By mid-afternoon they were passing over a level stretch of forest. To the right, the left, before, behind, short stout fir trees stood like sentries. The silence about them was oppressive. Not a branch quivered, not a pine needle stirred. When a white owl rose and went flap-flapping away, his wings beat noisily.
In a moment he was gone, and only the steady pat-pat of feet on the trail was to be heard.
Then slowly, as in a dream, there came to their overstrained ears a sound. Faint, indistinct, it seemed at first but the approach of wind through the treetops.
As they marched straight on this sound took form, the sound of many small tinkling bells.
“Bells!” the girl whispered, stopping short in her tracks. “Sleighbells. A dog team.” She clutched at her mackinaw as if to still the beating of her heart.
Without a word, the old man turned and marched away at right angles to the trail. There was no concealing their tracks here. The ground was level, the soft snow ten inches deep. Soon, however, they came to a barren ridge. Here they might walk upon rocks. Soon they were lost from sight in a dark clump of fir trees.
There, breathing silently, uttering not a word, they waited.
“Why all this secrecy?” Johnny asked himself. “They know; I do not.” He felt annoyed by it all. He turned to the girl, and was about to speak when, putting one hand to her lips, she pointed with the other.
A stout dog team had appeared down the trail. Behind the sled, clad in the blue trousers and red jacket of the Mounties, trotted a strapping six-footer.
“It’s all right.” A look of relief spread over Gordon Duncan’s face. “It’s Corporal Simons of the Mounted. He has been in the wilderness for months. We’ll go to meet him. He may be able to tell us of a way across the river.”
“Queer business,” Johnny thought to himself as he followed Gordon Duncan back to the trail.
“My old friend Gordon Duncan, as I live!” exclaimed the sturdy Corporal as he caught sight of them. “And Faye. But Man!” he exclaimed. “Why so far back into this great beyond? Is it safe? You with your bows and arrows.”
“No place is far in this fair land of ours,” said Gordon Duncan. “As for the bows and arrows, you’ll find fresh meat in our packs.”