oes, but his own and Virginia's, bringing them all back to
her side.

"What's now, Little Corporal?" he asked.

"As soon as it gets light enough for him to see, I want you to go out
the cabin door. Turn at once into the brush at your right, so he can't
shoot you with the rifle. Then come around to the side of the cabin and
re-enter through the window. You can feel your way, and I can guide you
by my voice, but you mustn't go more than a few feet or you'll get
bewildered. The moment he thinks you are gone, he'll come--not only
to get his snowshoes but to gloat over me. I know him now! I can't
understand why I didn't know him before. And then--we've got to take
him by surprise."

"And then----?"

Quickly, with few words, she told him the rest of her plot. It was
wholly simple, and at least it held a fighting chance. He was not blind
to the deadly three-day battle that they would have to wage against
starvation and cold, in case this immediate part of their plot was a
success. But the slightest chance when death was the only alternative
was worth the trial.

Very carefully and softly Bill went to work to loosen the window so that
he could take it out. It was secured by nails, but with such tools as
he had in the cabin, he soon had it free. Then he lifted out the
window, putting it back loosely so that he could remove it in a second's
time. There was no wisdom in leaving it open until morning. The bitter
cold without was waiting for just that chance.

He secured certain thongs of rawhide--left over from the moose skin
that he had used for snowshoe webs--and put them in his coat pocket.
Then he made a little bed for the girl, on the floor and against the
wall, exactly in front and opposite the doorway. It was noticeable,
too, that he restored her pistol to her hand.

"I don't think you'll need it," he told her, "but I want you to have it
anyway--in case of an emergency."

There was nothing to do thereafter but to build up the fire and wait for
dawn.

In reality, Virginia had guessed the situation just right. In the
adjoining cabin, scarcely one hundred yards away, Harold waited and
watched his chance to recover his snowshoes. He was wise enough to care
to wait for daylight. He wanted no further meeting with Bill in the
darkness. But in the light he would have every advantage; he could see
to shoot and his blind foe could not return his fire.

After all, he had only to be patient. Vengeance wo