ble duty.

"Hello! What----"

Alec's exclamation of wonder was interrupted by a snow-covered figure
staggering full against him, and then falling heavily upon the floor.

Instantly every man sprang to his feet. It was enough to know that a
stranger was in their midst, and needed assistance.

Scarf and cap were removed, the parka torn off, and hands, arms and
legs freely rubbed. Presently Pete caught a full view of the prostrate
man's face. Pie leaned down close for a better view.

"B'ys!" he shouted, straightening himself up; "it's 'im! it's 'im. My
God, it's 'im!"

"And whose him?" replied Alec, thinking Pete had taken leave of his
senses.

"Why, the parson at Klassan; the man I've told yez so much about; the
chap that saved my life in Hell's Canyon five years ago. Quick, let's
lift 'im to yon bunk!"

CHAPTER VIII

A SURPRISE

When Keith opened his eyes, it was to see Old Pete, with an anxious
expression upon his face, sitting by his side. He looked at him
somewhat puzzled, but soon the recollection of his terrible experience
came to his mind.

"Why, Pete," he exclaimed, "I didn't know you were here."

"Ye didn't, laddie?" replied the prospector, delighted to see his
patient recover so quickly, "an' whar did ye think I'd be?"

"Out on the trail, of course, where you generally are."

"Ha, ha! Ye thought that, did ye, an' yer a parson! Waal, waal, I
didn't think it."

"Didn't think what? I don't understand you."

"Ye don't?" and Pete stroked his long, white beard meditatively. "But,
laddie, what would I be out on the trail fer, when the good Lord wanted
me here to help a friend in need? Tell me that. Didn't He send you,
laddie, to save me from Hell's Canyon five years ago? Ye talk about
them angels in the Good Book a-comin' down to arth, but I guess the
Lord uses us sometimes."

"You've been my good angel to-night, anyway," replied Keith feebly.

"A queer angel, laddie," and Pete glanced at his coarse clothes,
"though, I guess, He doesn't mind how a feller looks on the outside, so
long's his heart's right. But, thar, I've talked too much already, an'
fergot my dooty."

Crossing the room, Pete soon produced a small can, which had been
heating for some time upon the rickety stove.

"Here, drink this; it'll narve ye up a bit. It won't hurt ye, fer it's
only some moose-meat soup."

"Thar now, ye'll feel better," he remarked, when Keith had finished the
savory broth. "When y