od, I found this cave, and with my last
match lit the fire. I was trying to cook my venison when I heard you
coming."

The grey-brown eyes of the stranger never left Cameron's face while he
was speaking.

"You're a liar!" he said with cold insolence when Cameron had finished
his tale. "You look to me like a blank blank horse thief or whiskey
trader."

Faint as he was with cold and hunger, the deliberate insolence of the
man stirred Cameron to sudden rage. The blood flooded his pale face.

"You coward!" he cried in a choking voice, gathering himself to spring
at the man's throat.

But the stranger only laughed and, stepping backward, spoke a word
to the Indian behind him. Before he could move Cameron found himself
covered by the rifle with the malignant eye of the Indian behind it.

"Hold on, Little Thunder, drop it!" said the stranger with a slight
laugh.

Reluctantly the rifle came down.

"All right, Mr. Surveyor," said the stranger with a good-natured laugh.
"Pardon my abruptness. I was merely testing you. One cannot be too
careful in these parts nowadays when the woods are full of horse thieves
and whiskey runners. Oh, come on," he continued, glancing at Cameron's
face, "I apologise. So you're lost, eh? Hungry too? Well, so am I, and
though I was not going to feed just yet we may as well grub together.
Bring the cattle into shelter here," he said to Little Thunder. "They
will stand right enough. And get busy with the grub."

The Indian grunted a remonstrance.

"Oh, that's all right," replied the stranger. "Hand it over." He took
Cameron's rifle from the Indian and set it in the corner. "Now get a
move on! We have no time to waste."

So saying he hurried out himself into the storm. In a few minutes
Cameron could hear the blows of an axe, and soon the stranger appeared
with a load of dry wood with which he built up a blazing fire. He
was followed shortly by the Indian, who from a sack drew out bacon,
hardtack, and tea, and, with cooking utensils produced from another
sack, speedily prepared supper.

"Pile in," said the stranger to Cameron, passing him the pan in which
the bacon and venison had been fried. "Pass the tea, Little Thunder. No
time to waste. We've got to hustle."

Cameron was only too eager to obey these orders, and in the generous
warmth of the big fire and under the stimulus of the boiling tea his
strength and nerve began to come back to him.

For some minutes he was too intent on satis