further word or glance at Cameron, Little Thunder gathered up
the stuff and vanished.

"Now," continued the trader, "you perhaps see that it would be wise for
you to come along without further delay."

"All right," said Cameron, trembling with indignant rage, "but remember,
you'll pay for this."

The trader smiled kindly upon him.

"Better get these things on," he said, pointing to the articles of
clothing upon the cave floor. "The blizzard is gathering force and we
have still some hours to ride. But," he continued, stepping close to
Cameron and looking him in the eyes, "there must be no more nonsense.
You can see my man is somewhat short in temper; and indeed mine is
rather brittle at times."

For a single instant a smile curled the firm lips and half closed the
steely eyes of the speaker, and, noting the smile and the steely gleam
in the grey-brown eyes, Cameron hastily decided that he would no longer
resist.

Warmed and fed and protected against the blizzard, but with his heart
full of indignant wrath, Cameron found himself riding on a wretched
cayuse before the trader whose horse could but dimly be seen through the
storm, but which from his antics appeared to be possessed of a thousand
demons.

"Steady, Nighthawk, old boy! We'll get 'em moving after a bit," said
his master, soothing the kicking beast. "Aha, that was just a shade
violent," he remonstrated, as the horse with a scream rushed open
mouthed at a blundering pony and sent him scuttling forward in wild
terror after the bunch already disappearing down the trail, following
Little Thunder upon his broncho.

The blizzard was now in their back and, though its force was thereby
greatly lessened, the black night was still thick with whirling snow and
the cold grew more intense every moment. Cameron could hardly see his
pony's ears, but, loping easily along the levels, scrambling wildly up
the hills, and slithering recklessly down the slopes, the little brute
followed without pause the cavalcade in front. How they kept the trail
Cameron could not imagine, but, with the instinct of their breed, the
ponies never faltered. Far before in the black blinding storm could
be heard the voice of Little Thunder, rising and falling in a kind of
singing chant, a chant which Cameron was afterwards to know right well.

"Kai-yai, hai-yah! Hai! Hai!! Hai!!!
Kai-yai, hai-yah! Hai! Hai!! Hai!!!"

Behind him came the trader, riding easily his demon-spirited