ad stopped, the
snow was tramped hard as a stockade; and in the centre of the beaten
place, distinct against the white, was a dark spot where a great
camp-fire had been built. At the river the party had stopped. Obviously,
there the last snow had obliterated the trail, and, seeing that they had
turned back, Tom Blair gave a sigh of relief. Whatever the future had in
store for him, it could reveal nothing so fearful as a meeting with
those whom intuition told him had made up that party.

But his relief was short-lived. Again, after they had breakfasted from
the grouse in the pack, Ben ordered the onward march, along the bank of
the great river. As they moved ahead, a realization of their destination
at last came to the captive, and for the first time he balked.

"Do what you wish with me," he cried. "I'll not go a step farther."

They were perhaps a mile down the river. The bordering hills enclosed
them like an arena.

"Very well." Ben Blair spoke as though the occurrence were one of
every-day repetition. "Give me your clothes!"

Tom's face settled stubbornly.

"You'll have to take them."

The youth's hand sought his hip, and a bullet spat at the snow within
three inches of the other's feet. There was a meaning pause. Slowly the
bravado left the other's face.

"Don't keep me waiting!" urged Ben.

Slowly, very slowly, off came the captive's coat and vest. Despite his
efforts, the hands which loosened the buttons trembled uncontrollably.
Following the vest came the shirt, then a shoe, and the sock beneath.
His foot touched the snow. For the first time a faint realization of the
thing he was choosing came to him. The vicious bite of the frost upon
the bare skin was not a possibility of the future, but a condition of
the immediate now; and he weakened. But in the moment of his indecision,
the wave of stubbornness and of blinding hate again flooded him, and a
rush of hot curses left his lips.

For a moment, the last time in their lives, the two men eyed each other
fairly. Indescribable hate was written upon one face; the other was as
blank as the surrounding snow. Its very immobility chilled Tom Blair and
cowed him into silence. Without a word he replaced shoe and coat and
took up his blanket. An advancing step sounded behind him, and,
understanding, he moved ahead. After a while the foot-fall again gained
upon him, and once more the walk merged into the interminable jog-jog of
the back-trail.

It was morning wh