ess for the blankets, his hand struck
something hard and cold. He picked the object up and held it to
the light of the fire. Then, with a cry, he leaned forward, and
examined it intently.

It was a bone button from Jean Fitzpatrick's fur outer garment.

That it was hers, there could be no doubt, for the reason that in
the very center was a tiny raised flag-pole and flag, the latter
enameled red--the banner of the Hudson Bay Company. The buttons
were a curiosity, and were the work of an old squaw for whom Jean
had done many little kindnesses.

How had it got here? There was but one explanation: Maria, Tom,
her full-blooded Indian son, and Jean had occupied this lonely
cabin.

"Surely it is hers," said Peter Rainy, examining the object. "But
see, Captain. It's now six days since they took her away. The trail
going from here was made day before yesterday. Why should they have
stayed here so long?"

"I don't know--I don't know!" muttered Donald, walking up and down
outside the door excitedly. "But we have no other clew; we must
follow this one. With two women they are traveling slowly. We can
overtake them."

During the night, the sky cleared, and, when McTavish woke after
several hours of troubled sleep, the stars were bright. It was four
o'clock; but he routed out his whole establishment, and in less
than an hour they were on their way, so that by daylight they had
put fifteen miles behind them.

They traveled as they had never done before, following the dim
trail before them with the speed and instinct of wild things.
Tireless, elastic, winged with snowshoes, the miles flowed under
them.

At eleven o'clock, they came upon the ruins of a camp-fire, which
had evidently been scattered that morning, and, encouraged by this,
Donald could barely stop to make tea. The afternoon was a race with
darkness. Could he have done so, he would have commanded the sullen
sun to stand still. Now, with a vicious cut at the faltering dogs,
now with a cry of encouragement to Peter Rainy, he ran on, his
shirt open at the front, his throat bare.

Hour by hour, the trail grew fresher. Now, they paused at the open
glades before crossing them. They listened for the jingle of bells
in the distance, and took their own off the harness, an act that
nearly ended their day's journey, for the dogs could scarcely be
induced to travel without this musical accompaniment. Darkness,
at last, began to settle.

Suddenly, the force of inspiration