ean was about and stirring. As they devoured the few sandwiches
they had left, he gravely urged the necessity of starting at once for
the spot where he had cached their supplies. Among these supplies was a
coil of thin, tough rope which Jean proposed should serve in the
construction of a litter on which to carry Tom. Once that important
detail had been attended to, they would be able to proceed much faster
toward Mr. Mackenzie's camp.

Again old Jean had insisted that Tom must postpone the telling of his
story until they were well on the way to camp. "You talk now, you get
tire', M'sieu' Tom," he said with a solemn wagging of his gray head. "We
know wil' man have shut you up an' keep you hid for long time. It is
enough to know. We are satisfy." Privately Jean was alive with curiosity
regarding the mysterious "wil' man," yet his duty to Tom came first and
he did not intend to slight it in any particular.

The hike to the cached supplies was painful for Tom Gray, yet he limped
along uncomplainingly, part of the time supported by Jean's ready arm;
then again helped over the rough spots by David. Though they had set
forth with the dawn, it was after mid-day when they reached their goal.
Almost immediately after they arrived, Jean scoured the vicinity for
enough dry wood to build a fire. Once a blaze was well started David
prepared the simple meal, while the intrepid old man turned his
attention to the construction of the litter. Armed with a hatchet he
hacked sufficient boughs from the trees with which to make it, and went
at his task with a will.

He left his task only long enough to snatch a hasty bite, then returned
to it, his wiry fingers fairly flying as he worked. When completed, the
litter would be a rude affair at best, made somewhat more comfortable by
the folded blankets which covered it. Tom, meanwhile, was rejoicing
openly over his coffee and crisp fried bacon. "It's the first square
meal I've had for over a week," he declared. "If you only knew--but I'll
have to wait to tell you. Won't I, Jean?" He called this last to Jean,
who was putting the finishing touches to the litter.

"It is for M'sieu' Tom's own good that I mak' the reques'," replied
Jean. "But for this, that you min' what ol' Jean tell you, I will give
you the rewar'." His shrewd black eyes very tender, Jean fumbled in an
inner pocket of his rough coat. Drawing forth Grace's letter he rose and
tendered it to the astonished young man.

"Now him i