well stand on Mount Robson and jump
for the moon! Sit down and make me wise on the business, then if the
storm slackens we can get busy."

Stane looked into the smother in front, and reason asserted itself. It
was quite true what Anderton said. Nothing whatever could be done for
the present; the storm effectually prevented action. To venture from
the shelter of the bluff on to the open width of the lake was to be
lost, and to be lost in such circumstances meant death from cold.
Fiercely as burned the desire to be doing on behalf of his beloved, he
was forced to recognize the utter folly of attempting anything for the
moment. With a gesture of despair, he swept the snow from a convenient
log, and seated himself heavily upon it.

The policeman stretched a hand towards a heap of smouldering ashes,
where reposed a pan, and pouring some boiling coffee into a tin cup,
handed it to Stane.

"Drink that, Hubert, old man, it'll buck you up. Then you can give me
the pegs of this business."

Stane began to sip the coffee, and between the heat of the fire and
that of the coffee, his blood began to course more freely. All the
numbness passed from his brain and with it passed the sense of despair
that had been expressed in his gesture, and a sudden hope came to him.

"One thing," he broke out, "if we can't travel, neither can anybody
else."

"Not far--at any rate," agreed Anderton. "A man might put his back to
the storm, but he would soon be jiggered; or he might take to the deep
woods; but with a dog-team he wouldn't go far or fast, unless there was
a proper trail."

"That's where they'll make for, as like as not," said Stane with
another stab of despair.

"They--who? Tell me, man, and never bother about the woods. There's a
good two hundred miles of them hereabouts and till we can begin to look
for the trail it is no good worrying. Who are these men----"

"I can't say," answered Stane, "but I'll tell you what I know."

Vividly and succinctly he narrated the events that had befallen since
the policeman's departure from Chief George's camp on the trail of
Chigmok. Anderton listened carefully. Twice he interrupted. The first
time was when he heard how the man whom he sought had been at Chief
George's camp after all.

"I guessed that," he commented, "after I started on the trail to the
Barrens, particularly when I found no signs of any camping place on
what is the natural road for any one making that way. I swung back
yes