Nothing remained but to circle the shores to right and to left until the
place of egress was discovered. This meant long work and careful work,
for the lake was of considerable size. It meant that the afternoon would
go, and perhaps the day following, while the man whose footsteps they
were following would be drawing steadily away.

It was agreed that May-may-gwan should remain with the sledge, that Dick
should circle to the right, and Sam to the left, and that all three
should watch each other carefully for a signal of discovery.

But now Sam happened to glance at Mack, the wrinkle-nosed hound. The
sledge had been pulled a short distance out on the ice. Mack,
alternately whining and sniffing, was trying to induce his comrades to
turn slanting to the left.

"What's the matter with that dog?" he inquired on a sudden.

"Smells something; what's the difference? Let's get a move on us,"
replied Dick, carelessly.

"Hold on," ordered Sam.

He rapidly changed the dog-harness in order to put Mack in the lead.

"Mush! Mush on!" he commanded.

Immediately the hound, his nose low, uttered a deep, bell-like note and
struck on the diagonal across the lake.

"Come on," said Sam; "he's got it."

Across the white waste of the lake, against the bite of the unobstructed
wind, under the shelter of the bank opposite they ran at slightly
accelerated speed, then without pause into the forest on the other side.

"Look," said the older woodsman, pointing ahead to a fallen trunk. It
was the trail.

"That was handy," commented Dick, and promptly forgot about it. But Sam
treasured the incident for the future.

And then, just before two o'clock, the wind did them a great service.
Down the long, straight lines of its flight came distinctly the creak
of snow-shoes. Evidently the traveller, whoever he might be, was
retracing his steps.

At once Sam overturned the sledge, thus anchoring the dogs, and Dick ran
ahead to conceal himself. May-may-gwan offered a suggestion.

"The dogs may bark too soon," said she.

Instantly Sam was at work binding fast their jaws with buckskin thongs.
The girl assisted him. When the task was finished he ran forward to join
Dick, hidden in the bushes.

Eight months of toil focussed in the moment. The faint creaking of the
shoes came ever louder down the wind. Once it paused. Dick caught his
breath. Had the traveller discovered anything suspicious? He glanced
behind him.

"Where's the girl?" he hissed