ng, that tells moose and
caribou when danger threatens, had come to him also, and he had turned
aside, or taken another trail. And so, whatever the unknown peril was,
it had been escaped. Yet now, even though he needed it as never before,
the warning did not come. But perhaps the Spirit had gone upon a long
trail, and had not yet returned? Or perhaps it had considered the
experience of the hemlock sufficient. Whatever was the reason, nothing
warned him now as he went into the shadow of the trees.

Dusty Star's mind was filled with one thought--the wild hope that Kiopo
might have returned: but when he reached the camp the place was empty,
and everything desolate as before.

He gave a long look up and down the valley into the fast-falling night,
and his heart sank. The forest was very dark now. The hemlock was inky
black. He went to bed with a heavy heart.

He slept uneasily, waking from time to time; but it was only to hear the
solemn cry of a horned owl sitting on some dead limb, or rampike; or the
long, wailing laughter of a loon from the water-meadows to the south.

And once, far off in Carboona, he heard the hunting-call of a wolf. Even
at that remote distance he knew it was not Kiopo's deep-toned, vibrating
bellow.

He was fast asleep when the wolf-call came again. As it rang faintly
out, a shadowy form, gliding from under the hemlock, paused to listen.
When, receiving no answer, it had died away, the form moved stealthily
on.

Dusty Star woke with a start. He knew that something had disturbed him,
but could not tell what it was. He listened intently. Over the valley he
heard the notes of a pair of night-hawks swooping down from the hill;
and between the stones, the stream went with a wandering murmur. That
was all.

He lifted himself on his elbow, and looked towards the doorway. A
silvery glimmer showed that the moon had not yet set. As he looked out;
a man's shape darkened the entrance of the hut.

Dusty Star held his breath. In the absolute stillness, he could hear his
heart thump against his ribs.

The man entered the hut. Instantly Dusty Star sprang for the opening. As
he did so, he felt arms thrown round him. He struggled frantically, but,
in that strong Indian grasp, he was powerless, and the next moment he
was dragged mercilessly outside the hut.

Half-a-dozen Indians immediately surrounded him; but not a word was
spoken. While two of them held him, a third passed a deer-skin thong
round his che