The cold Northland dawn had broken when Stane was roused from his sleep by the voice of his companion.  
"M'sieu! m'sieu! It ees time to eat!"
 
Stane rubbed his eyes and looked round. Then he stood upright and stretched himself, every stiff muscle crying out against the process. He looked at the waiting breakfast and then at Bènard. One glance at the face of the latter told him that he had not slept, but he refrained from comment on the fact, knowing well what thoughts must have made sleep impossible for him.
 
"Have you seen anything yet, Jean?" he asked as he seated himself again.
 
"Not yet, m'sieu," answered the trapper. "But eef Chief George did not lie we cannot miss Chigmok—an zee oders."
 
"But if he lied?" asked Stane with a sudden accession of anxiety.
 
"Then we shall haf to range an' find zee trail. But I do not tink he lie. He too mooch afraid! Eat, m'sieu, we can watch zee lak' for zee comin' of Chigmok."
 
Stane ate his breakfast quickly, and when he had finished, accompanied Bènard a little way up the trail, which running along the base of the cliff by which they had camped, made a sudden turn between the rocks and unexpectedly opened out on a wide view.
 
Before him lay the snow-covered lake of the Little Moose, a narrow lake perhaps fifteen miles long. On one side ran a range of high rocky hills, a spur of which formed his own vantage place, and on the other side were lower hills covered with bush and trees almost to their . From the height where he stood he had an almost bird's-eye view of the lake, and he examined it carefully. Nothing moved on its surface of snow. It was as blank as Modred's shield. He examined the shore at the foot of the wood-covered hills carefully. by creek, bay by bay, his eye searched the shore-line for any sign of life. He found none, nowhere was there any sign of life; any thin column of smoke the presence of man. He looked at the other shore of the lake, though without any expectation of finding that which he sought. It was and barren, and precipitous in places, where the hills seemed to rise directly from the lake's edge. Nothing moved there, and a single glance told him that the land trail on that side was an impossibility. He looked at his companion.
 
"Dey haf not yet arrive," said Bènard, answering his unspoken question. "Dey camp in zee woods for zee night."
 
"If Chief George lied——"
 
"I say again I tink he not lie. We must haf zee patience, m'sieu. Dere is noding else dat we can do. We are here an' we must watch."
 
The minutes passed slowly, and to keep themselves from freezing the two men were forced to do -go on the somewhat narrow platform where they stood, occasionally varying the line of their short march by turning down the trail towards their camp, a variation which for perhaps a couple of minutes hid the lake from view. Every time they so turned, when the lake came in sight again, Stane looked down its length with expectation in his eyes, and every time he was disappointed. An hour passed and still they watched without any sign of their to cheer them. Then Jean Bènard .
 
"We tire ourselves for noding, m'sieu. We walk, walk, walk togeder, an' when Chigmok come we too tired to follow heem. It ees better dat we watch in turn."
 
Stane admitted the wisdom of this, and since he felt that it was impossible for himself to sit still, and suspected that his companion was sadly in need of rest, he elected to keep the first watch.
 
"Very well, Jean, do you go and rest first; but tell me before you go where the party we are looking for should strike the lake."
 
"Ah, I forgot to tell you dat, m'sieu." He towards the southern shore of the lake, where a small tree-covered island stood about half a mile from the shore. "You see zee island, m'sieu. Just opposite dere ees a creek. Zee regular trail comes out to zee lak' just dere, an' it ees dere dat you may look for zee comin' of Chigmok."
 
Stane looked at the island and marked the position of the creek, then an idea struck him. "Would it not be better, Bènard, if we removed our camp to the island? We could then surprise Chigmok when he came."
 
"Non, m'sieu! I tink of dat las' night; but I remember dat we must build a fire, an' zee smoke it tell zee tale; whilst zee odour it ees perceived afar. Den zee dogs, dey give tongue when oder dogs appear, an' where are we? Anoder ting, s'pose Chigmok not come zee regular trail; s'pose he knew anoder way through zee woods, an' come out further up zee lak'. Eef we on zee island we not see heem, but up here—" he swept a hand in front of him—"we zee whole lak' and we not miss him."
 
