Tillie crouched beside Reivers as, an hour later, he stood on the edge of the Dead Lands, and triumphantly crooned the saga of his success. The gold belt of Shanty Moir hung heavily over his shoulder, its great weight constantly reminding him of the fortune that it contained. The dogs were held in leash, eager to be quit of the harsh rock-chasms through which they had just travelled, and to strike their lope on a trail over the open country beyond. MacGregor sat wearily on one side of the sledge. The exertions and excitement of the afternoon had exhausted him in his weakened condition. He sat slumped together, only half conscious of what was going on. In a moment he would be sound asleep. And Reivers had the gold. He had succeeded. He had the gold, and he had a supply of food and a strong, fresh team of dogs eager for the trail. All that was necessary was to turn the dogs toward the south. Two, three, four days’ travelling and he would strike the railroad. And the railroad ran to tide-water, and on the water steamboats would carry him away to the world he had planned to return to. It was very simple, as simple as had been Tillie’s scheme for getting rid of Moir. But he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to do just one thing now, above all others, and that was what he set out to do. He stood down and strapped the belt of gold around MacGregor’s middle. MacGregor was sound asleep now, so he placed him on the sledge and bound him carefully in place. Tillie’s chant died down in astonishment. “We take the old one with us?” she asked. “We do,” said Reivers. “Hi-yah! Together there! Mush, mush up!” To Tillie’s joy he turned the dogs to the northwest, in the direction of the camp of her people. The Snow-Burner was lost to her; she knew that, when he had refused her help with Shanty Moir; but it was something to have him come back to the camp. Reivers, driving hard and straight all night, brought his team up the river-bed to Tillie’s camp in the morning. MacGregor was out of his head by then, and for the day they stopped to rest and feed. Reivers sat in the big tepee alone with MacGregor and fed him soft food which the old squaws had prepared. In the evening he again tied the old man and the belt of gold to the sledge and hitched up the dogs. Tillie had read her doom in his eyes, but nevertheless she came out to the sledge prepared to follow. “You do not come any farther,” said Reivers as he picked up the dog-whip. Tillie nodded. “I know. With gold the Snow-Burner can be a great man among the white women. Will the Snow-Burner come back—some time?” “I will never come back.” “Ah-hh-hh!” Tillie’s breath came fiercely. “So there is one white woman, then. If I had known——” But Reivers was whipping and cursing the dogs and hurrying out of hearing. MacGregor, clear-headed from the rest and food, but still weak, lifted his head and looked around as the sledge sped over the frozen snow.