ath. Porter's friendliness was almost
brotherly. He explained what had happened. Two rascally Chippewyans had
deserted them, stealing off into darkness and storm with both dog teams
and one of their sledges. After that they had fought on, seeking for a
drift into which they might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth
as a table. They had shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed--not because
they expected to find assistance--but on account of Tavish falling in
the storm, and losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter thought,
that Superintendent Tavish, one of the iron men of the service, should
have given up the ghost so easily.

Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with the
possible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. Yet
Jolly Roger noted that each time he spoke the others were specially
attentive. There was something repressive and mysterious about the man,
and the girl would cut herself short in the middle of a laugh if he
happened to speak, and the softness of her mouth would harden in an
instant. He understood the significance of her gladness, and of
Porter's, for twice he saw their hands come together, and their fingers
entwine. And in their eyes was something which they could not hide when
they looked at each other. But Breault puzzled him. He did not know
that Breault was the best man-hunter in "N" Division, which reached
from Athabasca Landing to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two
thousand-mile stretch of the Three River Country he was known as
_Shingoos_, the Ferret.

The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father's
shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and
breathed deeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and looked wistfully at
the pale face of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a bit proudly at McKay.

"She's mine," he whispered. "We're going to be married."

Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand.

He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat.

"I know how you feel," he said. "When I heard her calling out there--it
made me think--of a girl down south."

"Down south?" queried Porter. "Why down south--if you care for her--and
you up here?"

McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he nor
Porter knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he was
listening.

Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the storm
had caught his attention.

"We'll have two