evenly. In the lead, as usual, was Charley
Seguis. At the end of the procession came two or three wounded
trappers, supported by their comrades.

One of the first to greet the arrivals was Donald McTavish. His
wonder at the skill and stamina that carried the men through that
awful storm expressed itself in eagerness to assist in relieving
men of their packs. The gaunt, half-starved five that had been left
at Sturgeon Lake pounced upon the food, and, without more ado,
started to brew pails of tea, and to thaw out meat. In the midst
of his work, Donald suddenly found himself side by side with Bill
Thompson, the _voyageur_ who had arrived the night before. At a
moment when they were unobserved, the old man spoke into the young
man's ear.

"I want to see you alone at the earliest opportunity," he said.

Donald looked at his companion in amazement, and saw something in
the other's face that drew instant assent.

The story of Seguis's party was soon told. The men had been traveling
hardly an hour when the storm overtook them. From an eminence, they
had seen the pursuit of the Hudson Bay men, and, though they had
run at top speed, the packs of provisions had retarded them to such
an extent that their pursuers were gaining steadily. When the storm
broke, however, these very provisions saved their lives, for the
Hudson Bay men, being without means of shelter or sustenance, had
given up the chase, rather than lose their lives in a pursuit of
which the favorable outcome was so problematical. Seguis, striking
into the usual trail to the camp, had overtaken his men that night,
while they were still struggling on, and had ordered a halt.
Confident of their safety, they had camped, and then resumed their
march at daybreak, finding their bearings, and keeping them, by
the skill known to woodcraft.

It was now noon, and there was still no abatement in the storm.
After a good meal, Donald sought out Bill Thompson, while the other
men huddled in their tents, and recounted the experiences of the
hazardous march.

"Didn't I hear somebody call you McTavish?" asked the old trapper,
suddenly dropping the garrulousness that had characterized him so
far, and looking at the young man out of keen gray eyes.

"Yes." Donald's perplexity at this strange interview increased.

"Son of the commissioner, are you?"

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"I used to know your father, many years ago; but things went
differently for us after a while, and I lost t