narl.

A sense of his peril cooled Fred's anger like an icy douche, and he was
silent. There was death in the four grim faces that regarded him. He
had no doubt that the men would murder for a far less sum than the
value of that sackful of precious stones.

For an instant he thought hard. He was entirely unarmed, and the men's
rifles stood just behind them. He would have to wait for
reinforcements. It was surely almost time for Maurice and Peter to be
back, and they must be warned of the danger before they entered the
cabin.

"All right," he said, with sudden mildness. "If you can prove that the
stones are really yours, I'm satisfied. The sack looked like my
brother's, that's all."

Mitchell gave a contemptuous grin. The Canadians lighted their pipes
again.

Fred felt that they watched him closely, however. He lounged about the
cabin with assumed nonchalance for a quarter of an hour, and then
ventured to go out on the pretext of bringing in a fresh log for the
fire. But once outdoors, he put on his snowshoes and rushed down the
trail to intercept his friends.

CHAPTER V

In deadly fear of hearing a shot or a shout from behind, Fred did not
stop running until he was out of sight of the cabin. He knew the
direction from which the hunters would be sure to return, and he posted
himself in ambush, in a spot whence he could keep watch in front and
rear.

Fortunately, he was not pursued. Fortunately, too, he had not very
long to wait there, for it was bitter cold. In the course of half an
hour, he discerned two black specks crossing a strip of barrens to the
north.

Fred ran to meet them. The hunters had no deer, but each of them
carried a great bunch of partridges.

"What's the matter? Is the camp on fire?" shouted Macgregor, as Fred
dashed up.

He had to stop to regain breath before he could gasp out an account of
what had happened.

"The diamonds!" Maurice exclaimed.

"But, don't you see, this makes it certain that Horace never left that
cabin alive!" Fred said heavily.

It looked like it, indeed, and no one found anything to say.
Macgregor's face had grown very grim.

"Anyhow, Horace risked his life for those stones,--perhaps lost
it,--and we 're not going to let those wretches carry them off," he
said. "Besides, the diamonds are the least important thing. Those
fellows have got our cabin, grub, ammunition, everything. We're
stranded if we don't get them back."

"We must tak