st. In a lumberman's eyes hardly a crime could exceed that of
horse stealing.

"What I want to know is," said Breem, as he glanced sharply round the
long room of the camp, "what's become of that yellow-haired
jay--Bennett?"

"By George!" said Skid Thomson, "that's right! Where is the critter?"

"Skipped!" said Bill Bates, sententiously, after a quick search had
been made. "It's all plain enough now. I never liked the close-fisted
critter."

"Nor I, either!" growled Skid. "Never chipped in with the boys, but
was laying low just the same."

"You won't catch him, either," said Bates. "They're sharp--that kind.
The critter knew 'twould snow and hide his tracks."

"And I'd just sewed up his blamed foot!" muttered the cook in disgust.

"Maybe we'll catch him. Up to Fat Pine two years ago," began Breem,
reminiscently, "Big Donovan had a horse stole. They caught the
fellow."

"Yes, I remember," said Skid Thomson. "I was there. We caught him up
north." The men nodded understandingly and approvingly.

"Wuth a hundred and fifty dollars, the roan was," said Breem.

Beetle Ring camp passed an uneasy day, the "jug" for once receiving
scant attention. Late in the afternoon "Trapper John," an old
half-breed who hunted and trapped about the woods, stopped at the camp
to get warm.

"Didn't see anybody with a horse last night or this morning, eh,
John?" asked Posey Breem.

"Um, yes," responded the old trapper, quickly. "Saw um horse las'
night--man ride--big foot--so." Old John held out his arms in
exaggerated illustration.

Beetle Ring rose to its feet as one man. "What colour was the horse,
John?" asked Breem softly.

"Huh! Can't see good after dark, but think um roan." Breem looked
slowly round the silent camp, and Beetle Ring grimly made ready for
business.

It was evening when the men stopped a few rods below the shack. A
light shone out from a window, lighting up a little space in the
sombre woods.

"The fellow's got pals prob'bly," said Posey Breem. "You wait here
while I do a little scouting."

Breem crept cautiously into the circle of light, and glancing through
the uncurtained window, saw his man--with his "pals." He saw upon the
miserable bed a woman with a thin, pale face and sad, wistful eyes,
eyes that yet lighted up with a beautiful pride as they rested upon
the man, who sat close by, holding a tiny bundle in his arms.

The man shifted his position a little, so that the light fell upon the
bundle,