The two men went out, and while Pelliter led the dogs to a lean-to behind the cabin Billy began to work with an ax and spade at the spot his comrade had pointed out to him. Ten minutes later he came to Blake. An excitement which he had tried to hide from Pelliter overcame his sense of horror as he dragged out the stiff and frozen corpse of the man. It was a terrible picture that the dead man made, with his coarse bearded face turned up to the sky and his teeth still snarling as they had snarled on the day he died. Billy knew most men who had come into the north above Churchill, but he had never looked upon Blake before. It was probable that the dead man had told a part of the truth, and that he was a sailor left on the upper coast by some whaler. He shivered as he began going through his pockets. Each moment added to his disappointment. He found a few things-- a knife, two keys, several coins, a fire-flint, and other articles-- but there was no letter or writing of any kind, and that was what he had hoped to find. There was nothing that might solve the mystery of the miracle that had descended upon them. He rolled the dead man into the grave, covered him over, and went into the cabin. Pelliter was in his usual place-- on his hands and knees, with Little Mystery astride his back. He paused in a mad race across the cabin floor and looked up with inquiring eyes. The little girl held up her arms, and MacVeigh tossed her half-way to the ceiling and then hugged her golden head close up to his chilled face. Pelliter jumped to his feet; his face grew serious as Billy looked at him over the child's tousled curls. "I found nothing-- absolutely nothing of any account," he said. He placed Little Mystery on one of the bunks and faced the other with a puzzled look in his eyes. "I wish you hadn't been in a fever on that day of the fight, Pelly," he said. "He must have said something-- something that would give us a clue." "Mebbe he did, Billy," replied Pelliter, looking with a shiver at the few things MacVeigh had placed on the cabin table. "But there's no use worrying any more about it. It ain't in reason that she's got any people up here, six hundred miles from the shack of a white man that 'd own a little beauty like her. She's mine. I found her. She's mine to keep." He sat down at the table, and MacVeigh sat down opposite him, smiling sympathetically into Pelliter's eyes. "I know you want her-- want her bad, Pelly," he said. "And I know the girl would love her. But she's got people-- somewhere, and it's our duty to find 'em. She didn't drop out of a balloon, Pelly. Do you suppose-- the dead man-- might be her father?" It was the first time he had asked this question, and he noted the other's sudden shudder of revulsion. "I've thought of that. But it can't be. He was a beast, and she-- she's a little angel. Billy, her mother must have been beautiful. And that's what made me guess-- fear--"