When Hubert Stane left the burning cabin, Helen did not obey his injunctions to the letter. A full minute she was to wait in the shadow of the door before emerging, but she disregarded the command altogether in her anxiety to know what fate was to befall him. She guessed that on his he expected a volley, and had bidden her remain under cover until the danger from it should have passed; and being morally certain that he was going to his death, she had a mad impulse to die with him in what was the hour of her life. As the yell greeted his emergence, she caught the sound of the rifle-shot, and not knowing that it had been fired by Stane himself, in an agony of fear for him, stepped recklessly to the door. She saw him running towards the trees, saw him grappled by the Indian who barred the way, and the second figure rise like a shadow by the side of the struggling men. The raised knife gleamed in the firelight, and with a sharp cry of warning that never reached Stane, she started to run towards him. The next moment something thick and heavy her head and shoulders, she was tripped up and fell heavily in the snow, and two seconds later was conscious of two pairs of hands her with . The covering over her head, a blanket by the feel of it, was bound about her, so that she could see nothing, and whilst she could still hear, the sounds that reached her were . Her feet were tied, and for a brief space of time she was left lying in the snow, wondering in an way, not what was going to happen to herself, but what had already happened to her lover.  
Then there came a sound that made her heart leap with hope—a sound that was the unmistakable crack of a rifle. Again the rifle , three times in rapid succession, and from the sounds she that the fight was not yet over, and felt a surge of gladness in her heart. Then she was lifted from the ground, suddenly hurried forward, and quite roughly dropped on what she guessed was a . Again hands were busy about her, and she knew that she was being to the chariot of the North. There was a clamour of excited voices, again the crack of the rifle, then she felt a quick jerk, and found the sled was in motion.
 
She had no thought of outside and as the sled went forward at a great pace, notwithstanding her own condition, she rejoiced in spirit. Whither she was being carried, and what the fate reserved for her she had not the slightest notion; but from the rifle-shots, and the manifest haste of her captors, she argued that her lover had escaped, and believing that he would follow, she was in good heart.
 
That she was in any danger, she did not believe. Her captors, on her to the sledge, had thrown some soft warm covering over her, and that they should show such care to preserve her from the bitter cold, told her, that whatever might ultimately befall, she was in no . With her head covered, she was as warm as if she were in a sleeping bag, the sled ran without a single jar, and the only that she suffered came from her bound limbs.
 
Knowing how vain any attempt at struggle would be, she lay quietly; reflecting on all the events of the night. Strong in the faith that Stane had escaped, she rejoiced that these events had forced from his lips the declaration that in the past few weeks she had seen him repress again and again. He could never recall it; and those kisses, taken in the very face of death, those were hers until the end of time. Her heart quickened as she thought of them, and her lips burned. It was, she felt, a great thing to have snatched the deepest gladness of life in such an hour, and to have received an from a man who believed that he was about to die for her. And what a man!
 
The thought of Miskodeed occurred to her; but now it did not trouble her very greatly. That visit of the Indian girl to the cabin had at first been incomprehensible except on one hateful supposition; but Stane's words had made it clear that the girl had come to warn them, and if there was anything behind that warning, if, as she suspected, the girl loved Stane with a wild, wayward love, that was not the man's fault. She remembered his declaration that he had never seen Miskodeed except on the two occasions at Fort Malsun, and though Ainley's evil suggestions to her mind, she dismissed them instantly. Her lover was her own——
 
The sledge came to a sudden standstill; and lying there she caught a clamour of excited voices. She listened carefully, but such words as reached her were in a tongue unknown to her. A few minutes passed, something was thrown on the sled, close by her feet, then a whip cracked, a dog , and again the sledge moved forward.
 
She was quite warm, and except for the thongs about her, comfortable, and presently her eyes closed, at first against the rather oppressive darkness resulting from the covering blanket, then remained closed without any conscious , and she slept, heavily and dreamlessly.
 
She was by the sled coming to a standstill; and then followed the sounds of men pitching camp; the crackle of a fire, the and of dogs quarrelling over their food. She did not know how long she had slept; but after , it seemed a very long time before any one came near her. Then she caught the sound of steps the frozen snow. The steps halted by the sledge and hands busied themselves with the fastenings. A minute later she felt that her limbs were free; and as the blanket was jerked from her head, she looked round.
 
It was still night, but by the light of a fire by which two men were sitting smoking, she caught the sight of overhanging trees and of a man who was by the sledge, looking down upon her. His face was in shadow and could not be seen, but the voice in which he addressed her was harsh and guttural, his manner almost apologetic.
 
"You stan' up now, mees."
 
As the blanket was jerked from her, Helen was conscious of a little of fear, but as the man spoke the fear vanished quicker than it had arisen. From the fact that he addressed her as miss, it was clear that he held her in some respect, whilst his manner spoke volumes. The words, though harshly spoken, were an invitation rather than a command, and accepting it as such, she first sat up, waited until a little attack of dizziness passed and then rose slowly to her feet. She swayed a little as she did so, and the man stretched a quick hand to steady her.
 
"Vait min'te," he said, "zee seeckness et veel pass."
 
It passed quicker than the man knew, and as the man had moved, bringing his face to the light, Helen used the opportunity to survey the man behind the hand which she had lifted to her head. He was, she saw, a half-breed of evil, pock-marked , with cruel eyes. Who he was she had not the slightest notion, but curiosity was strong within her, and as she lowered her hand, she waited for him to speak again.
 
"Ve vait here, leetle taime—une hour, deux, maybe tree. Zee dogs dey tire. But you veel not runs away. Dat vaire fool ting to do. Zee wood et ees so vast, an' zee wolves are plenty. You come to zee fire an' eat."
 
He moved towards the fire, as if certain that she would follow, and after one glance into the deep shadows of the forest, she did so. Whoever the man was, and whatever his intentions towards her, he talked sense. Flight without equipment or food, in a strange country, and in face of the menace of the arctic North would be the wildest . She seated herself on a log which had been placed for her convenience, accepted some fried moose-meat and unsweetened tea, whilst the other two men by the fire, both Indians, smoked , without upon her a single glance whilst she ate. When she had finished she pushed the tin plate from her, and looked at the half-breed, who had seated himself a yard or so away from her.
 
"Who are you?" she asked.
 
"Ah not tell you dat!" said the man with a grin.
 
"Then tell me what are you going to do with me?"
 
"You ' dat out for yourself in a vaire leetle taime," was the answer.
 
"Then where are you taking me?"
 
"Oh—Ah tell you dat, mees!" was the reply, given in a manner that implied that the speaker was glad to find something in which he could oblige her. "Ah tak' you to see lak' of zee Leetle Moose, ten, maybe douze miles away."
 
"But why should you take me there?" asked Helen.
 
"Non! Ah not tell you dat! You fin' out all in zee good taime," was the reply stolidly given.
 
Helen looked at the evil, cunning face, and knew that it was no use pursuing in that direction. She waited a full minute, then she began to ask another question, to her of even vaster moment:
 
"That man who was with me in the cabin, he——"
 
"Sacree!" cried the half-breed in a sudden burst of fury. "Dat man he ees dead, Dieu! an' eef he was not, I roast heem alive!"
 
"Dead!" As the broke from her, the girl looked at the half-breed............