being drowned. He would secure provisions, and meet Rainy on
the edge of the camp at night. He specified where.

Both knew that to get the Indian off unknown and unseen on his long
journey would be a desperately difficult thing to do, particularly
as the young man would be watched; but, as the need was great,
so was the determination, and Donald started for the camp with
a light heart.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN NEW CLUTCHES

Four hundred and fifty miles southwest of Sturgeon Lake, as the
hawk flies, is Winnipeg--formerly the Fort Carry of Hudson Bay
fame, and before that the Fort Douglas of battle, murder, and sudden
death. As Peter Rainy expected to make the journey, the distance
was nearer seven hundred miles. From Sturgeon Lake, he would strike
east to the north branch of the Sachigo, and follow that down to
its junction with the main river. Then, turning south, for two
hundred miles, his would be a straight course up the Sachigo and
through a chain of lakes that almost would carry him to Sandy Lake.
Southwest, he would rush through Favorable Lake, Deer Lake, Little
Trout, and unimportant waterways, until he reached Fort Alexander
on a thumb of Lake Winnipeg (that three-hundred-mile terror).
Discounting blizzards, he could make seventy-five miles a day down
that fine waterway to the mouth of the Red River, and, from there,
thirty-five miles would land him in the thriving capital of Manitoba.

Such was the course that McTavish pricked for him on a map, and
the old Indian studied it all that day, until it was a part of the
vast lore that lay behind his expressionless eyes.

Night fell, and a pure moon rose out of the east, spreading a flood
of light over snow-fields and through forest aisles. Peter Rainy
cursed heartily at the misfortune, and, as if the sky spirits were
afraid of him, a great mass of solemn clouds bulked out of the
northwest, and extinguished the gay young moon forthwith. They
brought with them a bitter wind and a snowstorm, so that when he
finally struggled down the blast, Donald almost overran his objective
point. With him were a sledge, dog-train, and provisions. In answer
to Rainy's inquiries, he merely said:

"I'm on parole, and can go anywhere, and, as for these things--I
have friends in the camp!"

Loath to part with his faithful companion, he accompanied the Indian
a little way on the journey, and then returned to the camp, happier
and more hopeful than he had been in many hours.