The cheery warmth of the cabin, after the exertion of snowshoeing, and sitting there in a state of mental passivity, soon begot drowsiness. I piled wood on the fire, and stretched myself on the bunk. And the next minute, it seemed, I was being shaken out of my sleep—but I opened my eyes to candle light, and Barreau standing over me, smiling. “Come out of the trance, old snoozer,” he laughed cheerfully. “I’ve just got in. Suppose we go and eat before the cook shuts up shop.” “Amen to that,” I replied. I put fresh wood on the fire, which had sunk to a few dull embers, while Barreau busied himself with the wash-basin and comb. Stripped of the _parka_ that had cast confusing shadows on his features I saw that he had suffered attack from the frost. A patch of blackening skin stood over each cheek-bone. “I see you got bitten, too,” I remarked—and went on to tell him of my clash with the huskies. “I had worse than husky dogs to contend with,” he returned in a matter of fact way. “Our two Frenchmen, the cabin and everything in it, has been spirited away. I went on a scouting trip, thinking I might get track of something. I’ve laid out every night since I left here. Hull fared even worse than I; he may lose some of his toes.” “And you found——” I started to ask. “Nothing,” he replied carelessly. “I don’t think the men came to any harm. But it’s one more item on the debit side.” Over in the mess-house we had the long room to ourselves, except for the cook pottering over his fire. And in the midst of the meal I bethought me to tell Barreau of the two strangers, and Montell’s account of their mission. He laid down his knife and fork and listened intently. “Free traders, eh?” he drawled. “Not so bad for Montell, that—or has the Company taken a fresh tack, I wonder? They knew I was away. I had a feeling that we were being watched, and so had Hull. Quite an engrossing little three-cornered game, isn’t it, Bob?” We left the cookhouse without referring to this again. A light shone dully through the store window nearest us, and we walked toward our cabin, and just short of the door Barreau turned aside. “I may as well go and tell him that the brothers Grau have gone over to the enemy,” he said to me. “Come along, Bob, and see him squirm. He always does when he is stabbed in such a vital point as the purse. That’s a veritable heel of Achilles with him.” Montell was alone. He stood with his back to the fire, legs spread apart, hands clasped behind him. He looked very well satisfied with himself. His little eyes surveyed us placidly from under the blinking, puffy lids. “Well, George, you’re back, eh?” he observed. “How’s everything below?” “Very well, I dare say,” Barreau answered, during the process of making a cigarette, “from the other fellow’s point of view.” Montell’s eyelids drew a little nearer together. “How’s that?” he inquired, in his mildest manner.