ndwiches in his pocket and passed her one. The girl's
face was very pale.

"The tracks didn't come out of the swamp," she said.

"Forget the tracks," Glenn said gently. "It's been snowing since ten
o'clock. They were Roy's tracks all right. The snow drifted in and
covered them up. He probably headed for home hours ago."

"I--can't eat, Glenn. Let's go back. Let's try to find the tracks again.
I'm scared, Glenn. I'm so scared my teeth are chattering."

Glenn took her rifle.

"Follow me," he said abruptly. "You're all done in. I'll take the
shortest route."

The girl took half a dozen faltering steps and sank down into the snow.
When he reached her side, she was out cold. He rubbed her wrists and
cheeks until her eyes, full of tears, opened slowly.

"You're gonna be all right," he said, and picked her up in his arms.

Slowly, for he knew it was going to be a rough trail, he headed across
the valley toward home.

Earl Robinson moved more slowly now. He and Larson had swung down from
the north and crossed the three sets of tracks. Larson, puffing from his
first day of marching, came behind him. Robinson stopped finally. He
waited for Larson to catch up. He pointed at the almost covered tracks.

"Here's where they missed his trail," he said. "I think we can still
follow it if we take our time."

"Look," Larson said abruptly, "you don't believe that phantom buck
business, do you?"

Robinson didn't answer. He started away through the swamp, watching for
a broken twig here, an almost buried footprint there. It took him two
long hours to find the end of the trail. It had started to snow again.
The boy was half covered with the drift. A thick growth of cedars had
protected him from the full force of the storm. His eyes were wide open
and he showed signs of recognizing Robinson as the big man bent over
him. He tried to smile, but he couldn't. There was blood around his lips
and his jacket was torn open to reveal a deep, bloody gash in his chest.

Robinson built a fire hurriedly and Larson kept the blaze alive with dry
logs.

Robinson swore softly as he found bandages in his kit and administered
first aid. He swore at the cold, and the snow, and the thing that had
done this to the kid.

They carried Roy Starr out that night, and it was close to midnight
before they met Norm Boody and the party who had come in search of them.
Mrs. Boody had coffee on the stove when they got in. Robinson, once Roy
Starr was warm an