him.

It was this Presence that rebuilt Kent. It urged him to throw up his
head again, to square his shoulders, to look life once more straight in
the face. It was both inspiration and courage to him and grew nearer
and dearer to him as time passed. Early Autumn found him in the Fond du
Lac country, two hundred miles east of Fort Chippewyan. That Winter he
joined a Frenchman, and until February they trapped along the edges of
the lower fingers of the Barrens.

He came to think a great deal of Picard, his comrade. But he revealed
nothing of his secret to him, or of the new desire that was growing in
him. And as the Winter lengthened this desire became a deep and abiding
yearning. It was with him night and day. He dreamed of it when he
slept, and it was never out of his thoughts when awake. He wanted to go
HOME. And when he thought of home, it was not of the Landing, and not
of the country south. For him home meant only one place in the world
now--the place where Marette had lived. Somewhere, hidden in the
mountains far north and west, was that mysterious Valley of Silent Men
where they had been going when her body died. And the spirit of her
wanted him to go to it now. It was like a voice pleading with him,
urging him to go, to live there always where she had lived. He began to
plan, and in this planning he found new joy and new life. He would find
her home, her people, the valley that was to have been their paradise.
So late in February, with his share of the Winter catch in his pack, he
said good-by to Picard and faced the River again.

CHAPTER XXIV

Kent had not forgotten that he was an outlaw, but he was not afraid.
Now that he had something new and thrilling to fight for, he fell back
again upon what he called "the finesse of the game." He approached
Chippewyan cautiously, although he was sure that even his old friends
at the Landing would fail to recognize him now. His beard was four or
five inches long, and his hair was shaggy and uncut. Picard had made
him a coat, that winter, of young caribou skin, and it was fringed like
an Indian's. Kent chose his time and entered Chippewyan just before
dusk.

Oil lamps were burning in the Hudson's Bay Company's store when he went
in with his furs. The place was empty, except for the factor's clerk,
and for an hour he bartered. He bought a new outfit, a Winchester
rifle, and all the supplies he could carry. He did not forget a razor
and a pair of shears, and whe