ll make up your mind at once, and hand out that picture."

"But I tell you I haven't got it," she persisted. "Oh, please, please,
let me go. Have you no pity at all?"

"Give me that picture, or by heavens, I'll take it!" and he sprang
forward, and seized her with his rough hands.

With one piercing cry, Constance struggled to free herself from his
terrible clutches, while her brain reeled as she felt herself being
borne to the ground. Just when the last hope of help had fled, a harsh
growl and a roar fell upon her ears, while out of the night sprang a
dark object, and hurled itself full upon the villain bending over her.
The last that Constance heard was Pritchen's cry of rage and fear as he
struggled with his antagonist, and then she fell back unconscious upon
the trail.

CHAPTER XXII

OLD PETE

When Old Pete left Klassan, and went back to Siwash Creek with Keith's
dogs, he expected to return in a short time with a supply of
moose-meat. But the game was scarce, and he was forced to go far
afield before meeting the proud monarchs of the forest. It led him
into a new region, where he spent some time in prospecting a ledge of
rocks, which showed indications of gold-bearing ore. By the time he
again reached his own cabin Spring was upon him, and the snow was
rapidly disappearing from the ground.

One day he spent at Siwash Creek, packing up his meagre household
belongings, and that evening Alec McPherson came to visit him. This
sturdy son of the heather looked with surprise upon the dismantled
room, and turned inquiringly to his companion.

"What, mon, are ye awa' sae soon!" he exclaimed. "I thought ye would
stay wi' us noo."

Pete did not seem to hear this remark, but continued stuffing several
articles of wearing apparel into an old canvas sack. When the last
pair of socks had been carefully stowed away, and the bag deposited in
one corner of the room, he suddenly asked:

"What's the news from Klassan, Alec?"

"Nothing, Pete. Since ye came from yon, we've had never a word. The
big storm blocked the trail, an' atop o' that came the thaw, an' the
water noo is a-spillin' owre the land."

"What! no word from the parson or the lassie?"

"None."

"Wall, then, Alec, I'm a-goin' down, as fast as them hounds'll take me.
I'm anxious to hear some word."

"But ye won't strike the trail noo, mon, in its bad condeetion? Stay
here till things settle doon a bit."

Seating himself upon a stool Pete