the groove.
"That's been made by the butt of a trailing log. The Indian said there
were bluffs near the post, and they wouldn't haul their cordwood
farther than necessary!"

They stood silent for a few moments, overcome by relief. They had a
guide to shelter and safety! When they had gathered breath, Blake
steadied Harding, who found standing difficult.

"We must make a move and hustle all we can," he said eagerly. "It will
be dark in half an hour, and the snow won't take long in filling up the
trail."

The risk of missing the factory, which might be near at hand, was not
to be faced, and they pulled themselves together for a last effort,
Blake and Benson, breathing hard as they dragged Harding along. The
light was rapidly going; now that they had changed their course the
snow lashed their faces, making it difficult to see, and they plodded
forward with lowered heads and eyes fixed on the guiding-line. It grew
faint in places, and vanished altogether after a while. Then they
stopped in dismay, and Blake went down on his knees, scraping with
ragged mittens in the snow.

"I can't see which way it runs, but it certainly doesn't end here," he
said. "Go ahead and look for it, Benson; but don't get out of call!"

Benson moved forward, and when he faded into the cloud of driving
flakes those he left behind were conscious of a keen uneasiness. They
could see only a few yards; it was blowing fresh and the wind might
carry their voices away, and if this happened the chances were against
their comrade's being able to rejoin them. After a few minutes Blake
shouted, and the answer was reassuring. They waited a little longer,
and then when they cried out a hail came back very faintly:

"Nothing yet!"

"Keep closer!" Blake shouted; but it seemed that Benson did not hear
him, for there was no reply.

"Hadn't you better go after him?" Harding suggested.

"No!" Blake snapped. "It would make things worse to scatter." He
raised his voice. "Come back, before your tracks fill up!"

The silence that followed filled them with alarm; but while they
listened in strained suspense a faint call came out of the snow. The
words were indistinguishable, but the voice had an exultant note in it.

"He has found the trail!" Blake exclaimed with deep relief.

It was difficult to see the print of Benson's shoes, and Harding could
not move a step alone, but they called out at intervals as Blake slowly
helped him along, and at l