pressure of her arms, the smothering softness of her hair. It was not
until he again heard approaching sounds that he returned once more to a
full consciousness of the mysterious thing that had happened. He heard
first of all the creaking of a toboggan on the hard crust, then the
pattering of dogs' feet, and after that the voices of men. The sounds
stopped on the trail a dozen feet away from him.

With a strange thrill he recognized Croisset's voice.

"You must be sure that you make no mistake," he heard the half-breed
say. "Go to the waterfall at the head of the lake and heave down a big
rock where the ice is open and the water boiling. Track up the snow with
a pair of M'seur Howland's high-heeled boots and leave his hat tangled
in the bushes. Then tell the superintendent that he stepped on the stone
and that it rolled down and toppled him into the chasm. They could never
find his body--and they will send down for a new engineer in place of
the lost M'seur."

Stupefied with horror, Howland strained his ears to catch the rest of
the cold-blooded scheme which he was overhearing, but the voices grew
lower and he understood no more that was said until Croisset, coming
nearer, called out:

"Help me with the M'seur before you go, Jackpine. He is a dead weight
with all those rawhides about him."

As coolly as though he were not more than a chunk of stovewood,
Croisset and the Indian came through the bushes, seized him by the head
and feet, carried him out into the trail and laid him lengthwise on
the sledge.