s were supposed to be trustworthy, but Johnny had his
misgivings and was on his guard. They had come in contact with
Russians, perhaps also with Orientals, and had learned treachery.

"And yet," thought Johnny, "what could they want from me? I paid them
well for my transportation. They sold their reindeer to the American
army for a fat price. They would be more than greedy if they wanted
more."

Nevertheless, the air of mystery hung about him like a dark cloud. He
could not sleep. And not being able to sleep, he meditated.

He had already begun the eternal round of thoughts that will revolve
through a fellow's brain at night, when he heard a sound--the soft crush
of a skin boot in the snow it seemed. He listened and thought he heard
it again, this time more distinctly, as if the person were approaching
his igloo. A chill crept up and down his spine. His right hand
involuntarily freed itself from the furs and sought the cold hilt of the
Russian knife. He had his army automatic, but where there are many ears
to hear a shot, a knife is better.

"What an ideal trap for treachery, this igloo! A villain need but creep
through tent-flaps, pause for a breath, then stealthily lift the deer
skin curtain. A stab or a shot, and all would be ended." These thoughts
sped through Johnny's mind.

Scarcely breathing, he waited for other signs of life abroad at that
hour of night--a night sixteen hours long. He heard nothing.

Finally, his mind took up again the endless chain of thought. He had
arrived safely at Khabarask, the terminus of the Russian line. Here he
had remained for three days, half in hiding, until the "Reindeer
Special" had completed its loading and had started on its southern
journey to the waiting doughboys. During those three days he had made
two startling discoveries; the short Russian of the broad shoulders and
sharp chin, he of the envelope of diamonds, was in Khabarask. Johnny had
seen him in an eating place, and had had an opportunity to study him
without being observed. The man, he concluded, although a total stranger
in these parts, was a person of consequence, a leader of some sort,
accustomed to being obeyed. There seemed a brutal certainty about the
way he ordered the servants of the place to do his bidding. There was a
constant wrinkle of a frown between his eyes. A man, perhaps without a
sense of humor, he would force every issue to the utmost. Once given an
idea, he would override all obstacles to ca