their heads to
hold him as a hostage."

"Pardon, _mon ami_," said Jacques. "I think it is this
of two ways. Either we go as Rory here says, or we stop
and go back. As for myself, it matters not which--see"--he
showed some ominous scars on his wrists--"that was
Big-bear's lot long time ago when they had me at the
stake, and I was not afraid then. But I think it is well
to go, for if Pasmore is not dead, then we live again to
fight, and we kill that idiot St. Croix and one or two
more. _Bien!_ Is not that so?"

"Thet's the whole affair in a nutshell," said Rory. "Now
the question is, what we're going to do wid them beauties?
It would hardly do to leave 'em here, an' as for Lagrange,
he knows that them in Battleford won't be too friendly
disposed to him now, so 'e'd better come, too."

"That's it," said the rancher, "we'll make these two
breeds drive in front of us with the spare sleighs--they
can't leave the trail the way the snow is--and anyhow
we've got arms and they haven't, so I fancy they'll keep
quiet. When we get some distance away we may send them
back as hostages for Pasmore. Let us get ready."

The horses were speedily got into the sleighs, and in a
few minutes the procession was formed. As for Rory, he
had some little trouble in starting, for his dogs, in
their joy at seeing him, gave expression to it in their
own peculiar way. A big Muskymote knocked down a little
Corbeau and straightway began to worry it, while a Chocolat
did the same with a diminutive _tete-noire._

The order was given to pull out, and away they went again
in the early dawn. Rory had not gone far in his light
dog-sleigh before he pulled alongside the rancher.

"I say, boss," he said, "I ain't juist agoin' wid you
yet awhile. I know iviry hole an' corner of them bluffs,
an' I'm juist makin' for a quiet place I knows of, close
by, where I'll be able to find out about Pasmore, and
p'rhaps help him. As for you, keep right on to
Child-o'-Light. I'll foller in a day or so if I kin, but
don't you trouble about Rory. I'se know my way about,
an' I'll be all right, you bet."

CHAPTER XII

A MYSTERIOUS STAMPEDE

Before Douglas could make any demur, Rory had switched
off on to another trail and was driving quickly away.

"Rory is as wide awake as a fox," said Douglas to his
daughter. "He's off at full speed now, and I don't suppose
he'd turn for me anyhow, if I did overtake him."

"Let him go, father," said the girl. "Rory wo