lled the old Indian servant
to him.

"Michael," he said, "this Is just the time for me to do some work
on my outfit. My fur suit is badly in need of repair, and one of
my showshoes needs restringing near the curl. I want to be all
ship-shape when my time is up. Will you bring them to me?"

The Indian's instant acquiescence gave the young man a pang. Such
was his reputation for honor among these men that his jailer had
often declared he could leave the doors unlocked and still have a
prisoner in the morning. Now, Donald was about to blast this old
man's faith. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, however, and
thought no more on the subject. Once his decision had been made,
he would hold fast by it to the end.

McTavish had spoken truly. His hunting suit of white caribou was
badly frayed and worn after his blind wanderings in the forest,
and not only did one snowshoe need restringing, but both were loose
from his frequent awkward falls. Even old Michael, whose eyes were
weak, could see these things.

With _atibisc_--fine, tough sinews of the caribou--Donald strung
the defective toe, and then made a not very successful shift at
tightening the center webbing of _askimoneiab_, or heavy, membranous
moose filling. The mending of his clothes was a comparatively simple
matter by means of needle and thread.

All day he worked at this, so planning that evening should find
the task uncompleted, as an excuse for Michael to leave the equipment
over night.

As fortune would have it, snow began to fall shortly before sundown,
and McTavish was robbed of the stars for guidance once he should
be free. But the heavy, swirling curtain of flakes made his work
inside the fort much easier. At dinner-time, the wind had risen,
and the storm outside was of such fury that only the hardiest Indian
or trapper would have ventured out in it. This gave the captive
some concern, but he realized that he must either go now, or else
lose his opportunity.

As was his custom, Michael sat up smoking with a few cronies in a
near-by room until about ten o'clock. Then, he let his friends out
of the corridor, and securely fastened the door behind them with
lock and bolt. After that, he looked into McTavish's room, to find
the Scotchman almost ready for bed. With his customary respectful
good-night, he shut and locked the door, and shuffled on to his
own quarters.

Immediately, now, Donald dressed himself quickly, and then put out
the lamp, which had