wide
freedom its fierce territory afforded. The moods of the country
concerned him not at all. Furious or gentle, tearful or hard with the
bitterness of desperate winter, it was all one to him. He loved the
twilight of its mysterious, fickle heart. It was as much his home as any
place on earth.

The dogs swept on at a steady gait. The cruel whip played over furry
backs, a never-ceasing threat. And so the miles were hungrily devoured.
It was the first day of freedom for dogs and man alike, and each moment
of it yielded a sense of almost fierce joy.

The bluffs narrowed in, and the softer snow slowed the going. Instantly
a sharp command hurled the leading dog heading for the open where the
surface was hard and dry. The team swung away behind him and the sled
pursued. Then the silence broke.

A shot rang out. It came from the shelter of a bluff directly ahead. The
leading dog floundered. Then the brute fell with a fierce yelp, and
sprawled in the snow while the others swept over his inert body. The man
in the sled strove to brake the sled with the "gee-pole" which he
snatched to his aid. There was a moment of desperate struggle. Then the
sled flung tail up in the air and the man was hurled headlong amidst his
dogs.

* * * * *

Father Adam stood with mitted hands thrust up above his head. He was
gazing into the smiling eyes of a man no less dark than himself. There
were three others confronting him, and each was armed with a stubby,
automatic pistol which covered his body.

"Guess Hellbeam's waiting for you over the other side, Mr. Leslie
Martin, or Standing, or Father Adam, as you choose to call yourself.
He's waited a long time. But you ain't tired him out. Guess your game's
up."

"Oh, yes?"

The missionary smiled back into Idepski's derisive eyes.

"You can drop your hands," the agent went on. "We've got your gun. And I
guess you'll be kind of tired before we get you to the coast. You're
going to find things a heap tougher than No. 10 Camp--where you sent me.
You surely are."

"The coast?"

The missionary was startled.

"Yep. There's going to be no play game this time. Hellbeam's yacht's
waiting on you. You'll take the sea trip. It's safer that way."

"Yes."

The mitted hands had dropped to the missionary's sides. He moistened his
lips, which seemed to have become curiously dry. Once, and once only,
there was a flicker of the eyes as he looked into the face of his
capto