and at these times he would start up and listen intently and look cautiously out, half expecting and fearful that he would see the two lumbermen coming to recapture him.

But no one came to disturb him, and he assured himself at length that he had heard only the cracking of dead branches in the storm, and that there had been no rifle shots. Then, at last, his eyes drooped and he slept.

Hours afterward Jamie awoke. He was shivering with the cold. The fire had burned out, save the backlog which still glowed. It was night. The storm had passed and the wind dropped to fitful blasts. The stars were shining brightly, and the sky was clear save for feathery, fast moving cloud patches.

Jamie rebuilt the fire, and lay down to await morning. He was so hungry that he could scarce lie still, but again his eyes drooped and again he slept.

It was near daybreak when Jamie was startled by some unusual noise, and sat up with a jerk. He listened intently, and satisfied that someone was approaching sprang up and looked cautiously out, seized with panic and ready for flight. In the dim starlight he could plainly see two men coming toward him over the marsh.



CHAPTER XIX

SEARCHING THE WHITE WILDERNESS

Nearly three hours passed before Doctor Joe and David returned to camp, disheartened and thoroughly alarmed, to report that they had found no trace of Jamie. In the thick-falling snow and darkness they had been forced to relinquish the search until daylight should come to their assistance.

Andy and the boys were dazed. It could hardly be comprehended or credited that Jamie was, indeed, lost. They ate their belated supper in silence, half expecting that he would, after all, come walking in upon them. Doctor Joe was grave and preoccupied. Several times, now he, now David, went out into the night to stand and listen in the storm, but all they heard was the wail of wind in the tree tops.

At last, with heavy hearts, they went to bed, upon Doctor Joe's advice. Andy asked that he might pass the night in the tent with Doctor Joe and David, and so it was arranged. Neither Andy nor David, more worried than they had ever been in all their lives before, felt in the least like sleep. Doctor Joe did not lie down with them. For a long while the two lads lay awake and watched him crouching before the stove smoking his pipe, his face grave and thoughtful. He had spoken no word of encouragement, and the lads knew that he was troubled beyond expression.

The wind was rising. In sudden gusts of anger it dashed the snow against the tent in swirling blasts, and moaned dismally through the tree tops. The crackling fire in the stove, usually so cheerful, only served now to increase their sorrow. It offered warmth and comfort and protection from the night and cold and drifting snow, which Jamie, if he had not perished, was denied. They could only think of him as wandering and suffering in the cold and darkness, hungry and miserable, and they condemned themselves.

When sleep finally carried the lads into unconsciousness, Doctor Joe's tall figure was still crouching before the stove, and when they awoke he was already up and had kindled a fresh fire in the stove, though it was not yet day, and the tent was lighted by the flickering flame of a candle.

"'Twill be daylight by the time we've finished breakfast," said Doctor Joe as the lads sat up. "It's snowing harder than ever, but I think we had better go out as soon as we can see and have a look up the brook. Jamie may not be so far away. We may find him bivouacked quite close to camp. The snow is getting deep and we shall not find travelling easy."

"We'll be lookin' the best we can, whatever," agreed David. "I couldn't bide in the tent with Jamie gone. I'm wakin' with a wonderful heavy heart. I'm findin' it hard to believe he's not about camp, and I were just dreamin' about he bein' lost."

"That's the way I feels too," said Andy. "I wakes feelin' most like I'd have to cry. Can't I be goin' with you and Davy? I never can bide here whilst you're away, Doctor Joe."

"Yes, we three will go and we'll take some of the other lads with us, though we'll have to leave somebody in camp to keep the fire going," agreed Doctor Joe. "We'll need warm tents when we come back, if we bring Jamie with us, and I hope we'll find him none the worse for his night out."

"'Tisn't like 'twere winter," suggested David hopefully. "'Tisn't so cold, if he were havin' matches to put on a fire, but I'm doubtin' he has matches."

"Let us hope he had. Andy, suppose you call the others," suggested Doctor Joe. "Breakfast is nearly ready."

