n. He rode a fine
black horse as bravely accoutred as would become the captain of a
round-up.

He seemed disposed to be friendly; and Garth invited him to share their
meal. As politeness demanded, he broke a small piece of bread, and drank
some cocoa, which was plainly not at all to his taste. When he sat down
he had the grace to take off his hat, something else they had not seen
before in a native.

His name, he volunteered, was Gene Lafabe. Since his English was about
on a par with Garth's Cree, communication was difficult. In his
simplicity, the young man was continually forgetting they could not
understand his language; and when Garth shook his head, only shouted the
louder.

"You know Herbert Mabyn?" Garth asked.

Gene vigorously nodded his head, adding a stream of information, which,
had they only understood, would have materially altered their subsequent
line of action.

Garth shook his head hopelessly. "Where is he?" he asked.

Gene pointed north. "Clearwater Lake," he said; and in the twinkling of
an eye, counted seventy-five with his ten fingers.

"Where is the trail?" Garth asked.

Gene shrugged. "Nomoya!" he said. "No trail!"

Garth had an inspiration. "Can you take us there?" he asked.

Considerable patience and good-humour were called for from both sides,
in the arduous course of arriving at an understanding; but finally a
bargain was struck. Gene, in addition to the credentials of his person,
bore a highly satisfactory letter of recommendation from the company
trader at the Crossing. Whatever his errand in the first place may have
been, he never gave it another thought; and in half an hour blithely
turned his horse's head, and took the lead on the trail.

Gene looked at every considerable tree, every little gulley, and every
rise in the ground with the eye of an old friend. In a mile or so, at a
place marked in no way that Garth could see, he abruptly turned out of
the trail; and led them with an air of certainty through the apparently
trackless woods. The trees ended at the steep rise that marked the
bottom of the northern bank; and thereafter they climbed the grass.

By a devious route known to himself Gene led them through many little
grassy ravines, and over ridges, gradually upward. There was no sense or
order in the arrangement of the knolls and terraces and spurs of
turf--the ground seemed to be pushed up anyhow, like bubbles on the
surface of yeasty dough. For a while they would be