She had spent happy days there, and it had been to her a place of
refuge from her pursuers. She knew that she would never see it again.
Suppose Dane should come to the lodge and find it deserted!

The journey through the forest was of necessity slow. With a pack upon
his back, and drawing a small sled loaded with blankets and food, Sam
went ahead and broke the trail. Kitty followed, also carrying a heavy
load and the musket. Jean brought up the rear, and she found the
walking quite easy owing to the excellent trail beaten down by her
thoughtful companions. She had insisted upon carrying something, so a
small pack had been made up for her and strapped in Indian fashion
across her shoulders. This pleased her, as she felt that she was doing
a little, at any rate, to help.

It was a wonderful region through which they moved. Up hill and down,
across wild meadows and frozen swamps. Most of the time they travelled
through great forest tracts, unharmed as yet by fire or axe. The
trees, thick-set and tall, reminded Jean of great masts. A brooding
silence reigned in these sombre depths, broken only by an occasional
chatter of a surprised squirrel, the whirr of a partridge, or the
cheepings of the little chickadees as they hopped from branch to
branch. Once during the afternoon they stopped and ate a little of the
cooked food Kitty had brought along. Jean was glad of this rest, for
notwithstanding the training she had received, she was quite weary.
She was most thankful when that evening Sam halted by the side of a
little brook, unslung his pack and laid it upon the snow.

"Yut-ku-lo-wut," he said.

"What does that mean?" Jean asked.