n a lonely trail they wandered, the spirits of lost travellers
hungering in their wake--spirits that mumbled in cedar thickets, and
whimpered down the flumes of snow. And Pierre, who knew that evil things
are exorcised by mighty conjuring, sang loudly, from a throat made thin
by forced fasting, a song with which his mother sought to drive away the
devils of dreams that flaunted on his pillow when a child: it was the
song of the Scarlet Hunter. And the charm sufficed; for suddenly of
a cheerless morning they came upon a trapper's hut in the wilderness,
where their sufferings ceased, and the sight of Shon's eyes came back.
When strength returned also, they journeyed to an Indian village, where
a priest laboured. Him they besought; and when spring came they set
forth to Lonely Valley again that the woman and the smothered dead--if
it might chance so--should be put away into peaceful graves. But thither
coming they only saw a grey and churlish river; and the poppet-head of
the mine of St. Gabriel, and she who had knelt thereon, were vanished
into solitudes, where only God's cohorts have the rights of burial....

But the priest prayed humbly for their so swiftly summoned souls.

THE SCARLET HUNTER

"News out of Egypt!" said the Honourable Just Trafford. "If this is
true, it gives a pretty finish to the season. You think it possible,
Pierre? It is every man's talk that there isn't a herd of buffaloes in
the whole country; but this-eh?"

Pierre did not seem disposed to answer. He had been watching a man's
face for some time; but his eyes were now idly following the smoke of
his cigarette as it floated away to the ceiling in fading circles. He
seemed to take no interest in Trafford's remarks, nor in the tale that
Shangi the Indian had told them; though Shangi and his tale were both
sufficiently uncommon to justify attention.

Shon McGann was more impressionable. His eyes swam; his feet shifted
nervously with enjoyment; he glanced frequently at his gun in the
corner of the hut; he had watched Trafford's face with some anxiety, and
accepted the result of the tale with delight. Now his look was occupied
with Pierre.

Pierre was a pretty good authority in all matters concerning the
prairies and the North. He also had an instinct for detecting veracity,
having practised on both sides of the equation. Trafford became
impatient, and at last the half-breed, conscious that he had tried the
temper of his chief so far as was s