h you seem to have overlooked."

"Ah!" said Clarke with ironical calm. "You will no doubt mention it."

"You suggest Blake's innocence, but you must be content with doing so.
You cannot prove it in the face of his denial."

To Challoner's surprise, Clarke smiled.

"So you have seen that! The trouble is that your nephew may never have
an opportunity of denying it. He left for the North very badly
equipped, and he has not come back yet." Then he rose with an
undisturbed air. "Well, as it seems we can't come to terms, I needn't
waste my time, and it's a long walk to the station. I must try some
other market, and while I think you have made a grave mistake that is
your affair."

Challoner let him go and afterwards sat down to think. There had been
nothing forcible or obviously threatening in the man's last few
remarks, but their effect was somehow sinister. Challoner wondered
whether he had done well in suggesting that Blake's denial would prove
Clarke's greatest difficulty. After all, he had a strong affection for
his nephew, who might be in danger, and knew that the wilds of Northern
Canada might prove deadly to a weak party unprovided with proper
sledges and stores. Still, something might, perhaps, be done, and by
and by he wrote a letter to a friend who had once made an adventurous
journey across the frozen land.

CHAPTER XXII

CLARKE MODIFIES HIS PLANS

A bitter wind swept the snowy prairie and the cold was Arctic when
Clarke, shivering in his furs, came into sight of his homestead as he
walked back from Sweetwater. He had gone there for his mail, which
included an English newspaper, and had taken supper at the hotel. It
was now about two hours after dark, but a full moon hung in the western
sky and the cluster of wooden buildings formed a shadowy blur on the
glittering plain. There was no fence, not a tree to break the white
expanse that ran back to the skyline, and it struck Clarke, who had
lately returned from England, that the place looked very dreary.

He walked on with the fine, dry snow the wind whipped up glistening on
his furs, and on reaching the homestead went first to the stable. It
was built of sod, which was cheaper and warmer than sawn lumber, and,
lighting a lantern, he fed his teams. The heavy Clydesdales and
lighter driving horses were all valuable, for Clarke was a successful
farmer and had found that the purchase of the best animals and
implements led to economy, thou