the time that passed during the rest of the trip.

But it ended at last. The machine stopped, Helen knew not where, and
she was assisted out by the two men, who led her, still blindfolded,
along a fairly smooth trail, up the side of a mountain or steep hill,
then along a fairly level stretch, until at last the prisoner knew
that she was passing under a canopy or roof of some sort, for there
was no snow under foot. Moreover their footfalls produced a sound,
somewhat of the nature of a soft resonant reverberation of a million
tiny echoes.

But presently they were out in the open again, as evidenced by the
snow and the brisker atmosphere, and Helen shrewdly observed to
herself:

"That was a tunnel, I bet anything."

Two hundred feet farther up another gentle incline they reached a
place of habitation and entered. Helen had no idea as to the
appearance of the exterior, but when the bandage was removed from her
eyes, and she was able to look about her, she made a clever surmise,
not very far from the truth, that she was in a log cabin.

Every inch of the walls and ceiling, except the windows and doors,
was plastered. The doors and windows were fitted in the crudest kind
of casing. A few unframed, colored pictures were pasted on the walls.
The furniture of the room consisted of a few chairs, a table and an
old trunk. A kerosene lamp on the table lighted the room.

"Here's one of them, Mag," said Bill, addressing a large, coarse