ished summer that Cabot declared his intention of spending an
hour or so at the lookout. "There might be such a thing as a belated
vessel," he argued, "and I might have the luck to signal it. Anyhow, I
am going to make one more try before agreeing to settle down here for
the winter."

As White was busy moving the galley stove into the cabin, and making
other preparations for their coming struggle against Arctic cold, Cabot
rowed himself ashore and left the dinghy on the beach. Then he climbed
to the summit of the lofty headland, where, for a long time, he leaned
thoughtfully on the rude Alpine-stock that had aided his steps, and
gazed out over the vacant ocean.

While Cabot thus watched for ships that failed to come, White was
putting the finishing touches to his new cabin fixtures. He was just
beginning to wonder if it were not time for his comrade's return when
he felt the slight jar of some floating object striking against the
side of the schooner. Thinking that Cabot had arrived, he shouted a
cheery greeting, but turned to survey the general effect of what he had
done before going on deck. The next minute some one softly entered the
cabin and sprang upon the unsuspecting youth, overpowering him and
flinging him to the floor before he had a chance to offer resistance.
Here he was securely bound and left to make what he could of the
situation, while his captors swarmed through the schooner with
exclamations of delight at the richness of their prize.

As White slowly recovered from the bewilderment of his situation he saw
that his assailants were Indians, and even recognised in one of them
the hideous features of the lad whom Cabot had named Arsenic.

"What fools we have been," he thought, bitterly. "We might have known
that he would come back with the first band of his friends that he ran
across. And to make sure that they would find us we filled the country
with sign posts all pointing this way. Seems to me that was about as
idiotic a thing as we could have done, and if ever a misfortune was
deserved this one is. I wonder what has become of Cabot, and if they
have caught him yet. I only hope he won't try to fight 'em, for they'd
just as soon kill him as not. Probably they'll kill us both, though,
so that no witnesses can ever appear against them. Poor chap! It was
a sad day for him when he attempted to help a fellow as unlucky as I am
out of his troubles. Now I wonder what's up."

A shrill cry of