Andy was already dressed, and hurrying out he presently returned with the other lads. Breakfast of venison and bread with hot tea was hurriedly eaten, while they put forth all sorts of theories as to the cause of Jamie's disappearance and the possibilities of finding him.

"I'm thinkin' now," said David with a more hopeful view as daylight began to filter through the tent, "that Jamie'll be knowin' how to fix a shelter, and that we'll be findin' he safe and that he'll be just losin' his way a bit in the storm. If he has matches he'll sure be puttin' a fire on."

"I'm doubtin' he has the matches," suggested Andy discouragingly. "He weren't thinkin' to be away from camp and he weren't takin' any. He were never on the trails, and he'd sure be forgettin' to take un."

"Let us hope he has them," Doctor Joe encouraged. "If he has matches I'm sure he'll be safe enough."

"'Twere my fault he were gettin' lost," said Seth. "He'd never been gettin' lost if I'd only kept he in sight the way you said to do."

"No," objected Doctor Joe, "we'll not say it was anybody's fault."

Presently they were ready. Seth and Micah were detailed to remain in camp, and the others set forth, David and Doctor Joe carrying their rifles.

In much the same manner as that adopted in the search for the rock the previous day, Doctor Joe and the boys spread out on the left, or westward, side of the brook. Now, however, they were much closer together, because they could see so short a distance through the snow. Walking was much harder, and their progress correspondingly slower.

Thus they continued to the farthest point reached before turning back the previous day, David or Doctor Joe now and again firing shots from their rifles. Then they turned back, making the return just to the westward of the trail made by Doctor Joe, who was on the left flank as they passed up the brook.

"There's a rock! There's a big rock!" shouted David, as the rock where Jamie had begun his search for the cache loomed high through the snow.

Every one ran to the rock, and as they gathered by its side, Andy exclaimed:

"I knows now what Jamie does! He were near enough to see the rock! He were the last one beyond Seth, and he finds un and he goes huntin' the cache by himself, and it gets dark and he gets lost when the snow comes!"

"That sounds reasonable," admitted Doctor Joe. "I shouldn't be the least surprised if you were right! It's more than probable that's just what happened! The thing now is to find the direction Jamie probably took from here, and the snow has covered all trace of him."

"With his trail all covered, there'll be no trackin' he. What'll we do about un?" asked David. "'Tis hard to think out what way Jamie'd be like to go from here."

"Let's try goin' the way the paper said the cache was," suggested Andy. "Maybe Jamie finds un in the tree and climbs the tree and falls and hurts himself."

"Andy is right," agreed Doctor Joe. "It is quite likely he used his copy of the directions to find the cache, and that he went in the direction specified. We'll do the same."

It did not take them long to find the hackmatack tree, and in doing so they stumbled upon the pile of rocks Jamie had built up for a compass rest. It was covered with snow, but was high enough to be discernible, and a careful clearing of the snow discovered the fact that the stones had been recently piled.

"They may have been piled by the man who made the cache," suggested Doctor Joe.

"He'd never been doin' that!" objected David. "'Twould make the tree too easy to find. I'm thinkin' 'twere Jamie piles un."

"What would Jamie be pilin' the stones for now?" asked Lige sceptically. "He'd not be takin' time to go pilin' up stones that way."

"He piles un to pilot us when we comes huntin' he," suggested David.

They took the next direction, and in due time discovered the round rock, the top of which they likewise cleared of snow that they might make quite certain it was the rock for which they were searching. Then, in due time, Jamie's second pile of rocks and finally the birch tree were located.

At the birch tree all clues were lost. Vainly they circled the surrounding country, firing rifles occasionally until they came to the edge of the marsh.

"We'd never be findin' he on the mesh, if he gets out there," suggested David.

"No," agreed Doctor Joe, "and there's no reason to suppose that he crossed it to the other side."

"That's what I thinks," said David. "He's somewheres this side of the mesh. He'd never cross un. He'd be knowin' there's no mesh between here and camp."

