nts of the last year were rushing through his mind; the refuge he
had found with the Indian; the incident of the buck fight and the tender
nurse the red man proved. He wavered. Then he saw Skookum coming back
on the trail. The dog trotted up to the boy and dropped a glove, one of
Quonab's. Undoubtedly the Indian had lost it; Skookum had found it on
the trail and mechanically brought it to the nearest of his masters.
Without that glove Quonab's hand would freeze. Rolf rose and sped along
the other's trail. Having taken the step, he found it easy to send a
long halloo, then another and another, till an answer came. In a few
minutes Rolf came up. The Indian was sitting on a log, waiting. The
glove was handed over in silence, and received with a grunt.

After a minute or two, Rolf said "Let's get on," and started on the dim
trail of the robber.

For an hour or two they strode in silence. Then their course rose as
they reached a rocky range. Among its bare, wind-swept ridges all sign
was lost, but the Indian kept on till they were over and on the other
side. A far cast in the thick, windless woods revealed the trail again,
surely the same, for the snowshoe was two fingers wider on every side,
and a hand-breadth longer than Quonab's; besides the right frame had
been broken and the binding of rawhide was faintly seen in the snow
mark. It was a mark they had seen all winter, and now it was headed as
before for the west.

When night came down, they camped in a hollow. They were used to snow
camps. In the morning they went on, but wind and snow had hidden their
tell-tale guide.

What was the next move? Rolf did not ask, but wondered.

Quonab evidently was puzzled.

At length Rolf ventured: "He surely lives by some river--that way--and
within a day's journey. This track is gone, but we may strike a fresh
one. We'll know it when we see it."

The friendly look came back to the Indian's face. "You are Nibowaka."

They had not gone half a mile before they found a fresh track--their old
acquaintance. Even Skookum showed his hostile recognition. And in a few
minutes it led them to a shanty. They slipped off their snowshoes,
and hung them in a tree. Quonab opened the door without knocking. They
entered, and in a moment were face to face with a lanky, ill-favoured
white man that all three, including Skookum, recognized as Hoag, the man
they had met at the trader's.

That worthy made a quick reach for his rifle, but Quonab covere