Tell him, whatever he does,
to do this.

"Now, Thompson, the factor and I have had a lot of trouble this
winter, and the chances are that we will have a lot more, but I
want you to tell him that Donald McTavish sent you with those
messages, and that I'm faithful to the Company through everything."

"Well, Mr. McTavish," said the old man, "I'll have to pull my
freight in this storm, I guess, and in the middle of the night,
too. Possibly, to-morrow morning may be clear, and, if it is, I
doubt if I could explain my destination satisfactorily. I'll move
to-night."

"And I'll help you," said Donald.

By midnight, there was still no change in the weather. The young
man crawled from his shelter and sought out Thompson, who, with
his dogs, occupied a tent near the ruins of the old warehouse. A
tiny pack of provisions that had been stolen and saved during the
day Thompson put upon his rickety sledge.

"Did you get a chance to look over those furs? asked McTavish.

"Sure; I spent an hour with 'em, and I don't think my estimate will
be off more than a hundred skins. And, say, they're beauties, too."

"Remember all I told you to tell Fitzpatrick."

"Yes. Now, to get down to the lake! This is a northwest wind, and
I'll have to fight it every inch of the way. What's the landmark
by the camp?"

Donald told him, and added:

"Thompson, more depends upon you than you have any idea of. Tell
the factor to hurry, hurry, _hurry_, if he's going to get that
supply train. Goodby."

The weather-beaten _voyageur_ gripped the outstretched hand, and
led the dogs over the new snow to the lake. It would be bitter
work, for there were drifts and no crust.

"Look here, McTavish, why don't you make your get-away now?" suddenly
demanded Thompson.

"I'm on a hot trail of another sort here," was the curt answer;
"and I won't go until I have followed it to the end."

Thompson asked no more questions, but "mushed" the dogs, and a
minute later was swallowed up in the swirling flakes.

The following day was a busy one in the free-traders' camp. The
storm did not abate until nightfall, and during that time the men
were engaged in digging their habitations clear of the snow that
almost threatened to bury them. In this work, McTavish cheerfully
took a hand, and, by his good-humored banter, won his way to the
hearts of his fellow-toilers. Notwithstanding his industry, the
Hudson Bay man kept his eye open for glimpses of Maria who, as he
expec