"He'd know 'twere not the way to camp," declared Andy. "Jamie'd never be forgettin' that he crosses no mesh comin' from camp however turned about he is. He'd never be so turned about as that."

"We'll search all the country, then, between this marsh and the brook," suggested Doctor Joe.

They could not know that Jamie, on the opposite side of the marsh, was at that moment in a snug shelter, and had been listening to their rifle shots, and supposing them to be the breaking of dead branches in the wind. Jamie was too small and too inexperienced to face and weather the storm on the marsh, unassisted, but Doctor Joe or David or even Andy might have crossed it. How often it happens that an obstacle that might be surmounted turns us back at the very door of success!

Wearily they trailed back through the woods, and up and down until darkness finally forced them to return to camp unsuccessful and heavy hearted. The younger lads were almost too weary to drag their feet behind them. They had eaten nothing since their early breakfast, but Seth and Micah, anxiously watching and hoping, had a hot supper of fried venison and bread and tea ready, and as soon as they had finished their meal, Doctor Joe directed that they go to bed and rest.

Long before daybreak Doctor Joe was stirring. He lighted the fire, and when the kettle boiled roused David. Breakfast was ready when Andy awoke.

"Is you startin' so early?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "'Tis wonderful early. We can't see to travel till light with snow fallin'."

"Clear and fine outside!" said Doctor Joe, "I'm not satisfied that Jamie didn't cross the marsh. It's likely to be a long hard tramp and David and I are going alone this morning because we can travel faster. If we don't find Jamie by noon we'll come back after you and the other lads. You'll be fresh and rested then for the afternoon's search. We can't give it up till we find Jamie."

"I'd be keepin' up with you," protested Andy.

"If you go we'll have to take some of the others," objected Doctor Joe. "The snow is deep and they'll not be able to travel as fast as we shall. Let us go alone and if we need you we'll come for you."

And so it was arranged.

Presently David and Doctor Joe set forth in the frosty starlit morning. They turned their steps toward the marsh, and were near its eastern border when David stopped and sniffed the air.

"I smell smoke!" he exclaimed eagerly.

"Are you sure?" asked Doctor Joe, also sniffing. "I don't smell it."

"There's a smell o' smoke!" insisted David. "The wind's from the west'ard, and the smoke comes from over the mesh. There's a fire somewheres over there."

"Your nose is keener than mine," said Doctor Joe hopefully. "Go ahead, Davy. We'll see if you really smell smoke."

David led the way out upon the marsh, and they had gone but a short distance when Doctor Joe was quite sure that he, also, smelled smoke. David hurried on with Doctor Joe at his heels.

"There's somebody movin'!" exclaimed David presently. "See un? See un? 'Tis sure Jamie!"

Then he ran and Doctor Joe ran, and thus they came upon the frightened Jamie, standing uncertainly before his lean-to.



CHAPTER XX

"WOLVES!" YELLED ANDY

"Jamie! Jamie! We've been lookin' and lookin' for you!" shouted David, quite overcome with excitement and relief.

"I'm so glad 'tis you!" exclaimed Jamie, tears springing to his eyes as he recognized Doctor Joe and David. "I was scared!"

"Safe and sound as ever you could be, and all of us thinking you were lost under a snow-drift!" Doctor Joe in vast good humour slapped Jamie on the shoulder. "You gritty little rascal! I'll never worry about you again! Here you are as able to take care of yourself as any man on The Labrador! Come on now back to camp and we'll hear all about your adventures when you've eaten. Are you hungry?"

"Wonderful hungry!" admitted Jamie.

"Aye, we'll be makin' haste, for Andy and the lads are sore worried," said David.

In single file, Doctor Joe and David tramping the trail for Jamie, they set out for camp. An hour later they crossed the brook, and with the first glimpse of the tents heard a shout of joy, as Andy and the other lads discovered them and came running to meet them.

While Jamie satisfied an accumulated appetite he answered no end of questions. Every one was vastly excited as he related the story of his experience.

