quare
opening, and landed easily on the heaped snow.

With nimble fingers, the snowshoes were quickly strapped on, when
an idea occurred to him. He groped on the ground until he found
the window.

This he lifted up and inserted in the frame, driving it home with
a few sharp blows. Then, he bent the iron bars back down until each
fitted nicely over its stump. Whimsically, he imagined old Michael's
amazement and superstitious fear when he should find the animal
gone, but the trap itself still unsprung.

But what was that? Where did that light come from? McTavish was
just bending the last bar into place when he saw the glow on the
snow about him, and looked up in terror. There, in the room, with
lamp held high and terror on his face, stood the old Indian, gazing
on the undisturbed bed. Even as Donald looked, Michael, the instinct
of the hunter still strong in him, leaped toward the window, the
only possible means of escape.

With a curse the fugitive shrank back, then sprang into the storm
as fast as he could struggle against it. But so strong was the wind
that he could scarcely move, and all the while he could feel the
Indian's eyes striving to pierce through the snow curtain to him.

And then, five minutes later, came the sound of a bell being
violently tolled, and he knew that Michael had given the alarm.

That night of terrible storm the few men still left in the fort
dreamed of battle and murder and Indian attacks, as they had been
in the old days; fires were heaped high, and frightened children
were quieted. What then was the chill that gripped them by the
heart when above the howling of the blast the old warning tocsin
broke out! Hands clutched at guns and clothing, and the women and
children ran to the windows, sick for fear lest the fort be afire.

But there was no glow brightening and growing lurid through the
snow curtain. Commanding their dependents to light lamps and dress,
the men made all speed to the vestibule of the old soldiers'
quarters, where McTavish had been confined, on top of which the
bell whirled over and over, its unaccustomed voice thin and shrill
with cold. It was twenty years since that bell had sounded a general
alarm, and the men, wild with anxiety, rushed in upon Michael.

Meanwhile, McTavish was experiencing a fearful trial. During the
day, his plans of campaign had been worked out thoroughly and had
appeared simple. But, now, confused, battered, whirled ruthlessly
about, a play