tin with Prince
Rupert's Company, had once stood there; it was said that some of the
crosses which fringed the trail marked spots where its defenders lay
buried. However, it was not the memory of the past, but the knowledge
of what might now await him, which caused him to hesitate.

On the river's bank, where the portage commenced, was a cleared space,
from which a path led round the cabin and tunnelled into the forest.
As he eased his sled out of the river-bed, he caught the smell of
burning, and, when he had topped the bank, he saw the glow of an
almost extinguished fire. The overhanging trees, casting their network
of shadows across the snow, prevented him from distinguishing at that
distance any object that lay beneath them. While he halted, half
inclined to wait till daybreak before proceeding further with his
investigation, he was startled by the sound of footsteps. They came
toward him very cautiously and there were many of them. He saw the
glint of eyes in the darkness, shining out and disappearing among the
crosses. He tried to count them; as far as he could make out there
were six pairs. Then he called them softly by name, and there came
toward him Spurling's four grey huskies and the two of his own team,
which had been taken.

And still he clung desperately to his hope and would not allow himself
to believe that in the shadow of the trees, a dozen yards from where
he was standing, the man whom he had set out to kill was lying
murdered. He whispered his name, not daring to speak louder. When no
answer was returned, he rallied his retreating faith by saying, "He is
sleeping. I must approach him gently. If he awakes and hears me, he
may think I am his enemy and escape me."

Leaving his dogs, he stole toward the sparks of fire. Although he
still denied the mirage, telling himself that what he had seen was
fancied, he directed his steps by that which he had witnessed in the
sky.

Drawing nearer, he made out the smouldering log; cowardice prompted
him to procrastinate, he crept round behind it. The air was heavy with
the smell of scorching leather. His eyes growing more accustomed to
the shadow, he saw the figure of a man, lying on the snow with his
arms stretched out in the shape of a cross and his moccasined feet
protruding above the glowing ashes. The last vestige of hope left him;
he knew that Spurling was dead. With certainty, his power of decision
returned; he still had a purpose to live for--to avenge t