esistless shoulders hurled him to the floor. Virginia left her bed
and came creeping to be of such aid as was needed.

She wholly disregarded her own injury. Her own countrymen, in wars
agone, had fought all day with wounds much worse. She crept with her
pistol ready in her hands.

Bill's strong fingers were at Harold's throat by now; the man's
resistance was swiftly crushed out of him. With his knee Bill held down
one of Harold's arms; with his free arm he struck blow after blow into
his face. Then as unconsciousness descended upon him, Harold felt his
wrists being drawn back and tied.

He struggled for consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw their sardonic
faces. The worst terror of his life descended upon him.

"My god, what are you going to do to me?" he asked.

"Why, Harold, you are going to be our little truck horse," Virginia
replied gayly, as she handed Bill more thongs. "You are going to pull
the sled and show the way down into Bradleyburg."

XXXIV

When the dawn came full and bright over Clearwater, Bill and his party
were ready to start. When Harold had been thoroughly cowed and his full
instructions were given him, the thongs had been put about his ankles
and removed from his wrists, and he was permitted to do the packing.
That procedure was exceedingly simple; all available blankets were piled
on the sled and made into a bed for Virginia, and the ax, candles, and
such cooking utensils as were needed were packed in front. And then
they had a short but decisive interview with Harold.

"I won't go--I'll die first," he cried to Virginia. "Besides, you
don't dare to use force on me; you don't know the way and Bill can't
see. You know if you kill me you'll die yourself."

"Fair enough," Virginia replied sweetly. "But take this little word of
advice. Bill and I were all reconciled to dying when we thought of
you--and we don't mind it now if we're sure you are going along. Don't
get any false ideas about that point, Harold. We're not going to spare
you on any chance of saving ourselves. We are going to give you a
little more foot room, and fix up your hands a little, and then you are
going to pull the sled. When we camp at night you're going to cut the
wood. Don't think for a minute I'm going to be afraid to shoot if you
disobey one order--if you take one step against us. You are at our
mercy; we are not at yours. And Bill will tell you I can shoot
straight. Perhaps you learned t