Old Jean looked reflective. "Once I know wil' man," he remarked. "First time I see him, jus' lak' any man. He great, big man; long black hair, an' strong; very strong. 'Bout six foot, three inch. He live in little cabin, 'bout hundred mile from here, wit' his son. Every year they go Canada an' hunt. Then come back and sell skins. My, how that man love that son! One day storm come an' tree fall on son. Kill him dead. Then the father go wil'; crazy in the 'aid. All his black hair turn white. After that I never see him again. Mebbe dead, too." "I hope nothing like that happened to good old Tom." David shuddered. "Jean, honestly, do you think we'll ever find the boy?" "_Le bon Dieu_ know," Jean crossed himself reverently. "I don't think much of the sheriff up here," continued David. "He simply laid down on his job after the first week or two. After Mrs. Gray had offered a reward he made quite a lot of fuss. But it all died out quickly. Blaisdell's done his best, but this isn't his kind of a job. Half a dozen so-called woodsmen up here have tried their hand at it, too. I spoke to the sheriff about this very piece of woods that we've invaded, but he claimed he'd gone all over the ground. I don't believe it, though. He gave me to understand that he thought the whole affair was very queer. He even asked me if Mrs. Gray wasn't holding back something. He hinted that she and Tom might have quarreled over family matters and that Tom was keeping out of sight on purpose to worry her. I reminded him that Tom had come up here to help Mr. Mackenzie out and told him a few things about Tom that ought to have changed his opinion. But I don't think he believed me. He's a bull-headed kind of fellow that would never admit himself in the wrong," ended David in disgust. "I hav' seen many such," commented Jean soberly. "Anyhow we are here. W'en we hav' finish the breakfast then we start again. Mebbe some good come to-day." "I hope so." David's voice sounded a trifle weary. It was hard indeed to meet with such continued discouragement. Breakfast finished, the seekers again took up their quest. Noon found them not more than three miles away from the spot where they had breakfasted. The necessity of halting frequently to inspect some especially tangled bit of undergrowth or suspicious looking covert large enough to conceal the body of a man, made their progress painfully slow. Toward the middle of the afternoon, a cold rain set in, thereby adding to the discomforts of their march. Although it was early October, the great trees above their heads were partially stripped of their foliage, thus offering them little protection from the unceasing drizzle. "This is awful, Jean!" exclaimed David Nesbit, as two hours later, drenched to the skin, the wayfarers huddled together under a giant oak tree to consider the situation. "We ought to try to find some sort of shelter for the night. It will soon be dark and we can't go on then. Have you any idea where we are?"