The Washington herald., 1912-07-21
CHAPTER x-continued.

iumb Isobei and her father, with on
Indian, had gone with the sledge int,
q he South. The Indian who had drive,
pn to Churchill could give no furthe
information, except that he knew TIL
colonel and his daughter had suddenl,
changed their minds about coming 4
Churchill: Perhaps they had gone I,
Nielsen House, or York Factory-o
wen to lie Pas. He did not know.
II was with heavy heart that Philil
turned his face once more toward La,
Bain. He could not repress laugh
bitter and filled with disappointment, a:
ne thought how fate was playing agains
him. III he bad not oversight he woule
have caught up with the sledges be-
tore they separated, if he had not fore
ed himself into this assignment II was
possible that Isobel and her father
would have come to him. They knew
that his detachment. was at Prince Al
bert-and they were going south. lie
had little doubt but that they were
striking for Nelson House, and from
Nelson House to civilization there was
but one trail, that which led to lie Pas
, tnd Etomarni. And Etomani was but
Two hours by rail from Prince Albert.
He carried in his breast pocket bit
pf written information which he had
obtained from the Churchill factor
that helped to soften, IN a way, the
sting of his disappointment. II was
Col. Becker's London address-and Iso-
bells, and he quickly laid out for him.
self new plans of action. He would
write to MacGregor from Lac Balm,
asking him to put in at once the nee
essary application for the purchase OF
his release from the service. As soon
IS he was free he would go to London.
He would call on Isobel like gentle
man, he told himself Perhaps, after
all, it would be the better way.
But first, there was DeBar.
As he had been feverishly anxious to
return into the North. so. now. he was
anxious to have the offair with DeBar
pver with. He lost no time at Lac
Balm, writing his letter to Inspector
MacGregor on the same day that he
arrived Only two of the dogs which
the Indian had brought into the post
were fit to travel, and with these and
light sledge on which he packed his
equipment he set off alone for Fond
du Lac. A week later he reached the
post He found Hutt, the factor, abed
with sprained knee, and the only
other men at the post were three Chip
pewayans, who could neither talk nor
understand English.
"DeBar is gone" groaned Hutt, after
Philip had made himself known. "A
rascal of Frenchnan came in last
night on his way to the Grand Rapid,
and this morning DeBar was missing.
| had the Chippewayans in, and they
say he left early in the night with his
sledge and one big bull OF a hound
that he hangs 10 like grim death. I'd
kill that damned Indian you came UP
with. ] believe it was he that told the
Frenchman there was an officer on the
way"
as the Frenchman here." asked
Philip.
Gomez groaned HUT again. turn
ing his twisted knee HE left for the
isn't another dog or sledge at the post.
This winter has been death on the dogs,
and what few are left are out on the
trap-lines. DeBar knows you're after
him, sure as fate, and he's taken
trail toward the Athabasca The best
can do is to let You have Chippe-
wayan who'll go with you as far as
the Chariot That's the end of his ter
ritory, and what you'll do after that
God only knows"
III take the chance" said Philip
swell start after dinner. I've got two
dogs, little lame, but even at that
they'll have DeBar's outfit handicapped"
1t was less than two hours later
when Philip and the Chippewayan set
of into the western forests. the Indian
ahead and Philip behind, with the dogs
and sledge between them. Both men
were travelling light Philip had even
strapped his carbine and small emer-
gency bag to the toboggan, and carried
only his service revolver at his belt
1t was 1 O'Clock and the last slanting
beams OF the winter sun, heatlesS and
only cheering to the eye, were fast
dying away before the first dull gray
approach OF desolate gloom which pre-
cedes for a few hours the northern
night. As the black forest grew more
and more somber about them, he looked
over the grayish yellow back OF the tug
ging huskies at the silent Indian strid-
ing over the outlaws trail. and a slight
shiver passed through him. a shiver
that was neither of cold nor fear. vet
which was accompanied BY an oppres-
sion which it was hard for him to shake
of. Deep down in his heart Philip
had painted a picture OF William De-
Bar-of the man-and it was a picture
TO his liking. Such men he would like
to know and to call his friends. But
now the deepening gloom, the darken
ing of the sky above, the gray picture
ahead of hinl-the Chippewayan, as
silent as the trees. the dogs pulling
noiselessly in their traces like Sinking
shadows. the ghost-like desolation
about him, all recalled him to that other
factor in the game, who was DeBar
the outlaw, and not DeBar the man.
in this same way, he imagined. Forbes.
Bannock, Fleisham. and Gresham had
begun the game, and they had lost. Per-
haps they. too. had gone out weakened
by visions of the equity of things, for
the sympathy of man for man is strong
when they meet above the .sixtieth.
DeBar was ahead of him-DeBar the |
outlaw, watching and scheming as he !
had watched and schemed when the |
other four had played against him. The |
game had grown old to him Ii had |
brought him victim after victim, and |
each victim had made of him a more |
deadly enemy of the next Perhaps at |
this moment he was not very far ahead, |
waiting to send him the way of the |
others. The thought urged new fire |
into Philips blood He spurted past |
the dogs and stopped the Chippewayan,
and then examined the trail. 1t was
old. The frost had hardened in the