upon the earthen floor. At the same time, as though utterly helpless, he
rolled off his seat and fell to the ground, snoring heavily. Pierre
shouted his delight. Only Victor and he were left. They knew how to take
their liquor, the old hands. His pride of achievement was great. He
would see Victor under the table, too, he told himself. He stood over
the trader while the latter drank a bumper. Then he, himself, drank to
the dregs. It was the last straw. He swayed and lurched to the outer
door. There he stood for a moment, then the cold night air did for him
what the rum had been powerless to do. Without warning he fell in a heap
upon the doorstep as unconscious as though he had been struck dead.

Victor alone kept his head.

The trader rose from his seat and stretched himself. Then, stealthily,
he went the round of the prostrate men. He shook Ambrose, but could not
wake him. Jean he stood over for awhile and silently watched the stern
face. There was not a shade of consciousness in its expression. He bent
down and touched him. Still no movement. He shook him gently, then more
roughly. He was like a log. Victor grinned with a fiendish leer.

"Guess he's fixed," he muttered.

Then he went out into the store and came to the door where old Pierre
had fallen. The Frenchman was no better than the others.

"Good! By Gar, Jean, my friend, I've done you," he said to himself, as,
reassured, he went back to the inner room. He was none too steady
himself, but he had all his wits about him. The chest was near the bed.
He picked it up and opened it. The treasure was there safe enough. He
closed the lid and took it up in his arms, and passed out of the store.
Nor did he look back. He was anxious to be gone.

It was the chance of his lifetime, he told himself, as he hastened to
deposit the chest in the sled. Now he set about obtaining his blankets
and provisions. His journey would be an arduous one, and nobody knew
better than he the barrenness of that Northwestern land while the icy
grip of winter still clings. A large quantity of the food stuffs which
had only arrived that day was returned to the sled, and some of the new
blankets. Then he shipped a rifle and ammunition.

Now was the trader to be seen in his true light. Here was emergency,
when all veneer fell from him as the green coat of summer falls from the
trees at the first breath of winter. His haste was not the swift
movements of a man whose nerve is steady. He knew th