soon as he crossed the shoulder of the
hill on his home-coming the third morning. To tell the truth, it was
her first experience of being quite alone in the forest, and she had
been doing but little "furnishing" after the first night. Now she was
sure he had made a fine haul, and hurried out to meet him and hear the
news. Malcolm, with the canniness of his kind, at once told her he had
had no luck.

Now the actual amount of money lost may not have been great, but it
had the irritating feature of being an unknown quantity and the
additional vague risk of making all his winter work fruitless. It is
useless to set traps if some one else is to follow around and rob
them. So that night he told his wife the whole story. Discuss it as
they would, there was no clue of any kind to follow; so like wise folk
they decided to go on their way as if nothing had happened, keeping
their mouths shut and their eyes and ears open.

No one visited their bay before Malcolm went on his first long fur
round, which he did earlier than was his wont in order to be back in
time for the first of the two winter mails. This trip he made a much
better hunt, setting his traps as he went into the country. He took
good care to make long marches, and even one day to double back on his
tracks, making a long detour to see if he might not possibly pick up
some unexpected signs of another man on _his_ path. His, because,
although there is no law on the subject, custom is law on Labrador,
and the man who first finds a new trail for trapping has a conceded
right of at least a mile in width for just as far as he cares to go.

The whole round was made in ten days, and, coming back with six
sables, two otter, and a few mink and ermine, he was fortunate enough
to reach home some hours before the southern mail team.

"What's t' news, Pat?" he asked, when at last supper was over, and
the final pipe was being discussed by the fire.

"Nothing to boast of," was the answer. "T' same old story, with some a
feast and with some a famine. They do say Roderick Norman's luck seems
to have turned at last. T' Company gave he over four hundred dollars
for a dark silver he got, and as much more, some say, for a batch o'
reds and patches. 'T is more than good luck that half-breed must have
had, for he hasn't had a dozen traps to his name this five years."

Before he had finished speaking, Malcolm was watching him narrowly,
wondering if some sprite had whispered abroad the ro