the dogs could awaken him. When at last he opened his eyes it was broad
day. He jumped to his feet and looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock,
and after ten before he again took up the pursuit of the two sledges.
Not until several hours later did he give up hope of overtaking Isobel
and her father as he had planned, and he reproved himself roundly for
having overslept. The afternoon was half gone before he struck their
camp of the preceding evening, and he knew that, because of his own loss
of time, Isobel was still as far ahead of him as when he had left Lac
Bain.

He made up some of this time by following the trail for an hour when the
moon was at its highest, and then pitched his tent. He was up again
the next morning and breaking camp before it was light. Scarcely had he
traveled an hour over the clear-cut trail ahead of him when he suddenly
halted his dogs with a loud cry of command and astonishment. In a small
open the trails of the two sledges separated. One continued straight
east, toward Churchill, while the other turned almost at right angles
into the south. For a few moments he could find no explanation for
this occurrence. Then he decided that one of the Indians had struck
southward, either to hunt, or on some short mission, and that he would
join the other sledge farther on. Convinced that this was the right
solution, Philip continued over the Churchill trail. A little later,
to his despair, it began to snow so heavily that the trail which he was
following was quickly obliterated. There was but one thing for him to do
now, and that was to hasten on to Fort Churchill, giving up all hope of
finding Isobel and the colonel before he met them there.

Four days later he came into the post. The news that awaited him struck
him dumb. Isobel and her father, with one Indian, had gone with the
sledge into the South. The Indian who had driven on to Churchill could
give no further information, except that he knew the colonel and his
daughter had suddenly changed their minds about coming to Churchill.
Perhaps they had gone to Nelson House, or York Factory--or even to Le
Pas. He did not know.

It was with a heavy heart that Philip turned his face once more
toward Lac Bain. He could not repress a laugh, bitter and filled with
disappointment, as he thought how fate was playing against him. If he
had not overslept he would have caught up with the sledges before they
separated, if he had not forced himself into this assi