und the same
conditions. Voudrin's cabin, however, showed signs of more recent
occupancy than had Whiskey Bill's. A pair of snowshoes bound high
against the wall, an old pair of fur gloves, and a few pots and
pans, indicated that the Frenchman would probably return. But, in
the meantime, McTavish had these questions to answer: Where had
the men gone? And why?

The swift darkness was coming on, and, in the absence of information
regarding Seguis, Donald decided to spend the night in Voudrin's
cabin, in the hope that the man might return by daylight. It was
possible the Frenchman had a three-day line of traps, and was out
making the rounds, camping in the forest trails, wherever darkness
overtook him.

Though chafing at the delay and the tricks of circumstance, Donald
knew that he could do no better than follow this plan, and so set
about unpacking for the night and preparing food for both himself
and his dogs. Soon there was a roaring fire in the stone fireplace
at the end of the one-room shanty, and the odor of frying meat
pervaded the atmosphere. Presently, he went outside to cut fresh
spruce boughs for the rough bunk.

In the woods he heard a noise. He looked up and found himself face
to face with two silent Indians, who stood looking at him gravely.
Although he was not sure, he thought he recognized them as a couple
of the early risers that had waved him good-by the day he started
from Fort Severn. The impression was only a passing one, however.

"Well, what do you want?" demanded the Scotchman, crisply.

For reply, one of the men reached inside his hunting-coat, and
fumbled a moment. Then he drew forth a scrap of very dirty, wrinkled
paper, which he extended without a word.

Amazed, Donald took it and tried to read the hastily scribbled
contents. The handwriting alone made his heart leap with surprise
and hope. It must have been five minutes before he finished struggling
in the dim light. Then, with his face puckered in a scowl of
perplexity, he turned to address the bearers of the message.

They were gone. So intense had been his concentration that they
had shuffled away in the darkness unnoticed.

Still scowling, Donald thrust the note into a pocket, gathered up
a double armful of spruce boughs, and went inside the shanty. There,
he sat down on an upturned box, and pulled forth the note again.
He read:

If you wish to do the company a great service drop your pursuit
of Charley Seguis and head fo