It took a half-minute for this bit of information to percolate Miss
Penny's understanding, and when it did she uttered a shrill scream,
banged her door, turned the key, and shot the bolt upon the inside.

Alone in the living-room, the last words Chloe had spoken to her
flashed through the Indian girl's mind: "I can trust you to place this
in MacNair's hands."

Without a second thought for Miss Penny, she rushed into her room,
recovered the letter from its hiding-place beneath the pillow, thrust
it into the bosom of her gown, and hastily prepared for the trail.

In the kitchen she made up a light pack of provisions, and, with no
other thought than to find MacNair, opened the door and stepped out
into the keen, frosty air. The girl knew only that Snare Lake lay
somewhere up the river, but this gave her little concern, as no snow
had fallen since MacNair had departed with his Indians a week before,
and she knew his trail would be plain.

From her window Harriet Penny watched the departure of the girl, and
before she was half-way across the clearing the little woman appeared
in the doorway, commanding, begging, pleading in shrill falsetto, not
to be left alone. Hearing the cries, the girl quickened her pace, and
without so much as a backward glance passed swiftly down the steep
slope to the river.

Born to the snow-trail, the Louchoux girl made good time. During the
month she had spent at Chloe's school she had for the first time in her
life been sufficiently clothed and fed, and now with the young muscles
of her body well nourished and in the pink of condition she fairly flew
over the trail.

Hour after hour she kept up the pace without halting. She passed the
mouth of the small tributary upon which she had first seen Chloe. The
place conjured vivid memories of the white woman and all she had done
for her and meant to her--memories that served as a continual spur to
her flying feet. It was well toward noon when, upon rounding a sharp
bend, she came suddenly face to face with the Indians and the dog-teams
that MacNair had despatched for provisions.

She bounded among them like a flash, singled out Wee Johnnie Tamarack,
and proceeded to deluge the old man with an avalanche of words. When
finally she paused for sheer lack of breath, the old Indian, who had
understood but the smallest fragment of what she had said, remained
obviously unimpressed. Whereupon the girl produced the letter, which
she waved before