"I think they were afraid of the ice. If my camp had been made and a
fire lighted, they might have come in for warmth, but I was not their
master, and perhaps they took the back trail to the spot we started
from. Well, as I could not follow, I limped on until I reached the pine
clump, where I slept, and then dragged myself across the divide to this
corner among the rocks. I knew I could go no farther and sat down to
wait--"

Father Lucien's voice was calm and Thirlwell knew his courage had not
failed. The man had often risked death when duty sent him out across the
snowy wilds.

"Anyhow," said Thirlwell, "I'm glad I found you before it was too late.
It's something I and others will long be thankful for."

Father Lucien smiled deprecatingly. "If I had starved, another would
have filled my place. Men fall on the trail, but the work goes forward.
Perhaps I have said too much about my danger, but I did so because of a
curious thing that happened last night. I slept as well as usual for
some hours, and then opened my eyes. I think, however, I was not quite
awake, or else my brain was dull, because I felt no surprise although a
man was in my camp. The fire had burned low and he stood back in the
gloom where I could not see his face, but a dry branch broke into flame
and the light fell on me. The way the man turned his head indicated that
he was looking about the camp, and he must have seen that I had nothing
but my blanket. But he was silent and did not come forward."

"An Indian?" Thirlwell asked.