hard, would bring us to the lake before
Chigmok himself; and after considering the matter carefully I decided
to take the shorter route, and to await your captor at his own camp,
since, as he had no reason for anticipating pursuit, the surprise would
be all the more complete. We arrived there in good time, and--well, you
know the rest, Helen."

"Not quite," answered the girl in a listless, toneless voice. "You have
not yet told me what this man Chigmok proposed to do with me."

"Well, the wounded Indian told us that he had fallen violently in love
with you, and that he proposed to make you his squaw."

"Ah!"

Ainley interpreted the exclamation in his own way, but looking at the
girl was surprised by a look which had come into her face. Her
listlessness had fallen from her. There was a look of absorption about
her which puzzled him, and he wondered what she was thinking of. He did
not know what her captor had revealed to her, and so never dreamed the
truth, which was that Helen was thinking that for the second time he
had fallen from the truth in his narrative. But again she gave no
further sign. For a little time she sat there grasping at the hope, the
very little hope it gave her. He had lied twice, she was sure. What
reason was there for supposing that the other parts of his narrative
were true? He had owned that he had not seen Hubert Stane's body, and
that he had taken the Indian's word. But what if that were a lie, what
if after all there had been no body, what if that, like the other
things, was a fabrication? It was true that the half-breed had said
Stane was dead, but that might be a mistake. A faint hope stirred in
her heart, and she determined to question Ainley's two Indians as soon
as the opportunity arose. Then a new thought came to her, and she
turned quickly to Ainley.

"Tell me one thing," she said, "when you arrived at the cabin the
attack was quite over?"

"Quite," he answered.

"And you did not take part in the fighting? You fired no shots at the
attackers?"

"No," he answered. "They had gone when we arrived, all except the
wounded Indian who gave me the information."

"Then who was it?" she cried.

"Who was it? I do not understand what you mean, Helen."

"Some one fired on the Indians from the wood, and he kept on firing as
the Indians bound me to the sledge, and even after we had begun to
flee."

Ainley rose abruptly to his feet. It was very clear to the girl that
the information sh