ed forward. The three men were still as mice. Then suddenly
he rolled over on one side, and his stertorous breathing indicated a
deep, unnatural slumber.

* * * * *

The hut was in darkness but for a beam of light which made its way in
through a narrow slit over the door. The sunlight shone down upon the
huddled figure of the traveller, who still slept in the attitude in
which he had rolled over on his fur coat when sleep had first overcome
him. Otherwise the hut was empty. The half-breed and his companions
had disappeared. The fire was out. The lamp had burned itself out. The
place was intensely cold.

Suddenly the sleeper stirred. He straightened himself out and turned
over. Then, without further warning, he sat up and found himself
staring up at the dazzling streak of light.

"Daylight," he murmured; "and they've let the stove go out. Gee! but I
feel queer about the head."

Moving his head so that his eyes should miss the glare of light, he
gazed about him. He was alone, and as he realized this he scrambled to
his feet, and, for the moment, the room--everything about him--seemed
to be turning topsy-turvy. He placed his hand against the post which
supported the roof and steadied himself.

"I wonder where they are?" he muttered. "Ah! of course," as an
afterthought, "they are out at their traps. They might have stoked the
fire. It's perishing in here. I feel beastly queer; must be the
effects of starvation."

Then he moved a step forward. He brought up suddenly to a standstill.
His two hands went to his waist. They moved, groping round it
spasmodically. Undoing his clothes he passed his hand into his shirt.
Then one word escaped him. One word--almost a whisper--but conveying
such a world of fierce, horror-stricken intensity--

"Robbed!"

And the look which accompanied his exclamation was the look of a man
whose mind is distracted.

So he stood for some seconds. His lips moved, but no words escaped
them. His hand remained within his shirt, and his fingers continued to
grope about mechanically. And all the time the dazed, strained look
burned in his great, roving eyes.

It was gone. That broad belt, weighted down with the result of one
year's toil, gold dust and nuggets, was gone. Presently he seated
himself on the cold iron of the stove. Thus he sat for an hour,
looking straight before him with eyes that seemed to draw closer
together, so intense was their gaze. An