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left behind him； was Surprise Lakesomewhere； he knew not where； for a
hundred hours of driftage and struggle through blinding driving snow； had
concealed his course from him； and he knew not in what direction lay
BEHIND。 It was as if he had just emerged from a nightmare。 He was
not sure that four days or a week had passed。 He had slept with the dogs；
fought across a forgotten number of shallow divides； followed the
windings of weird canyons that ended in pockets； and twice had managed
to make a fire and thaw out frozen moose…meat。 And here he was； well…
fed and well…camped。 The storm had passed； and it had turned clear and
cold。 The lay of the land had again become rational。 The creek he was
on was natural in appearance； and trended as it should toward the
southwest。 But Surprise Lake was as lost to him as it had been to all its
seekers in the past。
Half a day's journey down the creek brought him to the valley of a
larger stream which he decided was the McQuestion。 Here he shot a
moose； and once again each wolf…dog carried a full fifty…pound pack of
meat。 As he turned down the McQuestion； he came upon a sled… trail。
The late snows had drifted over； but underneath； it was well…packed by
travel。 His conclusion was that two camps had been established on the
McQuestion； and that this was the connecting trail。 Evidently； Two
Cabins had been found and it was the lower camp； so he headed down the
stream。
It was forty below zero when he camped that night； and he fell asleep
wondering who were the men who had rediscovered the Two Cabins； and
if he would fetch it next day。 At the first hint of dawn he was under way；
easily following the half…obliterated trail and packing the recent snow with
his webbed shoes so that the dogs should not wallow。
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And then it came； the unexpected； leaping out upon him on a bend of
the river。 It seemed to him that he heard and felt simultaneously。 The
crack of the rifle came from the right； and the bullet； tearing through and
across the shoulders of his drill parka and woollen coat； pivoted him half
around with the shock of its impact。 He staggered on his twisted snow…
shoes to recover balance； and heard a second crack of the rifle。 This time
it was a clean miss。 He did not wait for more； but plunged across the
snow for the sheltering trees of the bank a hundred feet away。 Again and
again the rifle cracked； and he was unpleasantly aware of a trickle of warm
moisture down his back。
He climbed the bank； the dogs floundering behind； and dodged in
among the trees and brush。 Slipping out of his snow…shoes； he wallowed
forward at full length and peered cautiously out。 Nothing was to be seen。
Whoever had shot at him was lying quiet among the trees of the opposite
bank。
〃If something doesn't happen pretty soon；〃 he muttered at the end of
half an hour； 〃I'll have to sneak away and build a fire or freeze my feet。
Yellow Face； what'd you do； lying in the frost with circulation getting
slack and a man trying to plug you？〃
He crawled back a few yards； packed down the snow； danced a jig that
sent the blood back into his feet； and managed to endure another half hour。
Then； from down the river； he heard the unmistakable jingle of dog…bells。
Peering out； he saw a sled round the bend。 Only one man was with it；
straining at the gee…pole and urging the dogs along。 The effect on Smoke
was one of shock； for it was the first human he had seen since he parted
from Shorty three weeks before。 His next thought was of the potential
murderer concealed on the opposite bank。
Without exposing himself； Smoke whistled warningly。 The man did
not hear； and came on rapidly。 Again； and more sharply； Smoke whistled。
The man whoa'd his dogs； stopped； and had turned and faced Smoke when
the rifle cracked。 The instant afterwards； Smoke fired into the wood in
the direction of the sound。 The man on the river had been struck by the
first shot。 The shock of the high velocity bullet staggered him。 He
stumbled awkwardly to the sled； half… falling； and pulled a rifle out from
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under the lashings。 As he strove to raise it to his shoulder； he crumpled at
the waist and sank down slowly to a sitting posture on the sled。 Then；
abruptly； as the gun went off aimlessly； he pitched backward and across a
corner of the sled…load； so that Smoke could see only his legs and
stomach。
From below came more jingling bells。 The man did not move。
Around the bend swung three sleds； accompanied by half a dozen men。
Smoke cried warningly； but they had seen the condition of the first sled；
and they dashed on to it。 No shots came from the other bank； and Smoke；
calling his dogs to follow； emerged into the open。 There were
exclamations from the men； and two of them； flinging off the mittens of
their right hands； levelled their rifles at him。
〃Come on； you red…handed murderer； you；〃 one of them； a black…
bearded man； commanded； 〃an' jest pitch that gun of yourn in the snow。〃
Smoke hesitated； then dropped his rifle and came up to them。
〃Go through him； Louis； an' take his weapons；〃 the black…bearded man
ordered。
Louis； a French…Canadian voyageur； Smoke decided； as were four of
the others； obeyed。 His search revealed only Smoke's hunting knife；
which was appropriated。
〃Now； what have you got to say for yourself； Stranger； before I shoot
you dead？〃 the black…bearded man demanded。
〃That you're making a mistake if you think I killed that man；〃 Smoke
answered。
A cry came from one of the voyageurs。 He had quested along the
trail and found Smoke's tracks where he had left it to take refuge on the
bank。 The man explained the nature of his find。
〃What'd you kill Joe Kinade for？〃 he of the black beard asked。
〃I tell you I didn't〃 Smoke began。
〃Aw； what's the good of talkin'。 We got you red…handed。