broncho,
and singing in full baritone the patriotic ode dear to Britishers the
world over:

"Three cheers for the red, white and blue!
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!
The army and navy for ever,
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!"

As Cameron went pounding along through the howling blizzard, half
asleep upon his loping, scrambling, slithering pony, with the "Kai-yai,
hai-yah" of Little Thunder wailing down the storm from before him and
the martial notes of the trader behind him demanding cheers for Her
Majesty's naval and military forces, he seemed to himself to be in the
grip of some ghastly nightmare which, try as he might, he was unable to
shake off.

The ghastly unreality of the nightmare was dispelled by the sudden halt
of the bunch of ponies in front.

"All off!" cried the trader, riding forward upon his broncho, which,
apparently quite untired by the long night ride, danced forward through
the bunch gaily biting and slashing as he went. "All off! Get them into
the 'bunk-house' there, Little Thunder. Come along, Mr. Cameron, we have
reached our camp. Take off the bridle and blanket and let your pony go."

Cameron did as he was told, and guided by the sound of the trader's
voice made his way to a low log building which turned out to be the
deserted "grub-house" of an old lumber camp.

"Come along," cried the trader heartily. "Welcome to Fifty Mile Camp.
Its accommodation is somewhat limited, but we can at least offer you
a bunk, grub, and fire, and these on a night like this are not to be
despised." He fumbled around in the dark for a few moments and found and
lit a candle stuck in an empty bottle. "There," he cried in a tone of
genial hospitality and with a kindly smile, "get a fire on here and make
yourself at home. Nighthawk demands my attention for the present. Don't
look so glum, old boy," he added, slapping Cameron gaily on the back.
"The worst is over." So saying, he disappeared into the blizzard,
singing at the top of his voice in the cheeriest possible tones:

"The army and navy for ever,
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!"

and leaving Cameron sorely perplexed as to what manner of man this might
be; who one moment could smile with all the malevolence of a fiend and
again could welcome him with all the generous and genial hospitality he
might show to a loved and long-lost friend.

CHAPTER III

THE STONIES

The icy cold woke