crifice all their lives in vain.

The dogs took the back trail reluctantly. The sled had been unloaded
and was lighter. Moreover, they followed a trail already broken except
where the sweep of the wind had filled it up. McRae cheered them to
their work.

"Up wi' ye, Koona! Guid dog. Cha, cha! You'll be doin' gran' work,
Cuffy. Marche!"

Morse stumbled over Onistah where he lay in the trail. The Blackfoot
was still conscious, though he was drowsing into that sleep which is
fatal to Arctic travelers caught in a blizzard. He had crawled on
hands and feet through the snow after his knees failed him. It must
have been only a few minutes after he completely collapsed that they
found him.

He was given a gulp or two of whiskey and put on the sled. Again the
dogs buckled to the pull. A quarter of an hour later the party reached
the cabin.

Onistah was given first aid. Feet and face were rubbed with snow to
restore circulation and to prevent frost-bite. He had been rescued in
time to save him from any permanent ill effects.

In the back of all their minds lay a haunting fear. What had become
of Jessie? There was a chance that the blizzard had caught the party
before it reached its destination. Neither West nor Whaley was an
inexperienced musher. They knew the difficulties of sub-Arctic travel
and how to cope with them. But the storm had blown up with unusual
swiftness.

Even if the party had reached safety, the girl's troubles were not
ended. With the coming of darkness her peril would increase. As long
as Whaley was with West there was hope. The gambler was cold-blooded
as a fish, but he had the saving sense of sanity. If he meant to
return to Faraway--and there was no reason why he should not--he dared
not let any harm befall the girl. But West was a ruffian unmitigated.
His ruthless passion might drive him to any evil.

In front of the fire they discussed probabilities. Where had the two
free traders taken the girl? Not far, in the face of such a storm.
They canvassed places likely to serve as retreats for West.

Once McRae, speaking out of his tortured heart, made an indirect
reference to what all of them were thinking. He was looking somberly
into the fire as he spoke.

"Yea, the darkness hideth not from Thee, but the night shineth as the
day: the darkness and the light are both alike to Thee."

He found in his religion a stay and comfort. If he knew that under
cover of darkness evil men do evil deeds, he cou