“Gregson told me to be sure and have the camp guarded at night, Jackpine.  What do you think about it?”

The Indian turned with a queer chuckles his lathery face wrinkled in a grin.

“Gregson—­heem ver’ much ’fraid,” he replied.  “No bad man here—­all down there and in camp.  We kep’ watch evr’ night.  Heem ’fraid—­I guess so, mebby.”

“Afraid of what?”

For a moment Jackpine was silent, half bending over the fire.  Then he held out his left hand, with the little finger doubled out of sight, and pointed to it with his other hand.

“Mebby heem finger ax’dent—­mebby not,” he said.

A dozen eager questions brought no further suggestions from Jackpine.  In fact, no sooner had the words fallen from his driver’s lips than Howland saw that the Indian was sorry he had spoken them.  What he had said strengthened the conviction which was slowly growing within him.  He had wondered at Gregson’s strange demeanor, his evident anxiety to get out of the country, and lastly at his desire not to return to the camp on the Wekusko with him.  There was but one solution that came to him.  In some way which he could not fathom Gregson was associated with the mystery which enveloped him, and adding the senior engineer’s nervousness to the significance of Jackpine’s words he was confident that the missing finger had become a factor in the enigma.  How should he find Thorne?  Surely he would give him an explanation—­if there was an explanation to give.  Or was it possible that they would leave him without warning to face a situation which was driving them back to civilization?

He went to sleep, giving no further thought to the guarding of the camp.  A piping hot breakfast was ready when Jackpine awakened him, and once more the exhilarating excitement of their swift race through the forests relieved him of the uncomfortable mental tension under which he began to find himself.  During the whole of the day Jackpine urged the dogs almost to the limit of their endurance, and early in the afternoon assured his companion that they would reach the Wekusko by nightfall.  It was already dark when they came out of the forest into a broad stretch of cutting beyond which Howland caught the glimmer of scattered lights.  At the farther edge of the clearing the Cree brought his dogs to a halt close to a large log-built cabin half sheltered among the trees.  It was situated several hundred yards from the nearest of the lights ahead, and the unbroken snow about it showed that it had not been used as a habitation for some time.  Jackpine drew a key from his pocket and without a word unlocked and swung open the heavy door.

Damp, cold air swept into the faces of the two as they stood for a moment peering into the gloom.  Howland could hear the Cree chuckling in his inimitable way as he struck a match, and as a big hanging oil lamp flared slowly into light he turned a grinning face to the engineer.