and harnessed again, but directly they were fairly out of their shed the cold seemed to rouse them, and they set off at a great pace. Katherine and Miles were riding in the empty sledge now, with their snowshoes tucked in beside them. The snow-storm had spent itself; the moon shone out of a cloudless sky, while myriads of stars lent their aid to the illumination of the night. Even the cold was less noticeable than in the afternoon, when the damp wind blew off the water and the snow was falling so fast.

"It was worth while your being indiscreet for once, seeing that it has brought us out on a night like this," Miles said, as he crouched low in the sledge, holding on with both thickly mittened hands, for Katherine was driving, and the dogs were going with leaps and bounds, which made the sledge bounce and sway in a very erratic fashion.

"You won't say the indiscretion was worth while if it turns out that we are the second arrivals and not the first," Katherine answered. But her tone was buoyant and hopeful; for she had little doubt about getting to the scene of her father's accident before Oily Dave and Stee Jenkin had succeeded in locating the spot.

"Wolves! listen to them!" exclaimed Miles, as a hideous yapping and howling sounded across the snowy waste.

"They are a good way off though, and I brought a pair of Father's revolvers in case of accident," Katherine replied, her heart beating a little quicker, although in reality she would much rather have met two or three wolves just then than have encountered Oily Dave and the man who had wanted to buy the Black Crow tobacco.

"I'm glad you thought to bring them," said Miles. "Nick Jones told me the wolves are uncommonly hungry for so early in the year, and they are in great numbers too. He trapped twenty last week."

"That means twenty less to bother us to-night, which is a great comfort," she answered, laughing nervously, for the yapping and howling seemed to be coming nearer and nearer. Then, recognizing a landmark, she cried out joyfully: "Oh, here is the place, and there hangs the broken snowshoe!"

"What is that?" cried Miles sharply, as a shadowy something slid away out of sight among the trees, a something that was so much like its surroundings as to be hardly distinct from them.

"A wolf. Look at the dogs. Mind what you are about, Miles, or they'll bolt!" she called quickly. They were both on the ground now, and the boy was trying to hold in the dogs, which were barking, raging, howling, and whining, making a violent uproar, and all striving to get free in order to rush at that something which had slid out of sight among the trees a minute before.

"We must tie them up. I can't hold the brutes. They pull as if they were mad," said Miles breathlessly, while the dogs struggled and fought, nearly dragging him off his feet, as he tried to keep them from dashing away in pursuit of what they deemed a legitimate quarry.

Katherine swung a rope with a running noose over the head and shoulders of the leader, a huge white dog with a black patch on its back like a saddle.

"There, my fine fellow; now perhaps you will understand that this is not playtime, but a working day extending into the night," she said, as she patted the great beast in an affectionate manner to show that it was repression, not punishment, which was intended by the tightening of the rope.

The dog whined, licking her mitten, but left off struggling, as if it realized the uselessness of such a course. The other dogs were fastened in like manner, for they had all been trained to hunt wolves, and might bolt at an unexpected moment, wrecking the sledge and scattering the things which were loaded upon it. Then came ten minutes of hard work clearing away the snow and getting at the packages which Katherine had been obliged to cache a few hours before. One package had been torn open, and its contents scattered, which showed that the wolf had already started thieving operations; so that even if Oily Dave and his companion had contemplated no raid on the cache, there would not have been much left later which was worth carrying away.

"I don't like you having to draw that sledge. Suppose it overruns you, and you get hurt, like Father did this afternoon," Miles said in a troubled tone, as Katherine prepared to go forward with the hand sledge, while he followed behind with the dogs.

"I don't intend to let it overrun me, so there is no need to worry. In fact there is much more danger for you if the dogs hear the wolves and try to bolt. But let us get along as fast as we can, or Nellie will be in a fine state of anxiety about us," Katherine replied. Then, gathering the lines of the sledge round her arms, as her father had taught her, she set out at a good pace, followed by Miles and the dogs.

For a time little was to be heard save the creaking of the babiche lacing of the snowshoes, for the dogs were running silently, and Miles, saving his breath for the work of getting along, was controlling them merely by dumb show, flourishing the whip to hold them back when they took on a spurt, or beckoning them along when they showed signs of lagging. They were less than a mile from home, and going well, when suddenly a hideous uproar broke out near at hand—the long-drawn howling of wolves, human shouts and cries, and the crack of a revolver.

CHAPTER IV

A Night of Rough Work

"Phil, where is Katherine?" asked Mrs. Burton, coming out of her father's room about half an hour after the two had started to bring home the stores.

"She has gone to help Miles to do some work outside, though what it can be I'm sure I don't know," grumbled Phil, who was sleepy and wanted to get to bed. He had washed the supper things after a fashion, had cleared up the kitchen for the night, according to his own ideas of tidiness, and now was sitting in the rocking-chair by the stove, trying very hard to keep his eyes open.

"Oh dear, how unwise of her!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton in a plaintive tone. "I am always so afraid for her to go outside at night when it is freezing so sharply, for her face would be quite spoiled if she were to get it frostbitten, and she is so pretty."

"Is she?" Phil's voice had a drowsy drawl, as if the subject of Katherine's looks had very little interest for him, as indeed it had. But an unexpected lurch of the chair, coming at that moment, landed him in a squirming heap on the floor.

"Oh, Phil, I am so sorry that I upset you, dear, but I had to catch at the chair to save myself from falling over the broom! What made you leave it lying on the floor?" asked Mrs. Burton, who had been the innocent cause of his collapse.

Phil rose to his feet and dusted the ashes from the sleeve of his jacket with a rueful air. "Did I leave the broom there? Oh, I suppose I forgot it! I remember I had it to sweep up the fireplace, because I could not find a brush."

"There is the brush hanging close to the stove," remarked Mrs. Burton. Then she broke out again: "I wonder what Katherine can be doing out-of-doors at this time of the night, and Miles too?"

"Perhaps they are gone to a surprise party. Don't you remember there was one at Astor M'Kree's last winter?" suggested Phil, whose tumble had dispelled some of his sleepiness, although he still talked in a drowsy tone, and rumpled his hair wildly all over his head.

"Katherine would not go to a surprise party with Father lying in such a condition," replied Mrs. Burton severely. Then she went on: "Besides, she must be pretty well worn out, poor girl, for she has done thirty miles on snowshoes since the morning, with all the worry and trouble of