h he had lost, but looking right
forwards and upwards, steadily, calmly, as if sure that something would
appear.

Trenholme laid a strong hand upon his arm. "Cameron!" he shouted, to see
if that name would rouse him. The arm that he grasped felt like a rock
for strength and stillness. The name which he shouted more than once did
not seem to enter the ears of the man who had perhaps owned it in the
past. He shook off Trenholme's hand gently without turning towards him.

"Ay," he said. (His voice was strong.) Then he shook his head with a
patient sigh. "Not here," he said, "not here." He spoke as deaf men
speak, unconscious of the key of their own voice. Then he turned
shuffling round the table again, and seemed to be seeking for the door.

"Look here," said Trenholme, "don't go out." Again he put his hand
strongly on his visitor, and again he was quietly brushed aside. The
outside seemed so terribly cold and dark and desolate for this poor old
man to wander in, that Trenholme was sorry he should go. Yet go he did,
opening the door and shutting it behind him.

Trenholme's greatcoat, cap, and snow-shoes were hanging against the
wall. He put them on quickly. When he got out the old man was fumbling
for something outside, and Trenholme experienced a distinct feeling of
surprise when he saw him slip his feet into an old pair of snow-shoes
and go forth on them. The old snow-shoes had only toe-straps and no
other strings, and the feat of walking securely upon seemed almost as
difficult to the young Englishman as walking on the sea of frozen atoms
without them; but still, the fact that the visitor wore them made him
seem more companionable.

Trenholme supposed that the traveller was seeking some dwelling-place,
and that he would naturally turn either up the road to Turrifs or toward
the hills; instead of that, he made again for the birch wood, walking
fast with strong, elastic stride. Trenholme followed him, and they went
across acres of billowy snow.

CHAPTER II.

Why Alec Trenholme followed the old man toward the wood he himself would
have found it a little difficult to tell. If this was really Cameron he
did not wish that he should escape; but, at the same time, he saw no
means of keeping him against his will, unless he went of his own accord
to some place where other men could be called to help. Quite apart,
however, from the question whether the stranger was Cameron or not,
Trenholme felt for him a sort of r