"'Tweren't Lem Horn's silver they has after all," Jamie declared. "There were nothin' in the cache but the bottles they drinks from, and they were thinkin' a wonderful lot o' them bottles."

David, in high indignation, was for setting out at once in search of the two lumbermen, but it was decided that they had doubtless already returned to the lumber camp.

"They'd probably say that they were only having sport with you, Jamie, and meant you no harm," said Doctor Joe. "The people over at their camp would believe them rather than a little Labrador lad. We may as well waste no time with them. We'll leave them alone, and be thankful that Jamie is safe and well except for the burned wrists, and they'll soon be cured."

"And we'll be havin' a fine time campin' here," agreed Jamie. "I wants to keep clear o' them men whatever."

It was a week later when they broke camp to return to The Jug, and when the visiting lads said good-bye and set sail to their homes across the Bay every one declared he had never had so good a time in all his life.

With the coming of November the boats were hauled out of the water. The shores were already crusted with ice and the temperature never rose to the thawing point even in the midday sun. The mighty Frost King had ascended his throne and was asserting his relentless power. Presently all the world would be kneeling at his feet.

Buckskin moccasins with heavy blanket duffle socks of wool took the place of sealskin boots. The dry snow would not again soften to wet them until spring. The adiky, with its fur-trimmed hood, took the place of the jacket, soon to be augmented by sealskin netseks or caribou skin kulutuks.

"The Bay's smokin'," David announced one evening as he came in after feeding the dogs. "She'll soon freeze now."

In the days that followed the smoke haze hung over the water until, one morning, the Bay was fast, and the lapping of the waves was not to be heard again for many months.

The nine sledge dogs were in fine fettle. Handsome, big fellows they were, but fearsome and treacherous enough. They looked like sleek, fat wolves, and they were, indeed, but domesticated wolves. Friendly they seemed, but they were ever ready to take advantage of the helpless and unwary, and their great white fangs were not above tearing their own master into shreds should he ever be so careless as to stumble and fall among them.

The sledge was taken out and overhauled by David. It was fourteen feet long and two and a half feet wide. Twenty cross-bars formed the top. Not a nail was used in its construction, for nails would not hold an hour on rough ice. Everything was bound with sealskin thongs. The sledge shoes were of iron. These David polished bright with sand, and then applied a coating of seal oil. Finally the harness and long sealskin traces were examined, and all was ready.

It was the end of November when the Bay froze, but there was no certainty that travelling would be safe upon the sea ice beyond Fort Pelican before the beginning of January. Therefore Doctor Joe confined his visits to the Bay folk during December, and on his first tour Andy served as driver with Jamie as passenger.

The dogs were harnessed after the Eskimo fashion. That is to say, "fan shape," and not, as is customary in Alaska and among white men of the far northwest, in tandem.

Leading from the komatik (sledge) in front was a single thong of sealskin with a loop on its end. This was called the "bridle." Each dog had an individual trace, its end passed through the loop in the bridle and securely tied. Tinker, the leading dog, was fully thirty-five feet from the komatik when his trace was stretched to its full length. He had the longest trace of all. He was trained to respond to shouted directions, turning to the right when "ouk" was called, or left for "rudder," the word being repeated several times by the driver in rapid succession. When it was desired that the dogs should stop, "ah" was the order, and when they were to go forward "ooisht," or "oksuit." The other dogs followed Tinker as a pack of wolves follows the leader. The two dogs directly behind Tinker had traces of equal length, but somewhat shorter, the pair behind them still shorter, and so on to the last pair.

A long whip was used to keep them in subjection. This was of braided walrus hide an inch thick at its butt and tapering to a thin lash. To the butt was attached a short wooden handle a foot in length, to which was fastened a loop which was hooked over the protruding end of the forward cross-bar and the whip permitted to trail upon the ice when not in use, and at the same time it was always within the driver's reach.

