The short Northland day was drawing to a close, when Stane and Helen came in sight of the cabin again. For the first time since he had known it, the man felt that the place had a look; and the feeling was by the sombre woods that formed the background of the cabin. Whilst yet a hundred yards from it he gave expression to his feeling.  
"The cabin has a most forlorn look," he said, half-pausing to view it.
 
Helen, who was very tired, replied, "It certainly looks cheerless in the darkness, but that is because there is no light. A few sticks in the stove and the glare of the fire shining through the parchment window would make it seem cheerful and homey enough."
 
"But——" he broke off suddenly. "Hark. What was that?"
 
"I heard nothing," answered Helen.
 
"Listen," he said.
 
For perhaps twenty seconds they stood still, then somewhere in the wood some unseen creature barked. Stane laughed at himself.
 
"A fox! I believe I am getting nervous," he said, beginning to move forward. Helen moved with him, and they entered the cabin together. Striking a match and a slush lamp which he had devised, Stane looked round. Things were just as they had left them on their departure, and he drew a little breath of relief. Why he should do so he could not have explained, any more than he could have explained the feeling of which had overtaken him. A few minutes passed, and soon the stove was roaring, filling the cabin with a cheerful glow. Then whilst the girl busied herself with preparations for supper, he went outside to bring in more wood. On the return journey, as he kicked open the cabin-door, for a second his slightly stooping form was outlined against the light and in that second he caught sounds which caused him to drop the logs and to jump forward, suddenly. He threw the door to hurriedly and as hurriedly dropped the bar in place. Helen looked round in surprise.
 
"What is it?" she asked quickly.
 
"There is some one about," he answered. "I heard the twang of a bowstring and the swish of an arrow over my head. Some one aimed—Ah, there it is!"
 
He to the wall of the cabin, where an arrow had struck, and still quivered. Going to the wall he dragged it out, and looked at it. It was ivory tipped, and must have been sent with great force. The girl looked at it with eyes that betrayed no alarm, though her face had grown pale.
 
"An Indian!" she said.
 
"Yes," he answered. "And more than one I should fancy. That fox-bark was a signal. No doubt it gave notice of our return."
 
"What shall we do?" asked Helen quietly.
 
"Do!" he answered with a short laugh. "We will have our supper and wait developments. We can do nothing else. We shall have to wait until daylight—then we may learn something."
 
Helen nodded. "Yes, I suppose there is nothing else to do; and a hostile force outside is no reason why we should die of hunger within."
 
Calmly, as if hostile Indians were part of the daily program, she continued the preparations for supper, whilst Stane a blanket over the parchment window, which was the one vulnerable point in the cabin. This he wedged with the top of a packing case, which the owner of the cabin had for a shelf, and by the time he had finished, supper was almost ready. As they seated themselves at the table, the girl laughed suddenly.
 
"I suppose we are in a state of siege?"
 
"I don't know, but I should not be surprised. It is very likely."
 
"I feel quite excited," she said. "Do you think we shall have to fight?"
 
"It depends what the intentions of our friends outside may be. We shall certainly have to be on the alert."
 
"You mean we shall have to keep watch."
 
"That I think will be necessary. They might try to rush the cabin, though I do not think they will. It is pretty solidly built."
 
"Why should Indians attack us?"
 
"I do not know. They may think that we are with their hunting-rights."
 
"Perhaps this explains why the owner of the cabin has not returned."
 
"That is possible. This is a good fur country; but he may have felt that the furs were not worth the risk."
 
"Yes!" answered Helen, and after a moment's silence asked: "Do you think those Indians up the lake have anything to do with it?"
 
"That is more than possible, indeed, it is very likely. I did not like that old chief. There was a very cunning look in his eyes and it is very possible that he designs to get rid of both us and Anderton. The mysterious visitants we have had, and the man in the wood this morning have a rather look."
 
"But we shall fight them?"
 
"Of course! If they are going to fight, we shall fight; though for your sake I hope that won't be necessary."
 
"Oh, you must not mind me," was the reply, given with a little laugh. "The truth is that I think I should rather enjoy a fight."
 
Stane gave her a quick look of . "I know you will not be afraid," he said, "and if Anderton gets through it may not be long before help arrives. Also it must be remembered that we may be disturbing ourselves unnecessarily. That," he nodded towards the arrow—"may be no more than the freak of some hunter returning home, and meant to scare us."
 
"But you do not think so?" asked Helen, looking at his grave face.
 
"Well——" he began, but the girl interrupted him.
 
"You don't," she cried. "I know you don't. You have already admitted that you think the matter is serious, as I do myself, though I don't pretend to know anything about Indians. In a situation of this sort the truth is the best, and I know, we both know, that there is some occasion for concern. Is not that so?"
 
"Well," he agreed, "we can't be too careful."
 
"Then tell me what we must do," she said a little reproachfully, "and don't make me feel that I am a child."
 
He considered a moment, then he replied: "We must keep watch and watch through the night. Not that I think there will be any attack. These Northern Indians are wonderfully patient. They will play a waiting game, and in the end make a surprise attack. They will know that now we are on the alert, and I should not be surprised if for the present they have altogether."
 
"You really believe that?"
 
"Honestly and truly!"
 
"Then for the moment we are safe."
 
"Yes! I think so; and you can go to rest with a quiet mind."
 
"Rest!" laughed the girl. "Do you think I can rest with my heart jumping with excitement? I shall keep the first watch, perhaps after that I shall be tired—and bored—to go to sleep."
 
Stane smiled at her words, and admiration of her courage glowed in his eyes, but what she suggested fitted in well enough with his own desires, and he let her have her way, and himself lay down on his couch of spruce-boughs, and after a little time pretended to sleep. But in reality sleep was far from his eyes. From where he lay, he could see the girl's face, as she sat in the glowing light of the stove. There was a thoughtful, look upon it, but no sign of fear whatever, and he knew that her demeanour was not an assumed one, but was the true index of the gay courage of her heart.
 
Helen was thinking of the face of Miskodeed as she had seen it over her shoulder, when they were departing from the encampment up the lake. She had read there a love for the man who was her own companion, and in the dark, wildly beautiful eyes she had seen the of an undisciplined nature. And as she sat in the glowing light of the stove, she was conscious of a feeling of to this rare daughter of the wilds who dared to love the man whom she herself loved. She understood, from the feelings she herself was conscious of, what must be the Indian girl's attitude towards herself, and was inclined to trace the hostility which had suddenly manifested itself to that source. The girl had been in the neighbourhood of the cabin once, she was sure of that, and might have come again, probably by some short path through the woods, her hand, possibly, had the bow and sent the arrow which had their . But in that case, she asked herself, why had the arrow been directed against her companion rather than herself?
 
That she could not understand, and after a time her thoughts passed to the story which Stane had related to the policeman, and the account of the forged bill that the latter had given. The two together seemed absolutely . What a man had done once on the way of crime, he could do again, and as her conviction of Gerald Ainley's grew, she was quite sure that somehow he was the moving spirit in her companion's from Fort Malsun. He had not expected to see Hubert Stane, and when the latter had demanded an interview he had been afraid, and in his fear had taken steps for his removal. Ainley loved her; but now, if he were the last man left in the world, she would never——
 
A sound of movement interrupted her reverie, and she half-turned as Stane rose from his spruce-cou............