man. He sat huddled in the snow, his
back to them. Despair was in the droop of the head and the set of the
bowed shoulders.

One of the dogs howled. The big torso straightened instantly. The
shaggy head came up. Bully West was listening intently. He turned and
looked straight at them, but he gave no sign of knowing they were
there. The constable took a step and the hissing of the shoe-runner
sounded.

"I'm watchin' you, Stomak-o-sox," the heavy voice of the convict
growled. "Can't fool me. I see every step you're takin'."

It was an empty boast, almost pathetic in its futility. Morse and
Beresford moved closer, still without speech.

West broke into violent, impotent cursing. "You're there, you damned
wood Cree! Think I don't know? Think I can't see you? Well, I can.
Plain as you can see me. You come here an' get me, or I'll skin you
alive like I done last week. Hear me?"

The voice rose to a scream. It betrayed terror--the horrible deadly
fear of being left alone to perish in the icy wastes of the North.

Beresford crept close and waved a hand in front of the big man's eyes.
West did not know it. He babbled vain and foolish threats at his
guide.

The convict had gone blind--snow-blind, and Stomak-o-sox had left him
alone to make a push for his own life while there was still time.

CHAPTER XXXV

SNOW-BLIND

West grinned up at the officer, his yellow canines showing like
tusks. His matted face was an unlovely sight. In it stark, naked fear
struggled with craftiness and cruelty.

"Good you came back--good for you. I ain't blind. I been foolin' you
all along. Wanted, to try you out. Now we'll mush. Straight for the
big lake. North by west like we been going. Un'erstand, Stomak-o-sox?
I'll not beat yore head off this time, but if you ever try any monkey
tricks with Bully West again--" He let the threat die out in a sound
of grinding teeth.

Beresford spoke. His voice was gentle. Vile though this murderer
was, there was something pitiable in his condition. One cannot see a
Colossus of strength and energy stricken to helplessness without some
sense of compassion.

"It's not Stomak-o-sox. We're two of the North-West Mounted. You're
under arrest for breaking prison and for killing Tim Kelly."

The information stunned West. He stared up out of sightless eyes. So
far as he had known, no member of the Mounted was within five hundred
miles of him. Yet the law had stretched out its long arm to snatch
him