for
the winter," Boreland said, dully. "The salmon run is over."

Ellen was not listening. She had taken her eyes from the fast
vanishing steamer and was looking anxiously down the empty beach toward
the far away rockers.

"Shane . . . Shane . . ." she faltered now. There was a queer,
frightened tone in her voice that sent a chill to the hearts of her
listeners. "Where is Lollie?"

Boreland wheeled about.

"Why, he went home to you two hours ago, El! Haven't you seen him?"

"No!" Ellen's alarmed gaze sought his. Forgotten was the ship, the
gold, the people about them; forgotten was everything else in the world
but the soul-gripping parental fear they saw reflected in each other's
face.

"The grizzly!" The mother's white lips whispered the words the father
dared not utter. "O, Shane, come! Quick! We must find him!"

CHAPTER XXI

KOBUK

Boreland and Kayak Bill searched the beach below the cabin for
footprints while Harlan took the trail across the Island toward his
Hut. Ellen and her sister hoping that the boy had returned during
their absence, ran home to look into every nook and corner. . . . The
silence drove them once more into the open.

Ellen, her throat tightening with unshed tears, stood on the porch and
called:

"L-o-l-l-i-e! . . . S-o-n!"

The only answer was the mocking cry of a gull floating high in the
sunlight. . . .

Boreland came hurriedly up the trail from the beach.

"There are no tracks in the sand toward Sunset Point, El, but Kayak is
going along Skeleton Rib toward the cliffs."

At the stricken look in the mother's face, Jean turned quickly to her
brother-in-law.

"He must have found Kobuk and gone off adventuring again, Shane. . . .
But he can't have gone far with the dog so crippled. Perhaps he's
picking flowers," she suggested hopefully.

Ellen had started down toward the dilapidated hut where Loll had
surprised the swallows on his first morning exploration. Lying on the
doorsill she found some fragrant spikes of late-blooming orchis tied
with a grass blade. Calling to the others she picked up the flowers.
Boreland answered her with a gesture and after running back into the
cabin for his rifle, followed.

"He loved the yellow flowers best, Jean," Ellen said thoughtfully.
"Perhaps he has gone to the gulch where they grow thickest."

Toward the steep depression in the hillside some two hundred yards
distant the coarse grass of the tundra was flattene