"Yes," agreed Stane. "You are right, Jean. Now go and rest. I will keep a bright look-out."
 
"I not doubt dat, m'sieu. You haf zee prize to watch for, but I——"
 
He turned away without finishing his sentence, and Stane resumed his sentry go, stopping from time to time to view the long expanse of the snow-covered lake, and to search the woods along the shore. As the time passed without bringing any change, and as the unbroken surface of the snow mocked him with its emptiness, he grew sick at heart, and a anxiety mounted within him. He felt helpless, and a fear that Chief George had lied, and had misled them, grew in him till it reached the force of conviction. Watching that empty valley of the lake, he felt, was a waste of time. To be doing nothing, when Helen was being hurried to be knew not what fate, was torture to him. It would, he thought, be better to go back on their trail, and endeavour to pick up that of the , since that way they would at least be sure that they were on the right lines. So strongly did this idea appeal to him, that he turned down the trail to the camp to propose the plan to his companion. But when he turned the corner of the cliff, it was to find Jean Bènard fast asleep in front of the fire, and though his first impulse was to waken him, he refrained, remembering how tired the man must be, and how necessary it was that he should be as fresh as possible when the moment for action arrived.
 
"No," he whispered, as he looked at the form of the sleeping man. "I will wait one hour, and then we will decide."
 
He himself was beginning to feel the strain of the steady marching to and fro, and that it would be wise to spare himself as much as possible. Accordingly he seated himself by the fire, contenting himself by walking to the top of the trail to view the lake at of from twelve to fifteen minutes. Twice he did this and the second time was made aware of a change in the atmosphere. It had grown much colder and as he turned the corner of the cliff a of icy-wind him in the face. He looked . The surface of the lake was still barren of life; but not of movement. Films of snow, driven by the wind, drove down its narrow length, were lifted higher and then as the wind fell. Overhead the sky was of a uniform leaden and he knew that before long there would be snow. And if snow came——
 
His heart stood almost still at the thought. It might snow for days, and in the storm, when all trails would be it would be an easy matter to miss Helen and her captors altogether. As he returned to the fire, his mind was full of forebodings. He was afraid, and though Jean Bènard slept on, he himself could not rest. He made up the fire, prepared bacon and moose meat for cooking, set some coffee to boil. It would be as well to have a meal in case the necessity for a start should arise. These things done he went once more to the outlook, and surveyed the snow-covered landscape. The wind was still for the moment, and there were no wandering wisps of snow. His first glance was towards the creek opposite the island. There was nothing there to arrest attention. His eyes travelled further without any light of expectation in them. Creek by creek, bay by bay, he followed the shore line, then, in a second, his gaze grew . The lake was no longer of life. Far-off, at least ten miles, as he swiftly calculated, a of black dots showed on the surface of the snow. Instantly he knew it for what it was—a team of sled dogs. His heart leaped at the sight, and the next moment he was running towards the camp.
 
"Jean! Jean!" he cried. "Jean Bènard!"
 
The sleeping man passed from to full wakefulness with the completeness that characterizes a healthy child.
 
"Ah, m'sieu," he said, upright. "Dey haf arrive?"
 
"I do not know. But there is a dog-train a long way up the lake."
 
"I weel tak' one look," said the trapper, beginning to walk quickly towards the head of the trail.
 
Stane went with him and indicated the direction.
 
"There, where the shore sweeps inward! Do you see, Jean?"
 
"Oui, m'sieu."
 
With bent brows the trapper stared at the blur of dots on the white surface, and after a couple of seconds began to count softly to himself. "Un, deux, trois, quatre——" Then he stopped. "Four dogs and one man," he said, turning to his companion. "But Chigmok it ees not. Behold, m'sieu, he ............