"He'll come if he values his life," said Harding drily. "The Indian
will take me to the village, and perhaps see me through if I offer him
enough; he seems to have some grudge against the Stonies. I'll have to
drop in upon the doctor late at night when none of his Indian friends
are about."

"But who'll look after Blake? He can't be left."

"That's your part. You'd run more risk than I would, and I'm his
partner."

"I'd hate to stay," Benson protested, and added with feeling: "You know
how I'm indebted to Blake."

"It's your place," said Harding. "Now you had better try to arrange
the thing with the Indian."

It took some time, but the man proved amenable. He frankly owned that
he would not have ventured near the Stony camp alone and hinted at some
quarrel between its inhabitants and his tribe, originating, Benson
gathered, over a dispute about trapping grounds; but he was ready to
accompany the white man, if the latter went well armed.

"That's fixed; we start at daybreak," said Harding. "I'll lie down
now; it's your watch."

Five minutes later he was sound asleep and awoke, quietly determined
and ready for the march, in the cold of dawn. He was a man of the
cities, bred to civilized life and had a just appreciation of the risks
he ran, since he meant to abduct the doctor, who was dangerous to
meddle with, from an Indian village where he was apparently held in
some esteem. The Stonies, living far remote, had, so Harding
understood, escaped the chastening influence of an occasional visit
from the patrols of the North-West Police. Moreover there was a
possibility that Clarke might prove too clever for him. It was
certainly a strange adventure for a business man, but he believed that
Blake would perish unless help was obtained. He shook hands with
Benson, who wished him a sincere "Good-luck!" and then, with the Indian
leading, struck out through the muskeg towards the shadowy hills.

CHAPTER XIII

CLARKE'S SUMMONS

Harding, who knew there was no time to lose, had cause to remember the
forced march he made to the Stony village. The light was faint and the
low ground streaked with haze as they floundered through the muskeg,
sinking deep in the softer spots and splashing through shallow pools.
When they reached the first hill bench he was hot and breathless, and
their path led sharply upwards over banks of ragged stones which had a
trick of slipping down when they trod on them. It was wor