This trail followed close along the base of the ridge upon which he
had fought the missionary, joining that of Jean de Gravois miles
beyond. Jan climbed the ridge. From where he had made his attack, he
followed the almost obliterated trail of the Frenchman and his
Malemutes until he came to the lake; and then he knew that Jean de
Gravois had spoken the truth, for he found the missionary with his
face half buried in the slush, stark dead.

He no longer had to guess at the meaning of Jean's words. The bullet-
hole under the dead man's arms was too large to escape eyes like
Jan's. Into the little hidden world which he treasured in his heart
there came another face, to remain always with him--the face of the
courageous little forest dandy who was hurrying with his bride back
into the country of the Athabasca.

Jan allowed his dogs to walk all the way back to the post, and it was
dusk before they arrived. Maballa had prepared supper, and Cummins was
waiting for him. He glanced sharply at the boy. There was a smile on
Jan's lips, and there was something in his eyes which Cummins had
never seen there before. From that night they were no longer filled
with the nervous, glittering flashes which at times had given him an
appearance almost of madness. In place of their searching suspicions,
there was a warmer and more companionable glow, and Cummins felt the
effect of the change as he ate his caribou steak and talked once more
entirely of Melisse.

A Cree trapper had found Jan's violin in the snow, and had brought it
to Maballa. Before Cummins finished his supper, the boy began to play,
and he continued to play until the lights at the post went out and