t, start in the teeth of this? Listen to it!" The drumming of wind
and shot-like snow on the trade-house windows steadily increased in
fury.

The muscles of Marcel's face stiffened into stone as he grimly insisted:

"We mus' start to-night."

"You are crazy, man; you need sleep," protested McKenzie. "I know it's a
life and death matter. But you wouldn't help that girl at Whale River by
losing the trail to-night and freezing. I'll see Hunter at once, but I
can't allow him to go to his death. If the blow eases by morning, he can
start."

Again Marcel turned, waiting for Wallace, who nervously paced the floor,
to speak. Then with a shrug he said:

"M'sieu Wallace weel wish to start to-night? I have de bes' lead-dog on
dees coast. She weel not lose de trail."

"What do you mean--Monsieur Wallace?" blurted the factor. Wallace raised
a face on which agony and indecision were plainly written. But it was
Jean Marcel who answered, with all the scorn of his tortured heart.

"_She ees de fiancee--of M'sieu Wallace._"

"Oh, I--I didn't--understand!" stumbled the embarrassed McKenzie,
reddening to his eyes. "But--I can't advise you to start to-night, Mr.
Wallace."

The factor went to the door. As he lifted the heavy latch, in spite of
his bulk the power of the wind hurled him backward. The door crashed
against the log-wall, while the room was filled with driving snow.

"You see what it's like, Wallace! No dog-team would have a chance on
this coast to-night--not a chance."

"Yes," agreed Wallace, avoiding Marcel's eyes. Then he went on, "You
understand, McKenzie, I'm knocked clean off my feet by this news.
But--we'll want to start, at least, by morning--sooner, if the dogs are
rested--that is, of course, if it's possible."

Deliberately ignoring the man who had thus bared his soul, Marcel drew
the factor to one side.

"Mon Dieu, M'sieu!" he pleaded in low tones. "She weel not leeve. Onless
we start at once, we shall be too late. Tak' me to de doctor!"

The agonized face of the hunter softened McKenzie.

"Well, all right, if Hunter will go and Mr. Wallace insists, but it's
madness. I'll go over to the Mission now and talk to the doctor."

When Jean had seen to the feeding of his tired dogs whom he left asleep
in a shack, he hurried through the driving snow with the Company Indian
to the Protestant Mission House, where he found McKenzie alone with the
missionary.

As he entered the lighted room, the Reverend Hunter