ave arrived, and he was anxiously wondering if there were any
for him. Then, as he stopped for breath, a dim moving blur grew out of
the prairie, and he flung down his ax.

"Here's West; we'll have light enough to put up the load," he said.

A little later Edgar led two powerful horses up the narrow trail, and
for a while the men worked hard, stacking the logs upon the sledge.
Then they set off at the best pace the team could make, and the cold
struck through them when they left the bluff.

"Stinging, isn't it?" Edgar remarked. "I couldn't get over earlier;
Flett turned up, half frozen, and he kept me. Seems to have some
business in this neighborhood, though he didn't say what it is."

George, walking through the snow to leeward of the loaded sledge, where
it was a little warmer, betrayed no interest in the news. Temperance
reform was languishing at Sage Butte and its leaders had received a
severe rebuff from the authorities. The police, who had arrested an
Indian suspected of conveying liquor to the reservation, had been no
more successful, for the man had been promptly acquitted. They had
afterward been kept busy investigating the matter of the shooting of
George's bull, which had recovered; but they had found no clue to the
offender, and nothing of importance had happened for some time.

It had grown dark and the wind was rapidly increasing. Powdery snow
drove along before it, obscuring the men's sight and lashing their
tingling faces. At times the icy white haze whirled about them so
thick that they could scarcely see the blurred dark shape of the
sledge, but as they had hauled a good many loads of stovewood home, the
trail was plainly marked. It would be difficult to lose it unless deep
snow fell. With lowered heads and fur caps pulled well down, they
plodded on, until at length George stopped where the shadowy mass of a
bluff loomed up close in front of them.

"I'll leave you here and make for the shack," he said. "I want to see
if there are any letters."

"It's far too risky," Edgar pointed out. "You'll get lost as soon as
you leave the beaten trail."

"I'll have the bluff for a guide, and it isn't far from the end of it
to the small ravine. After that I shouldn't have much trouble in
striking the fallow."

"It's doubtful," Edgar persisted. "Let the letters wait until
to-morrow."

"No," said George, resolutely. "I've waited a week already; the mail
is late. Besides, we'll have worse sn