roubling him, "and
it's all right if we can surprise this Jingoss or ambush him when we
find him. But suppose he catches wind of us and skips, what then? It'll
be a mighty pretty race, my son, and a hard one. We'll have to fly
light and hard, and we'll need every pound of grub we can scrape."

The young man's eyes darkened and his nostrils expanded with the
excitement of this thought.

"Just let's strike his trail!" he exclaimed.

"That's all right," agreed the woodsman, his eyes narrowing; "but how
about the girl, then?"

But Dick exhibited no uneasiness. He merely grinned broadly.

"Well, _what_ about the girl? That's what I've been telling you. Strikes
me that's one of your troubles."

Half-satisfied, the veteran fell silent. Shortly after he made an
opportunity to speak to May-may-gwan.

"All is well, Little Sister?" he inquired.

"All is well," she replied; "we have finished the parkas, the sledges,
the snow-shoes, the blankets, and we have made much food."

"And Jibiwanisi?"

"His foot is nearly healed. Yesterday he walked to the Big Pool and
back. To-day, even this afternoon, Little Father, the Black Spirit left
him so that he has been gay."

Convinced that the restored good feeling was the result rather of Dick's
volatile nature than of too good an understanding, the old man left the
subject.

"Little Sister," he went on, "soon we are going to take the winter
trail. It may be that we will have to travel rapidly. It may be that
food will be scarce. I think it best that you do not go with us."

She looked up at him.

"These words I have expected," she replied. "I have heard the speech you
have made with the Ojibway men you have met. I have seen the
preparations you have made. I am not deceived. You and Jibiwanisi are
not looking for winter posts. I do not know what it is you are after,
but it is something you wish to conceal. Since you have not told me, I
know you wish to conceal it from me. I did not know all this when I left
Haukemah and his people. That was a foolish thing. It was done, and I do
not know why. But it was done, and it cannot be undone. I could not go
back to the people of Haukemah now; they would kill me. Where else can I
go? I do not know where the Ojibways, my own people, live."

"What do you expect to do, if you stay with me?" inquired Sam,
curiously.

"You come from Conjuror's House. You tell the Indians you come from
Winnipeg, but that is not so. When you have finished y