st."

He held the frayed end of a broken trace in his hand. The trouble was
quite evident.

"What can we do?" asked the Bishop. "Have you any rope?"

"No. Dat's how I been one big fool, me. I lef' new rope on de sled
las' night on Lowville. Dis morning she's gone. Some t'ief."

"We must get on somehow," said the Bishop, as he unbuckled part of the
lashing from his bag and handed the strap to Arsene. "That will hold
until we get to the first house where we can get the loan of a trace.
We can walk behind. We're both stiff and cold. It will do us good. Is
it far?"

"Dat's Long Tom Lansing in de hemlocks, 'bout quarter mile, maybe."
The little man looked up from his work long enough to point out a
clump of hemlocks that stood out black and sharp against the white
world around them. As the Bishop looked, a light peeped out from among
the trees, showing where life and a home fought their battle against
the desolation of the hills.

"I donno," said Arsene speculatively, as he and the Bishop took up
their tramp behind the sled; "Dat Long Tom Lansing; he don' like
Canuck. Maybe he don' lend no harness, I donno."

"Oh, yes; he will surely," answered the Bishop easily. "Nobody would
refuse a bit of harness in a case like this."

It was full dark when they came to where Tom Lansing's cabin hid
itself among the hemlocks. Arsene did not dare trust his team off the
road where they had footing, so the Bishop floundered his way through
the heavy snow to find the cabin door.

It was a rude, heavy cabin, roughly hewn out of the hemlocks that had
stood around it and belonged to a generation already past. But it was
still serviceable and tight, and it was a home.

The Bishop halloed and knocked, but there was no response from within.
It was strange. For there was every sign of life about the place.
After knocking a second time without result, he lifted the heavy
wooden latch and pushed quietly into the cabin.

A great fire blazed in the fireplace directly opposite the door. On
the hearth stood a big black and white shepherd dog. The dog gave not
the slightest heed to the intruder. He stood rigid, his four legs
planted squarely under him, his whole body quivering with fear. His
nose was pointed upward as though ready for the howl to which he dared
not give voice. His great brown eyes rolled in an ecstasy of fright
but seemed unable to tear themselves from the side of the room where
he was looking.

Along the side of the room