aring. For a moment he halted as his glance swept
the familiar outlines of the log buildings, standing black and
clean-cut and sombre in the light of the rising moon.

MacNair drew a deep breath, and the next moment the long wolf-cry
boomed out over the silent snow. As if by magic, the clearing sprang
into life. Lights shone from the barrack windows and from the windows
of the cabins beyond; doors banged. The white snow of the clearing was
dotted with swift-moving forms as men, women, and children answered the
clan-call of MacNair, shouting to one another as they ran, in hoarse,
deep gutturals.

In an instant MacNair singled out Old Elk from among the crowding forms.

"What's happened here?" he cried. "Where is the white _kloochman_?"

Old Elk had taken charge of the thirty Indians MacNair had despatched
for provisions, and immediately upon learning from the lips of the
Indian women of Chloe's disappearance he had left the loading of the
sleds to the others while he worked out the signs in the snow. Thus at
MacNair's question the old Indian motioned him to follow, and, starting
at the door of the cottage, he traced Chloe's trail to the banskian,
and there in a few words and much silent pantomime he explained without
doubt or hesitation exactly what had taken place from the moment of
Chloe's departure from the cottage until she was carried, bound and
gagged and placed upon Lapierre's waiting sled.

As MacNair followed the old Indian's story his fists clenched, his eyes
hardened to points, and the breath whistled through his nostrils in
white plumes of frost-steam.

Old Elk finished and, pointing eloquently in the direction of Lac du
Mort, asked eagerly:

"You follow de trail of Lapierre?"

MacNair nodded, and before he could reply the Indian stepped close to
his side and placed a withered hand upon his arm.

"Me, I'm lak' y'u fadder," he said; "y'u lak' my own son. Y'u follow
de trail of Lapierre. Y'u tak' de white _kloochman_ away from
Lapierre, an' den, by gar, when y'u got her y'u ke'p her. Dat
_kloochman_, him damn fine 'oman!"

Realizing his worst fears were verified, MacNair immediately set about
preparations for the attack on Lapierre's stronghold. All night he
superintended the breaking out of supplies in the storehouse and the
loading of sleds for the trail, and at the first streak of dawn the
vanguard of Indians who had followed him from Snare Lake swarmed up the
bank from the river.

Ma