d.

"None to spare, sir. We've only the bob-sleds, and they're not much
for a sick man to ride on. But," he added after a pause, "we were
going to fix up something to-night, sir."

"Confound it all!" Sinclair exclaimed. "What are we going to do? I
can't afford to let a double team go, and besides, it would mean a loss
of two days. Let me see. How far is it to Camp Number Three?"

"Three miles if you go by way of the cut-off, but four if you go
around. The cut-off hasn't been used much by the teams this winter,
and it is little more than a foot-path."

"How far is it to the cut-off?" Sinclair asked.

"About two miles."

"Well, look here, Stevens. You drive me to that cut-off, and then get
some one to take that sick fellow out with my rig. I'll walk the rest
of the way to the camp, and stay there till you come for me."

When the cut-off had been reached, Sinclair started off on a brisk walk
in the keen frosty air. He even felt quite young and cheerful as he
moved forward. But the trail was rough, and his coat was very heavy,
so after walking for some time he began to feel weary.

"This is a long trail," he muttered. "Confound that sick man! What
business had he getting laid up and causing all this trouble."

Hardly had the words left his mouth before his foot struck the stump of
a small tree, and with a cry of pain he sank upon the snow. Recovering
himself he tried to walk, but so great was the agony when his right
foot touched the trail that he groaned aloud.

CHAPTER XVI

CHRISTMAS EVE

Peter Sinclair was now in a serious predicament. Fortune had favoured
him so long that to be thus blocked by a mean little stump was too much
for his excitable nature. He raged and railed against everything and
everybody in general. But the tall stately trees were silent witnesses
to his passionate outbursts, and poor sympathisers. When sober
thoughts at length came to him, he began to realise the seriousness of
his position. Out of hearing of the camp, on a trail seldom travelled;
a sprained ankle; the short December day closing down, and the unknown
terrors of the lone forest. The perspiration stood out in beads upon
his forehead as he viewed the situation.

At last he started to limp along the trail, but at every step he
staggered into the snow and fell heavily forward. He tried to crawl,
but so slow was his progress and so weary did he become that this was
soon abandoned. And there he lay,