before, and the sound of it brought a steely glitter into
his eyes. This time he could not run away from the law. Flight meant
death. And Breault knew it. He was in a trap--a trap built by himself.
That is, if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had.
There was only one way out--and that meant fight.

He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not look
at Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him. He
left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread
out his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug a
hole through the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited for
ten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crust
of snow. With his eye close to the aperture he could see Breault. The
Ferret was sitting up, and leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping an
arm's length away. He reached over, and touched him on the shoulder.

Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears to
hear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another moment Porter
was sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his arm warningly.
Breault motioned toward the inner room, and Porter was silent. Then
Breault bent over and began to whisper. Jolly Roger could hear only the
indistinct monotone of his voice. But he could see very clearly the
change that came into Porter's face. His eyes widened, and he stared
toward the inner room, making a movement as if to rouse Tavish and the
girl.

The Ferret stopped him.

"Don't get excited. Let them sleep."

McKay heard that much--and no more. For some time after that the two
men sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an exultant
satisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in Breault's. Jolly
Roger watched them until Breault extinguished the second lamp. Then he
lightly plugged the hole in the partition with snow, and reached out in
the darkness until his hand found Peter.

"They think they've got us, boy," he whispered, "They think they've got
us!"

Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter was
wide awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his hands and
knees to the doorway and listened. One after another he picked out the
steady breathing of the sleepers. Then he began feeling his way around
the wall of his room until he came to a place where the snow was very
soft.

"An air-drift," he whispered to Peter, close