tied his arms
behind him, and he was taken ashore with the rumble of a waterfall in
his ears. For two hours he watched the labors of the men as they
beached the bateau on long rollers of smooth birch and rolled it foot
by foot over a cleared trail until it was launched again above the
waterfall. Then he was led back into the cabin and his arms freed. That
night he went to sleep with the music of the waterfall in his ears.

The second day the Yellowknife seemed to be no longer a river, but a
narrow lake, and the third day the rowers came into the Nine Lake
country at noon, and until another dusk the bateau threaded its way
through twisting channels and impenetrable forests, and beached at last
at the edge of a great open where the timber had been cut. There was
more excitement here, but it was too dark for David to understand the
meaning of it. There were many voices; dogs barked. Then voices were at
his door, a key rattled in the lock, and it opened. David saw Bateese
and Joe Clamart first. And then, to his amazement, Black Roger Audemard
stood there, smiling at him and nodding good-evening.

It was impossible for David to repress his astonishment.

"Welcome to Chateau Boulain," greeted Black Roger. "You are surprised?
Well, I beat you out by half a dozen hours--in a canoe, m'sieu. It is
only courtesy that I should be here to give you welcome!"

Behind him Bateese and Joe Clamart were grinning widely, and then both
came in, and Joe Clamart picked up his dunnage-sack and threw it over
his shoulder.

"If you will come with us, m'sieu--"

David followed, and when he stepped ashore there were Bateese, and Joe
Clamart and one other behind him, and three or four shadowy figures
ahead, with Black Roger walking at his side. There were no more voices,
and the dog had ceased barking. Ahead was a wall of darkness, which was
the deep black forest beyond the clearing, and into it led a trail
which they followed. It was a path worn smooth by the travel of many
feet, and for a mile not a star broke through the tree-tops overhead,
nor did a flash of light break the utter chaos of the way but once,
when Joe Clamart lighted his pipe. No one spoke. Even Black Roger was
silent, and David found no word to say.

At the end of the mile the trees began to open above their heads, and
they soon came to the edge of the timber. In the darkness David caught
his breath. Dead ahead, not a rifle shot away, was the Chateau Boulain.
He knew it