judged that the
lost claim lay somewhere along its course, but he had washed it from its
mother springs clear to its mouth, finding scarcely the faintest traces
in the pan. Because he had made such a tireless search in this
particular section in previous years he had completely avoided it in the
present adventure. Even on his pleasure trips with Virginia he had
never forgotten his search: thus he had led her into more favorable
regions where he might reasonably keep his eyes over for clews. Now
that he had given up finding the claim--for this season, at least, and
perhaps forever--one way was as good as another. And he remembered
that an old caribou trail lay just beyond the stream on the steep
hillside.

Bill led the way, mushing quietly an swiftly, and Virginia sped after
him. The cold had brought a high color to her cheeks and a luster to
her eyes; her nerves and muscles tingled with life. She was in
wonderful spirits. Never she took a hundred paces without experiencing
some sort of a little, heart-gladdening adventure.

Every manifestation of the forest life about her filled her with
delight. The beauty of the winter woods, the absorbing record that the
wild creatures had left in the snow, the long sweep of range and valley
that she could glimpse from a still hilltop, all had their joy for her.
With Bill she found something to delight her, something to make her
laugh and quicken her blood, in every hundred yards of their course.
Sometimes when the snow record was obscure, Bill stopped and explained,
usually with a graphic story and unconscious humor that made the woods
tingle and ring with her joyous, rippling laughter. More than often,
however, she was able to piece our the mystery by herself.

Bill had a long and highly fanciful conversation with a little,
black-tailed ermine that tried to run under his feet; he imitated--to
Virginia's delight, the spectacle of a large and stiff cow moose pulling
herself through the mud; he repeated for her the demented cries of the
loons that they had sometimes heard from the still waters of Gray Lake.
But he didn't forget that the main purpose of their expedition was to
hunt. When at last they reached the caribou range he commanded silence.

Harold, silent in the others' gayety, immediately evinced a decided
inclination to talk. He had not particularly enjoyed the excursion so
far. In the first place he had no love either for the winter forest or
the creatures t