the grub-shack, the air
was filled with fine particles of flinty snow, and the roar of the wind
through the pine-tops was the mighty roar of the surf of a pounding
sea.

At one o'clock the boss called "gillon," and with loud shouts and rough
horse-play, the men made a rush for the bunk-house.

At two o'clock Daddy Dunnigan thrust his head through the doorway of
the shop where Bill, under the blacksmith's approving eye, was
completing a lesson in the proper welding of the broken link of a log
chain.

With a mysterious quirk of the head he motioned the foreman to follow,
and led the way to the cook-shack, where Blood River Jack waited with
lowering brow.

"D'yez happin to know is th' b'y up yonder?" asked the old Irishman,
with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of the house. Bill beat the
dry snow from his clothing as he stared from one to the other.

"The boy!" he cried. "What do you mean? Come--out with it--_quick_!"

"It is that my rifle and belt have gone from under the bunk," Blood
River Jack answered. "They were taken while I slept. The boy did not
come to dinner in the grub-shack. Is it that he eats to-day with his
people?"

"Good Lord! I don't know! Haven't you seen him, Daddy?"

"Not since mebbe it's noine o'clock in th' marnin', an' he wint to th'
bunk-house. I thoucht he wuz wid Jack." Bill thought rapidly and turned
to the old man.

"Here, you, Daddy--get a move on now!" he ordered. "That ginger cake of
yours that the kid likes, hustle some of it into a pail or a basket or
something, and carry it up to the house. Tell them it's for Charlie,
and you'll find out if he's there. If not, get out by saying that he's
probably in the bunk-house, and get back here as quick as you can make
it. There is no use in alarming the people up there--yet."

"Here you, Jack, go help the old man along. It's a tough job bucking
that storm even for a short distance. Come now, beat it!"

After ten minutes the two returned, breathless from their short battle
with the storm.

"He ain't there," gasped the old man and sank down upon the wood-box
with his head in his hands. "God help um, he's out in ut!"

"I'm going to the office," said the foreman and stepped out into the
whirling snow.

"Man! Man!" called Daddy, springing to his feet; "ye ain't a goin' to
thry----" The door banged upon his words and he sagged slowly onto his
rough seat.

A few minutes later Appleton stamped into the cook-shack. "Did you find
him