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Stane answered the hail, and a few minutes later when the man halted his dogs he saw that he was mistaken in concluding the new-comer was the owner of the cabin, for he was garbed in the winter dress of the Nor-west Mounted Police. "Cheero," said the policeman in greeting. "Where's Jean Bènard?" Stane shook his head. "Don't know. Is Jean Bènard the owner of the cabin?"

Then they struck the trail made by their quarry and the work became less arduous and the pace quickened. "By gar!" cried Bènard as they hit the trail, "we get dem now, dey make zee trail for us." "Yes," answered Stane, his eyes ablaze with excitement.

It was bleak and barren, and precipitous in places, where the hills seemed to rise directly from the lake's edge. Nothing moved there, and a single glance told him that the land trail on that side was an impossibility. He looked at his companion. "Dey haf not yet arrive," said Bènard, answering his unspoken question. "Dey camp in zee woods for zee night." "If Chief George lied "

But right in the nick of time, when I was expecting to die, the owner of our cabin, Jean Bènard came back. He saved my life; but as he knew nothing about you, the attackers got away with you, but as soon as he heard my story he got ready to pursue, and having found out that your kidnappers were making for the Little Moose we took a short cut and waited for you.

The trapper's face was hidden in his mittened hands. For a moment Stane hesitated, then he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Jean Bènard," he said quietly, "there is work to do." Bènard rose slowly to his feet, and in the little light reflected from the snow Stane read the grief of the man's heart in his face. "Oui! m'sieu! We must her bury; ma petite Miskodeed." "That, yes!

That Benard and Madame Joseph were not bad-hearted in reality was shown by the fact that although Euphrasie was now but an useless encumbrance, they kept her with them, instead of flinging her into the streets as others would have done.

Jean Bènard found it deep in the wood where we were searching, knowing the lake was impossible for any one to travel in the storm, and after he had made the discovery, Anderton and I started to track you." "And where is Jean Bènard?" asked Helen quickly. "I want to thank him for saving you, for bringing joy back to me when I thought that it was dead for ever."

Bènard looked at Stane. "Dere ees nothing more dat he can tell. I sure of dat, an' we waste time." "Yes! Let him go." The trapper nodded and then addressed the Indian once more. "Thou wilt go back to thy lodge now, but this is not the end. For the evil that hath been done the price will have to be paid. Later the men of the law, the riders-of-the-plains, will come and thee they will take "

Stane nodded and turned away, and after a little more walking to and fro, Helen sought the tent, whilst Stane, after a word or two with Anderton and Jean Bènard, rolled himself in his sleeping furs, though with little hope of sleep. He lay awake some time and frequently opened his eyes to see Ainley still bent over his pocket-book, but presently drowsiness came over him.

Every time they so turned, when the lake came in sight again, Stane looked down its length with expectation in his eyes, and every time he was disappointed. An hour passed and still they watched without any sign of their quarry to cheer them. Then Jean Bènard spoke. "We tire ourselves for noding, m'sieu. We walk, walk, walk togeder, an' when Chigmok come we too tired to follow heem.