"Not since mebbe it's noine o'clock in th' marnin', an' he wint to th' bunk-house. I thoucht he wuz wid Jack." Bill thought rapidly and turned to the old man. "Here, you, Daddy--get a move on now!" he ordered. "That ginger cake of yours that the kid likes, hustle some of it into a pail or a basket or something, and carry it up to the house. Tell them it's for Charlie, and you'll find out if he's there. If not, get out by saying that he's probably in the bunk-house, and get back here as quick as you can make it. There is no use in alarming the people up there--yet." "Here you, Jack, go help the old man along. It's a tough job bucking that storm even for a short distance. Come now, beat it!" After ten minutes the two returned, breathless from their short battle with the storm. "He ain't there," gasped the old man and sank down upon the wood-box with his head in his hands. "God help um, he's out in ut!" "I'm going to the office," said the foreman and stepped out into the whirling snow. "Man! Man!" called Daddy, springing to his feet; "ye ain't a goin' to thry----" The door banged upon his words and he sagged slowly onto his rough seat. A few minutes later Appleton stamped into the cook-shack. "Did you find him, Daddy?" he asked. The old man shook his head. "He ain't in th' camp," he muttered. "He tuk Jack's gun whilst he slep' an' ut's huntin' he's gone--Lard hilp um!" "Where is Bill?" the lumberman inquired. "Av ye're quick, ye may catch um in th' office--av ye ain't Oi'm thinkin' ye niver will foind um. Be th' luk in his eye, he's gone afther th' b'y." The lumberman plunged again into the storm and made his way to the office. It was empty. As he turned heavily away the door opened and Ethel Manton flung herself into the room, gasping with exertion. Giving no heed to her uncle's presence, the girl's glance hurriedly swept the interior. Her hand clutched at the bosom of her snow-powdered coat as she noted that the faded mackinaw was gone from its accustomed peg and the snowshoes from their corner behind the door. Instantly the truth flashed through her brain--Charlie was lost in the seething blizzard and somewhere out in the timber Bill Carmody was searching for him. With a smothered moan she flung herself onto the bunk and buried her face in the blankets. * * * * * The situation the foreman faced when he plunged into the whirling blizzard in search of the boy, while calling for the utmost in man's woodsmanship and endurance, was not so entirely hopeless as would appear. He remembered the intense interest evinced by the boy a few days before, when he had listened to the description of the rocky ledge which was the home of the _loup-cerviers_, and the eagerness with which he begged to visit the place.