The wind rushed howling
through their naked branches, and the driving snow seemed like the
packed lances of a million unseen horsemen in a mad charge.

At length the dogs stopped and, squatting in the snow, looked
beseechingly into their master's face. The small sled dragged heavily,
even with its light load of blankets and provisions.

"Come, Yukon, old boy, cheer up," encouraged Keith, going to the
leader's side, and patting him affectionately on the head. "I'll give
you a hand. We must get out of this."

Again they pushed forward, the man assisting the dogs by means of a
small rope attached to the sled. But night--an awful night--now closed
down, adding its horror to the situation. A sense of helplessness shot
into Keith's heart, and stayed his steps. He dropped the rope, tore
away the harness from the crouching brutes, and turned them loose.
Seizing the sled, he stood it on end in the snow, and taking with him
only his small medicine case, began once more his hard fight. But he
found it much harder now. His feet left the trail, and he sank deep
into the snow. Back he scrambled, and groped onward like a blind man,
searching with his feet for the hard bottom. Again and again he missed
the track until at last he stopped in despair. What was he to do? Was
he to perish miserably there in that blinding storm? The wind was
piercing, chilling him to the bone, and he shivered.

Presently Yukon, who had been following close at his master's heels,
pricked up his ears, sniffed the air, and, bounding forward, took the
lead. This action aroused Keith. He believed a human habitation was
near, and that the dog had scented the smoke afar off. Neither was he
mistaken, for soon they reached green timber, which broke somewhat the
violence of the storm.

Pushing their way through the trees for several hundred yards, a faint
glimmer of light pierced the darkness straight ahead.

"Thank God!" murmured Keith, as he waded wearily up to the small log
building, and rapped on the rude door. "This must be the place; the
first on the trail, so I was told."

A noise of some one moving within fell upon his ear, followed by a
fumbling sound as of a bar being removed. Then the door was cautiously
opened, and a big grizzly head was thrust out. Keith started back at
the wild appearance, and the terrible look in the man's eyes. He had
seen such eyes before in mad-houses.

"Does Jim Blasco live here?" he stammered.

"Does