ound, just as an old and tarry sailor, from habit,
jerks his head up while passing along the street of a city, not so much
to survey the skyscrapers that tower above him, but from sheer habit of
glancing aloft at the shivering sails of the old hooker upon which he
labors twenty hours of the day.

He found that the sky was covered with clouds, and there was beginning
to be quite some wind--indeed, it may have been a corner of the tent
which was whipping monotonously in each rising gust that had aroused
him.

Anyhow, he bent down and secured the flapping end, so that it would not
awaken the others with its antics, after which he took another survey of
the situation and again crawled under cover, convinced that by the dawn
they might anticipate a storm of some kind.

It was a bit pleasant to know that they were now in such a decent sort
of shelter and could keep quite dry, no matter how the rain came down,
and if it so happened that the first real touch of winter was sprung
upon them, why surely it would not be hard to keep cozy, with plenty of
wood to burn and a storehouse so close at hand, from which any amount of
provisions could be obtained, since he possessed the "open sesame" in
the way of cash.

He thought he heard Owen move as he crawled back into the tent again,
but was not quite positive, and he did not want to arouse both of the
others, in case they were asleep, by asking questions.

The last he remembered after that for some time was of lying there and
listening to the increasing moan of the wind among the tops of the great
hemlocks that stood close by the corner of the stockade; it seemed after
a time like a lullaby soothing him to sleep, for Cuthbert was too old a
hand at this sort of game to allow himself to grow nervous over the
coming of a little whirl, such as this no doubt would prove to be.

Then he lost consciousness and slept heavily, unmindful of the wind,
the mournful hoot of a great northern owl in the dead tree nearby, or
even the howls of big gray timber wolves grown bold with the nearness of
winter.

CHAPTER XXI

AT DEAD OF NIGHT.

Some one, violently shaking him, brought Cuthbert once more to his
senses, and he aroused to the fact that it was Eli, who kept shouting in
his ear:

"Wake up--wake up, there's the dickens to pay--pile out and help, old
man--they need us bad--get up, I say, get up!"

That was certainly quite sufficient to thoroughly arouse any one, no
matter if