was going to ask you to pour it out in the snow for fear that the men
might drink too much. But that might not be wise. They know I have
it, and if they do not get it they might become ugly."

It took Jean some time to carry and drag in the supplies and stack them
in a corner near the door. She understood fairly well the meaning of
this, and it filled her heart with a nameless fear. This was increased
when she had with difficulty brought in the rum, and stood panting
after the exertion.

"There is a strong bolt on the door of your room," Norman explained.
"It might be well to keep it fastened when the men are here, for one
can never tell what might happen."

"You think there will be danger, then?" Jean asked, as she sat down in
the big chair.

"There is always danger more or less with those men around. When I was
well I could keep them within bounds. But now I am helpless. And,
besides, you are here, and that makes a difference."

"I must keep out of sight, then."

"It might be just as well. I am afraid that Dave has told the men
about you, so they will be anxious to see my--my daughter."

Jean asked no further questions, but her face was very pale and her
heart beat fast. She felt more helpless than she had been when with
her Indian captors upon the river. What could she do to defend
herself? She thought of the guns in the other room, and wondered if