Whoa!" yelled a voice sharply. The sound of hoof beats ceased and only
the roaring of the blizzard could be heard.

"Hello!" cried Cameron again. "Who are you?" But only the gale answered
him.

Again and again he called, but no voice replied. Once more he rushed
into the cave, seized his rifle and fired a shot into the air.

"Crack-crack," two bullets spat against the rock over his head.

"Hold on there, you fool!" yelled Cameron, dodging back behind the rock.
"What are you shooting at? Hello there!" Still there was no reply.

Long he waited till, desperate with anxiety lest his unknown visitors
should abandon him, he ran forward once more beyond the ledge of the
rock, shouting, "Hello! Hello! Don't shoot! I'm coming out to you."

At the turn of the rocky ledge he paused, concentrating his powers to
catch some sound other than the dull boom and hiss of the blizzard.
Suddenly at his side something moved.

"Put up your hands, quick!"

A dark shape, with arm thrust straight before it, loomed through the
drift of snow.

"Oh, I say--" began Cameron.

"Quick!" said the voice, with a terrible oath, "or I drop you where you
stand."

"All right!" said Cameron, lifting up his hands with his rifle high
above his head. "But hurry up! I can't stand this long. I am nearly
frozen as it is."

The man came forward, still covering him with his pistol. He ran his
free hand over Cameron's person.

"How many of you?" he asked, in a voice sharp and crisp.

"I am all alone. But hurry up! I am about all in."

"Lead on to your fire!" said the stranger. "But if you want to live, no
monkey work. I've got you lined."

Cameron led the way to the fire. The stranger threw a swift glance
around the cave, then, with eyes still holding Cameron, he whistled
shrilly on his fingers. Almost immediately, it seemed to Cameron, there
came into the light another man who proved to be an Indian, short,
heavily built, with a face hideously ugly and rendered more repulsive
by the small, red-rimmed, blood-shot eyes that seemed to Cameron to peer
like gimlets into his very soul.

At a word of command the Indian possessed himself of Cameron's rifle and
stood at the entrance.

"Now," said the stranger, "talk quick. Who are you? How did you come
here? Quick and to the point."

"I am a surveyor," said Cameron briefly. "McIvor's gang. I was left at
camp to cook, saw a deer, wounded it, followed it up, lost my way, the
storm caught me, but, thank G