hat fact last night."

Yes, Harold had learned. He had learned it very well.

"If I think you're trying to cheat us--to lead us out of the way
toward your breed friends--you're going to have a chance to learn it
better," she went on, never a quaver in her voice. "I won't wait to
make sure--I'll shoot you through the neck as easy and as quick as I'd
shoot a grouse. I haven't forgotten what you did last night; I'm just
eager for a chance to pay you for it." Her voice grew more sober.
"This is a warning--the only one and the last one that you will get.
I'm going to watch you every minute and tie you up at night. And the
fact that we can't go on without you won't have a jot of influence if
you take a step against us. We may die ourselves, but you know that
you'll also die."

This was not the sheltered, incapable girl of society that addressed him
now. These words were those of the woodswoman; the eyes that gazed into
his were unwavering and hard. He knew that she was speaking true. The
courage for retaliation oozed out of him as mud oozes into a river.

They lengthened the thong that tied his ankles together, giving him room
for a full walking step but not enough to leap or run. They put on his
hands a pair of awkward mittens that had been stiffened by mud and
water, and lashed them to his wrists. Then they slipped the thong of
the sled across his shoulders and under his arms like loops of a kyack.
They were ready to go.

The forest was laden with the early-morning silence; the trees stood
draped in snow. It was cold, too,--the frost gathered quickly on the
mufflers that they wore about their lips. All too well they knew what
lay before them. Without food to keep their bodies nourished and warm,
they could scarcely hope to make the town; their one chance was that
somewhere on the trail they would encounter game. How long a chance it
was, this late in winter, they knew all too surely. But for all this
knowledge Bill and Virginia were cheerful.

"I haven't much hope," Bill told her when she was tucked into the bed on
the sled. "But it's the only chance we have."

She smiled at him. "At least, Bill, we'll have done everything we
could. Good-by, little cabin--where I found happiness. Sometime
perhaps we'll come back to you!"

The man bent and kissed her, and she gave the word for Harold to start.

Slowly they headed toward the river. The crust was perfect; Harold
could hardly feel the weight of t