The boys had practised the manipulation of the whip all their lives. They could flick a square inch of ice at thirty feet with its tip. It was capable of a gentle tap, or the force of a pistol shot, at its wielder's discretion. The whip was the terror of the team, for even at his distance Tinker, the leader, could be brought to account if he failed to do his duty or obey commands.

There was little sickness in the Bay, and after patching up a lumberman at Grampus River, and providing some medicine for old Molly Budd's rheumatics, Andy and Jamie turned homeward with Doctor Joe.

Near the mouth of Grampus River there was a section of "bad ice" or ice that was not always safe to be crossed, the result doubtless of cross currents in the tide. To avoid this bad ice Andy followed the shore for a considerable distance before turning northward for the twelve-mile run directly across the Bay to The Jug.

It was a dull, cold, dreary day. The snow ground and squeaked under the sledge runners. Now and again a confusion of shore ridges rendered the hauling bad and the dogs lagged.

They were midway between Grampus River and the place where they were to make the turn northward when Jamie warned:

"Look out, Andy! There's some loose dogs comin' out of the woods! They'll be fightin' the team!"

Six big beasts, larger even than Thomas Angus's big dogs, were trotting out of the woods and upon the ice a hundred yards in advance. The team saw them, and with a howl rushed forward to the attack.

"Wolves!" yelled Andy. "They's wolves!"

The wolves were free. The dogs were bound by harness, and thus fettered were no match for the big, wild creatures. Andy's rifle was lashed upon the komatik. It was out of the question to free it in the moment before the wolves were upon them, and it was to be a hand-to-hand fight.



CHAPTER XXI

THE ALARM IN THE NIGHT

The clash came instantly. The wolf pack was upon the dogs, and dogs and wolves were at once a howling, snarling, fighting mass. Great bared fangs gleamed and snapped. It was a fight to the death, a primordial fight for the survival of the fittest.

The attack was launched with such indescribable suddenness that Doctor Joe and Jamie had scarcely time to drop from the komatik before it was begun. Andy had instinctively seized his whip and began to ply it with every opening that offered. The first stroke caught a big wolf across the eyes, and with howls of pain it immediately endeavoured to extricate itself from the fight. The lash had blinded it.

With feverish haste Doctor Joe and Jamie undid the axe and rifle from the komatik, and Doctor Joe with the axe and Jamie with the rifle charged the fighting beasts. A lucky blow from the axe split a wolf's head. Jamie quickly found that to shoot at a distance he must take the risk of killing one of the dogs, but watching for an opening, with the muzzle of the rifle within an inch of a big wolf's body, he fired and another wolf was disposed of.

In the meantime Andy had been plying the whip with such precision that the foot of one of the wolves had been torn off and another wolf so badly lacerated that as it broke temporarily away Jamie dropped it with the rifle, and then shot the blind wolf which was now roaming aimlessly about. A stroke from Doctor Joe's axe dispatched the fifth animal, and the remaining wolf, now at the mercy of the dogs, was literally torn into shreds.

Hardly five minutes had elapsed from the moment Jamie discovered the pack trotting out of the woods until the fight was ended. The attack had been made with such suddenness and such savage fierceness that Doctor Joe and the boys had scarcely uttered a word.

Now there was the tangle of dogs to be straightened out, and Andy was compelled to use his whip to drive them from the dead wolves and quiet them. Hardly one of them had escaped injury from the wolf fangs, and Dick, a faithful old fellow, was so badly mangled that Andy cut him loose from the harness to follow the komatik home at his leisure.



"Dick's too much hurt to do any hauling for a month whatever," said Andy regretfully.

"He won't die, will he?" asked Jamie sympathetically.

"He'll get over un," Andy assured.

"The dogs had grit, now!" Jamie boasted. "There's nary a team in the Bay could have fought like that!"

"And I noticed you had some grit too," said Doctor Joe. "A wolf's fangs snapped within an inch of your leg, you young rascal, when you held the rifle against that fellow you shot."

"I weren't thinkin' of that," said Jamie.

