Into the crawling wilderness had come this masterless master of men, working ever to the west and south. Still he heard new tales of the Star Woman, that half-mythical person whom none had seen but of whom all knew, and who was said to rule somewhere beyond--always beyond; and as he quested forward, slowly winning his way from tribe to tribe, from frozen swamp to frozen hills, the wild tales gradually settled into more sober legends. Now it appeared that the Star Woman was no ruler of vast regions, but a woman of mystical power and influence, a sorceress who lived somewhere near the country of the Dacotah or Nadouisioux; yet even among far peoples, her name was mighty. Ahead of Crawford flitted the word that he sought this Star Woman, protecting him and gaining guides. More, the Star of Dreams that hung upon his breast had swiftly won him the respect and fear of the tribes. To them it was medicine of the strongest, obviously connected with the Star Woman, so that they held Crawford as a man to be aided on his way to her and furthered in all things. Thus, at least, had gone events; but now he encountered check. He had sent ahead to get guides from the Stone Men, or Assiniboines, but these had not met him; day after day, only emptiness and bleak snow-desolation greeted him, with no signal smokes on the horizon. The Crees had brought him into that debatable land which they termed the abode of dancing dead men, where the blood of slain folk and the power of devils made all things desolate, where Cree and Stone Man disputed roving bands of Sauteurs or Dacotahs from the south. It was the dread seventh year, the year of famine, and during the past four days the party had found no game, not even a lone rabbit. Yet, on all sides of their line of march, were recent snowshoe trails, so that the Crees whispered of spirits and were sore adread. His little band were weak with hunger and fatigue. The Englishmen were terrified by this drear land, while the Irishmen talked of banshees and good people. The Cree guides were now held only by fear of Crawford and the dark Frontin; when their fear of spirits bore down their fear of things physical, they would decamp. Then what, in this drear region which Crawford thought himself the first white man to visit? While Crawford stood there staring bleakly along the valley, the answer came with unexpected suddenness. The Cree trail-breaker had returned, passing Crawford and Frontin, and rejoined the weary men about the fire. From the trees just ahead, there rose a deep voice that spoke in English. “Crawford! Come for’ard and talk wi’ me.” Frontin’s jaw fell. Crawford stared at the trees, utterly aghast for an instant, until he saw a man step from the trees and start forward, across an open space of a hundred yards. A man--a white man! “Devil take me! Is it real or a dream?” murmured Frontin. “Real.” Crawford came to life abruptly, recovering from his astounded surprise. “Come.”