oboggan. It was eight miles to
Jac Breuil's, and they reached his cabin in two hours. Breuil was not
much more than a boy, scarcely older than the dark-eyed little French
girl who was his wife, and their eyes were big with terror. With a
thrill of wonder and pleasure Philip observed the swift change in them
as Josephine sprang from the toboggan. Breuil was almost sobbing as he
whispered to Philip:

"Oh, ze sweet Ange, M'sieur! She cam jus' in time."

Josephine was bending over little Marie's cot when they followed her
and the girl mother into the cabin. In a moment she looked up with a
glad smile.

"It is the same sickness, Marie," she said to the mother. "I have
medicine here that will cure it. The fever isn't as bad as I thought it
would be."

Noon saw a big change in the cabin. Little Marie's temperature was
falling rapidly. Breuil and his wife were happy. After dinner Josephine
explained again how they were to give the medicine she was leaving, and
at two o'clock they left on their return journey to Adare House. The
sun had disappeared hours before. Gray banks of cloud filled the sky,
and it had grown much colder.

"We will reach home only a little before dark," said Philip. "You had
better ride, Josephine."

He was eager to reach Adare House. By this time he felt that Jean
should have returned, and he was confident that there were others of
the forest people besides Pierre, Renault, and the Indian in the forest
near the pit. For an hour he kept up a swift pace. Later they came to a
dense cover of black spruce two miles from Adare House. They had
traversed a part of this when the dogs stopped. Directly ahead of them
had fallen a dead cedar, barring the trail. Philip went to the toboggan
for the trail axe.

"I haven't noticed any wind, have you?" he asked. "Not enough to topple
over a cedar."

He went to the tree and began cutting. Scarcely had his axe fallen half
a dozen times when a scream of terror turned him about like a flash. He
had only time to see that Josephine had left the sledge, and was
struggling in the arms of a man. In that same instant two others had
leaped upon him. He had not time to strike, to lift his axe. He went
down, a pair of hands gripping at his throat. He saw a face over him,
and he knew now that it was the face of the man he had seen in the
firelight, the face of Lang, the Free Trader. Every atom of strength in
him rose in a superhuman effort to throw off his assailants. Then ca