One of the pelts was so badly torn by the dogs as to be valueless. The remaining carcasses were skinned, and the skins lashed upon the sledge, and as they turned homeward Andy remarked:

"There's five good skins and they'll bring four dollars apiece whatever. 'Tweren't a bad hunt when we weren't huntin'."

"You and Jamie can take the money you get for them and start a bank account," suggested Doctor Joe. "I'll send it to St. John's and put it in a bank for you, and then you'll have that test completed for both the second and first class. There's no doubt you've earned it."

"Will you, sir? That's fine now!" exclaimed Andy. "Davy wasn't with us, and he'll have to set traps to earn his. But he'll get a marten or two, whatever."

"There's no doubt about David's catching the martens," said Doctor Joe. "If there's a marten around he'll catch it."

It was dark when they reached The Jug. Margaret and David were quite excited when they heard the story of the adventure, and mighty pleased with its ending.

"'Twere a stray pack," said David, "and they were hungry. Pop had a pack come at he that way once, but they just took one of the dogs and ran off."

A wonderful Christmas they had at The Jug that year. Doctor Joe had no end of surprises stowed away in mysterious boxes that he had brought from New York and deposited in his old cabin at Break Cove. He and David brought them over with the dogs on Christmas eve, and on Christmas morning they were opened.

The one disappointment of the day was the failure of Thomas to be with them. He had suggested at the time he departed for the Seal Lake trails in the autumn that he might come out of the wilderness for additional provisions at Christmas time, but it was a long and tedious journey, and they knew it was one he would hardly undertake unless pressed by need.

Christmas holiday week was always one of celebration at the Hudson's Bay Company's Post. At this time trappers and Indians emerged from the silent wilderness to barter their early catch of furs and to purchase fresh supplies; and on New Year's eve it was the custom of the men and women of the Bay to gather at the Post for the final festivities. All day long sledge load after sledge load of jolly folk appeared to take part in the great New Year's eve dance, and to enter into the shooting contests and snowshoe and other races on New Year's day.

Eli and Mark Horn drove their team in at The Jug just at dinner time on New Year's eve, and Eli invited Margaret to go on with them and visit Kate Hodge, the daughter of the Post servant.

"We'll be short of lasses at the dance, and we needs un all," said Eli.

"I'd like wonderful well to go," said Margaret wistfully.

"Go on," urged Doctor Joe. "You'll have a good time and the boys and I will make out famously here. You get away seldom enough and see too few people. 'Twill do you good, lass."

"Aye, come on now!" Eli urged. "We'll take you over snug and warm in our komatik box. Kate'll be wonderful glad to see you, and we'll bring you back the day after New Year."

"I'll go," Margaret consented, her eyes dancing with pleasure.

"And there'll be no prettier lass there," said Doctor Joe gallantly, which brought a blush to Margaret's cheek and caused Eli to chuckle.

Margaret hastened her toilet and was ready in a jiffy. She was all a-flutter with excitement when Eli tucked her in a box rigged on the rear of the komatik, and wrapped her snugly with caribou skins.

"You must have had it in mind to capture Margaret when you left home, Eli," Doctor Joe suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "Men don't take travelling boxes when they go alone."

Eli grinned sheepishly as he broke the komatik loose, and the dogs dashed away.

It was a dull cold day with a leaden sky, and snow was shifting restlessly over the ice. The wind was in the south-east, and as they entered the cabin David remarked:

"There'll be snow before to-morrow mornin'."

When they had eaten supper that evening and cleared the table David stepped out for a look at the weather, and returning reported:

"'Twill be a nasty night. The snow's started and the wind's risin'. 'Tis wonderful frosty, too, for a wind."

"Let's see how cold it is," said Doctor Joe, stepping out to consult his spirit thermometer. "Thirty-eight below zero. Frosty enough with a gale, and a gale's rising," he reported. "I'm glad we're all snug inside."

"Tell us a story," Jamie suggested, as they settled themselves comfortably by the fire.

"There's dogs comin'!" Andy broke in.

David ran to the door, and a moment later ushered Eli Horn into the cabin.

