Captain Ecuyer listened to James Morris’s story with interest, and when Colonel Bouquet came in he did the same. “I do not see what can be done at present,” said the commandant of the fort. “I cannot send any men out to your trading post this winter. It may be that we can do something in the spring.” This was what Colonel Bouquet said also, and the trader had to accept it as final. But the delay chafed him. “I have an idea of making my way to the post,” said he to his son. “I know it will not be a very nice trip at this time of year, but I would like to arrive there before Jean Bevoir has a chance to settle down and make himself at home.” “If you go of course you will take me along,” returned Dave, instantly. “No, I was thinking of taking only two or three of the old trappers. You see, if we cannot get into the post we shall have to stay in the forest and get our living as best we can, and that will be hard,—if the winter proves a severe one.” The matter was talked over for a week, but nothing came of it just then. But at the end of the next week James Morris arranged to go west, taking Tony Jadwin, Peaceful Jones, and a trapper named Pomeroy with him. They elected to go on foot, taking some snowshoes with them. Each was to carry a good stock of provisions and also plenty of ammunition. “If we get into the post and have no further trouble, I will send Pomeroy back with the news and also with a letter of instructions,” said James Morris. “And supposing you can’t get into the post?” said Dave. “Then we may stay in that vicinity, or we may come back—just as I think best.” “But you will send some kind of word, won’t you?” inquired Henry. “Yes, I will send word of some kind before the New Year,” answered his uncle. The two youths saw the expedition well on its way, going out with it a distance of three miles. Then came an affectionate parting, and those moving to the west were lost to view down the snowy forest trail. “I wish I was going along,” said Dave, with a deep sigh. “The same here, Dave,” answered his cousin. “But your father did not wish it, and so we shall have to stay at the fort. I hope all goes well with them.” “Yes, I shouldn’t wish father to fall into the clutches of Jean Bevoir. Oh, how I despise that rascal!” The youths had decided to try a bit of hunting while they were out. Henry led the way into the forest, and they wandered along until they came to the tracks of some wild animal. “What is it?” asked Dave. “It stumps me,” answered his cousin. “It is certain not the track of a deer.” “Maybe it’s a bear, or a buffalo.” “I don’t think so. But whatever it is, it was carrying something in its mouth.” “How do you know that?” “Don’t you see the occasional dip in the snow alongside of the trail? The load was heavy and sagged down at times.” “Shall we follow the trail up?” “I’m willing.”