"He be, now," said Bill, "an' he were sayin' he'd be gettin' here th'
night an' maybe o' Monday night. 'Tis strange."

They ate supper and the evening wore on, and no Bob. Bill went out
several times to listen for the click of snow-shoes, but always came
back to say, "No sign o' un yet." Finally it became quite certain that
Bob was not coming that night.

"'Tis wonderful queer now, an' he promised," Bill remarked, at length.
"An' he brought down his fur last trip--a fine lot."

"Where be un?" asked Dick.

Bill looked for the fur. It was nowhere to be found, and, mystified
and astounded, he exclaimed: "Sure th' fur be gone! Bob's an' mine
too!"

"Gone!" Dick and Ed both spoke together. "An' where now?"

"Gone! His an' mine! 'Twere here when we leaves th' tilt, an' 'tis
gone now!"

The three had risen to their feet and stood looking at each other for
awhile in silence. Finally Dick spoke:

"'Tis what I was fearin'. 'Tis some o' Micmac John's work. Now where
be Bob? Somethin's been happenin' t' th' lad. Micmac John's been doin'
somethin' wi' un, an' we must find un."