in enough for us. Weel, we ken----"

"Knowing a thing is not sufficient; you want proof, and if you go ahead
without it, you'll put yourselves in the wrong. This is not the time to
alienate popular sympathy."

"Weel," said the leader, "hae ye a plan?"

Kermode lighted his pipe and after a few moments answered thoughtfully:

"I hear that Mitcham, Long Bill, and Libby will take the trail to-morrow
with Bill's team and sled--he's laid off work because of the snow. They
were away three or four days once or twice before, and when they came
back a number of the boys got on a high-class jag and there was trouble
in camp. I dare say you can put the things together?"

"Sure," declared one who had not spoken yet. "Where do we butt in?"

"This is my suggestion--half a dozen picked men will meet Mitcham coming
home and seize the sled. If its load is what I suspect, somebody will
ride off for Sergeant Inglis on my horse, and you'll have a guard ready
to bring the sled to camp and hold the liquor until the police arrive.
I'm inclined to think you can leave the rest to them."

A harsh smile crept into the faces of the listeners, and their leader
nodded gravely.

"We cannot do better. It will work."

The plan was duly put into execution, and one bitter night Kermode and
several others plodded up a frozen creek. It had been snowing hard for
the last few hours and he could scarcely see his companions through the
driving flakes, while the wail of the wind in the pines above drowned the
soft sound of their footsteps. Kermode was tired and very cold, and could
not have explained clearly what had induced him to accompany the
expedition. Adventure, however, always appealed to him, and he was sorry
for Ferguson, who had, he thought, been very shabbily treated. Kermode
had a fellow-feeling for anybody in difficulties.

After a while the snow ceased and they could dimly see the dark pines
climbing the steep banks that shut them in. It was obvious that if
Mitcham's party had entered the deep hollow, they could not well get out
of it. The expedition had only to go on or wait until it met them; but
Kermode did not envy the man whose duty it would be to ride across the
open waste to the lonely post where Sergeant Inglis might be found.
Resting, however, was out of the question. They must move to keep from
freezing, and though the snow began again, they plodded on, with heads
lowered to meet the blast that drove the stinging flakes into the