gaoler took him by the arm, and stealthily they
entered the other room, their moccasined feet making no
noise. There, on the floor, lay the other two guards,
fast asleep. The big breed opened the door and they passed
out. Pasmore's brain almost refused to grasp the situation.
Was his gaoler going to assist him to escape?

But so it was. There was no one about. Every one seemed
to be asleep after the orgie on the previous night. At
last they reached a large empty shed on the outskirts of
the village, and there his guide suddenly left him without
a word. Pasmore was about to pass out, and make good his
escape, when suddenly he was hailed by a voice that he
knew well.

"Aha! villain, _coquin!_" it said, "and so you are here!
_Bien!_ This is a good day's work; is it not so?"

"Pepin Quesnelle!" cried Pasmore, going towards him. "No
words can thank you for what you have done for me this
day."

"And who wants your thanks?" asked the dwarf,
good-naturedly. "Come, the shake of a hand belonging to
an honest man is thanks enough for me. Put it thar, as
the Yanks say."

And Pasmore felt, as he obeyed, that, despite his
extraordinary foibles, Pepin Quesnelle was a man whom he
could respect, and to whom he owed a debt of gratitude
that he could never repay.

"Now, that is all right," observed Pepin, "and you will
come with me. Some friends of Katie's have found a friend
of yours to-day in the woods, and I will take you to
him."

But Pepin would tell him no more; his short legs, indeed,
required all his energies. But after winding in and out
of the bluffs for an hour or more, Pasmore found out who
the friend was. Coming suddenly upon a couple of hay-stacks
in a hollow of the bluffs, the dwarf put his fingers to
his lips and whistled in a peculiar fashion. In another
moment a dark figure emerged from the shadow.

"Top av the marnin' t'ye," it said.

"Rory, by all that's wonderful!" exclaimed Pasmore as
they wrung each other's hands.

"That's me," said Rory. "Now, here's a sleigh. I fancy
it was wance Dumont's, or some other gint's, but I'm
thinkin' it's ours now. It's bruk the heart av me thet
I couldn't bring them dogs along. If we have luck we'll
be back at the ranche before noon to-morrer. Jest ketch
hould av this rifle, and I'll drive."

In the clear moonlight Pasmore could see a team standing
on an old trail not fifteen yards away.

"But just let me say good-bye first to Pepin," said
Pasmore.

But Pepin