"What's the matter, Eli? Has anything happened?" asked Doctor Joe, immediately concerned for Margaret's safety.

"Margaret's safe," said Eli with suppressed excitement. "There's murder at the Post!"

Questions brought forth the fact that Eli and Margaret had reached the Post at about half-past three and found the people in confusion. Three lumbermen from Grampus River had come there. There had been a dispute among them and one of them was stabbed. The other two had immediately departed, presumably to return to the lumber camps. Eli did not know how seriously the man was injured. He had not seen him. It had occurred shortly before his arrival, and at Margaret's suggestion he had turned directly about and returned to The Jug to fetch Doctor Joe to attend the injured man.

"My dogs is fagged," said Eli, "and 'twere slow comin' back."

"David will take me over with his dogs. They're fresh, and will travel faster," said Doctor Joe.

In ten minutes David was ready with the dogs harnessed, and the two teams drove away into the darkness and storm.

Andy and Jamie were greatly excited. Tragedies enough happened up and down the coast when men were drowned or lost in the ice or met with fatal injuries. But never before in the Bay had one man been cut down by the hand of another. It was a ghastly thought, and the awfulness of it was perhaps accentuated by the snow dashing against the window panes and the wind shrieking around the gables of the cabin.

It was near ten o'clock, long past their usual bedtime, and they were still talking, for there was matter enough in their brains to banish sleep, when the door suddenly opened and accompanied by the howl of the wind a snow-covered figure lurched in upon them.



CHAPTER XXII

THE IMMUTABLE LAW OF GOD

"Peter! 'Tis Peter Sparks!" exclaimed Andy with vast relief to find it was not a murderous lumberman.

"I'm comin' after Doctor Joe!" gasped Peter, as half frozen he drew off his snow-caked netsek.

"Me rub your nose, Peter. She's froze, and your cheeks too," broke in Andy, vigorously rubbing Peter's whitened nose and cheeks.

Peter was silent perforce while Andy manipulated the frosted parts until circulation and colour were restored.

"Come to the fire now and warm up," directed Andy. "What you wantin' of Doctor Joe?"

"There's been murder done, or clost to un!" Peter, at last free to articulate, continued. "Murder at the lumber camp!"

"Murder!" repeated Jamie, awesomely.

"Aye, nigh to murder whatever!" Peter reiterated.

"Doctor Joe's gone to the Post," said Andy. "Eli Horn came for he. Two of the lumber folk most killed another of un over there. Davy took Doctor Joe over."

"And two of un most killed the boss at the camp," explained Peter. "They comes there from the Post about six o'clock and were packin' a flatsled with things. The boss asks un where they's goin'. They answers some way that makes he mad, and he hits one of un. Then they jumps at he and pounds and kicks he till he's like dead, and he don't come to again. The two men has rifles and they keeps all the lumbermen back, and off they goes with the flatsled, and they gets away."

"Will the boss die then?" asked Jamie in horror.

"With Doctor Joe gone he'll sure be dyin'," declared Peter desperately. "His arm is broke and he's broke somewhere inside, and his face is awful to look at, all pounded and kicked and bleedin'. Me and Lige goes up to sit a bit and hear un tell their stories, and we gets there just after the two men gets away. With Doctor Joe's teachin' we fixes the boss up the best we can, and whilst Lige stays to help look after he, I comes for Doctor Joe. Pop's to the Post with the dogs and I has to walk, and facin' the wind 'twere hard. And now Doctor Joe's gone, the poor man'll sure die!"

"You has wonderful grit to come!" said Jamie admiringly. "'Tis wonderful frosty and nasty outside."

"'Twere to save the boss's life! 'Tis the scout law," Peter asserted stoutly. "I'll be goin' to the Post now for Doctor Joe."

"You're nigh done up, Peter. You'll be stayin' here with Jamie. I'm goin' to the Post for Doctor Joe," declared Andy.

"I am most done up," Peter confessed. "But the wind'll be in your back goin' to the Post. She's just startin' though, and she'll be a wonderful sight worse than she is now before you gets there. 'Twill be terrible nasty."

