in on Brodie's camp, if
only from a distance. As matters stood now there was no telling what
bearing Gratton's and Brodie's actions might have later upon his own
affairs. It would be well to note if the men were preparing to fight the
storm out or to pack up and leave rather than take prolonged chances
with the season. So, a mile below his own camp, he slipped into a grove
of firs and made his unseen way toward the fringe whence he counted upon
seeing what they were about. He was still moving on slowly and had had
no glimpse of the men when he heard them. He stopped abruptly and
listened.

They were down there, against the canon wall. Words came to him
indistinctly, muffled by the thick air. The tones of the voices were
unmistakable. Three voices there were, each with its own peculiarity,
none of them Gratton's. First a big, booming voice; then a sharp,
staccato-quick voice; thereafter a high-pitched, querulous utterance,
nervous and irritable. Disagreement, if not out-and-out quarrel, had
already come to camp. King moved a few paces nearer, pushed aside a low
branch from which the snow dropped with little thuds, and saw the men.

There were four of them in an excited group, and slightly drawn apart,
one hand at his mouth, was Gratton. The four paid no attention to him,
but formed a group exclusively self-centred. Of these four one now held
his own counsel, his attitude alert, his hands in his pockets, his head
turning swiftly, so that his eyes were now on one speaker, now on
another. Across the brief distance King could see the puffs of smoke
from the pipe in his teeth. The man wore a red handkerchief knotted
about his throat; its colour was as bright as fresh-spilled blood. Swen
Brodie.

Now and then as a voice was lifted King caught a word; repeated several
times he heard the word "bacon." Here, doubtless, was the matter under
discussion. One man, he of the thin, querulous voice swung his nervous
arm widely and fairly shrieked his message; it came in little puffs and
was lost between. King heard him shout "bacon" and "snow" and "hell."
The three expressions, so oddly connected and yet disjointed, were
significant.

Gratton stood apart and gnawed at his hand; though he could not see the
prominent eyes, King could imagine the look in them. Swen Brodie puffed
regularly at his pipe and watched and listened intently.

Abruptly the wrangling knot of men resolved itself into two definite
factions. His fellows had turn