t the treater.

"What'll you have now, Filmer?" he asked, "maybe plain water?"

Jock's eyes grew glassy.

"No," he muttered; "make it another soda, Tate. Yes; I've got a job.
Such a thundering big one that it's going to take about all the nerve
I've got lying around loose."

"Bossing--maybe?" Tate cast a keen glance upon Filmer. Jock returned the
look. The gleam had departed from his eyes--he was Tate's master now.

"That's about the size of it," he answered. "Bossing, and it's going to
be a go, or you'll never see me again. Here's to you!"

Something of the old dash returned as Jock held his soda aloft.

"Anything happened up to Camp 7?" Tate was uneasy.

"Lord! It's further back than 7." Filmer set his glass down. "It's a new
cut--started late, but it's worth trying. So long!"

The others stared after him.

When the door had closed upon the tall, swinging figure, the company
turned upon themselves.

"Things are going to--" Tate did not designate the locality. After all,
it was needless for him to go into particulars.

An hour later Jock, sitting in his own shack before the warm fire, eyed
with satisfaction the preparations for his journey. They consisted of
certain comforts in the way of sleeping-bag, provisions, gun and a bag
of necessary clothing; and a general mass of debris, in the form of
smashed bottles and jugs. A vile smell of liquor filled the room, and
there were little streams of fluid running down any available slope
leading away from the rubbish. Jock, sitting before the fire, his long
legs stretched out and his hands clasped behind his head, eyed these
rivulets in a dazed, helpless way, while the foul odour made him half
mad with longing. His face was terrible to see, and his form was rigid.

A knock on the outer door made no impression upon him, but a second,
louder, more insistent one brought a, "Why in thunder don't you come in,
and stop your infernal racket?" from his overwrought nerves.

Drew entered. His fur coat had snow flakes on it. A coming storm had
sent its messengers.

For a moment Filmer looked at his visitor with unseeing eyes, then his
consciousness travelled back from its far place, and a soft welcome
spread over the drawn face. So glad was he to see Drew that he forgot to
be patronizing. He was weakly overjoyed.

Drew, with a keen, comprehensive glance, took in the scene and something
of what it meant. He smiled kindly, and pulled a chair up before the
hearth.

"Bee