"I'm goin' too," said Jamie.

"You're not goin'," said Andy. "I'm bigger and I can travel faster if you're not comin'. 'Twould be wrong to leave Peter here alone."

"I'm goin!" repeated Jamie stubbornly.

"Won't you be stayin' with me?" pleaded Peter. "I—I'm afeared to stay here alone with those two men like to come in on me."

"I'll stay," Jamie consented.

A blast of wind shook the cabin.

"I'm fearin' you can't do it, Andy! 'Twill soon be too much for flesh and blood out on the Bay!" said Peter.

"'Tis in my scout oath to do my best," said Andy, adjusting the hood of his sealskin netsek. "I'm goin', now."

Andy closed the door behind him. It was pitchy dark. The snow was driving in blinding clouds, and he stood for a moment to catch his breath. Then he felt his way down across The Jug and out upon the Bay ice. Here the full force of the north-east blizzard met him. He staggered and choked with the first blast, then in a temporary lull forged ahead.

The storm, as Peter predicted, had not reached its height. Each smothering blast of fury was stronger and fiercer than the one before it. Andy took advantage of the lulls, and save when the heavier blasts came and nearly swept him from his feet, maintained a steady trot. In the swirl of snow-clouds he could see nothing a foot from his nose. Once he found himself floundering through pressure ridges formed by the tide near shore. This he calculated was the tip of a long point jutting out into the Bay, half-way between The Jug and the Post. Ten miles of the distance was behind him. He drew farther out upon the ice.

There were times when Andy had to throw himself prone upon the ice with his face down and sheltered by his arms to escape suffocation.

"'Tis gettin' wonderful nasty," he said, "but I'll have plenty o' grit, like Jamie says, and with the Lord's help I'll pull through."

Then he found himself repeating over and over again the prayer:

"Dear Lord, help me through! 'Tis to save a life, and the scout oath! Dear Lord, help me through!"

The gale had now risen to such terrific proportions that often he was compelled to crawl upon his hands and knees. With each momentary lull he would rise and stagger forward. His legs worked at these times without conscious effort. It was strange his legs should be like that. They had never felt like that before.

And so, crawling, staggering upright, crawling again, and lying for minutes at a time with his face in his arms that he might breathe when he was well-nigh overwhelmed and suffocated, Andy kept on.

He could recall little of the last hours on the ice. It was a confused sensation of rising and falling, staggering and crawling until he collided with an obstruction, and recognizing it as the jetty at the Post, his brain roused to a degree of consciousness, and his heart leaped with joy.

With much fumbling he succeeded in donning his snow-shoes, which were slung upon his back, for the twenty yards that lay between the ice and the buildings was covered with deep drift. Once he stepped upon a dog that lay huddled and sleeping under the drift. It sprang out with a snarl and snapped at his legs. A hundred of the savage creatures were lying about in the snow.

Day comes late in Labrador. It was still pitchy dark outside when Andy, at eight o'clock in the morning, lurched into the kitchen at the Post house, and fell sprawling upon the floor. He had been battling the storm for ten hours.

David and Margaret, Eli and Mark and several others were there. Doctor Joe was at breakfast in the Factor's quarters, and they called him. Andy's face was covered with a mass of caked snow and ice. His nose and cheeks and chin were white and badly frosted, and upon removing his mittens and moccasins, his hands and feet were found to be in the same condition.

Mr. MacCreary, the factor, placed a bed at Doctor Joe's disposal, and when the frost had been removed and circulation had been restored, Andy was tucked into warm blankets.

"That chap had grit," remarked Mr. MacCreary as he and Doctor Joe left David and Margaret by the bedside and Andy asleep. "The Angus boys are all gritty fellows. They're the sort the Company needs."

"Yes," Doctor Joe agreed heartily, "and they never shirk their duty. Andy is a Boy Scout, and he did what he considered his duty. Now I must go to the lumber camp and fix up that boss, if he isn't beyond fixing up."