which David closed his fingers tightly about the
picture. And then, more insistently:

_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

He put the picture back into his pocket, and rose to his feet.
Mechanically he slipped on his coat. He went to the door, opened it
softly, and passed out into the night. The moon was above him, like a
great, white disc. The sky burned with stars. He could see now to the
foot of the ridge over which Mukoki had gone, and the clearing about the
cabin lay in a cold and luminous glory. Tavish, if he had been caught in
the twilight darkness and had waited for the moon to rise, would be
showing up soon.

He walked to the side of the cabin and looked back. Quite distinctly he
could see Tavish's meat, suspended from a stout sapling that projected
straight out from under the edge of the roof. It hung there darkly, a
little in shadow, swinging gently in the wind that had risen, and
tap-tap-tapping against the logs. David moved toward it, gazing at the
edge of the forest in which he thought he had heard a sound that was
like the creak of a sledge runner. He hoped it was Tavish returning. For
several moments he listened with his back to the cabin. Then he turned.
He was very close to the thing hanging from the sapling. It was swinging
slightly. The moon shone on it, and then--Great God! A face--a human
face! A face, bearded, with bulging, staring eyes, gaping mouth--a grin
of agony frozen in it! And it was tapping, tapping, tapping!

He staggered back with a dreadful cry. He swayed to the door, groped
blindly for the latch, stumbled in clumsily, like a drunken man. The
horror of that lifeless, grinning face was in his voice. He had awakened
the Missioner, who was sitting up, staring at him.

"Tavish ..." cried David chokingly; "Tavish--is dead!" and he pointed to
the end of the cabin where they could hear again that _tap-tap-tapping_
against the log wall.

CHAPTER XII

Not until afterward did David realize how terribly his announcement of
Tavish's death must have struck into the soul of Father Roland. For a
few seconds the Missioner did not move. He was wide awake, he had heard,
and yet he looked at David dumbly, his two hands gripping his blanket.
When he did move, it was to turn his face slowly toward the end of the
cabin where the thing was hanging, with only the wall between. Then,
still slowly, he rose to his feet.

David thought he had only half understood.

"Tavish--is dead!" he repeated huskily, stra