“And if I object—­fight?”

“You have given me your word of honor.  Up here in the big snows the keeping of that word is our first law.  If you break it I will kill you.”

“Good Lord, but you’re a cheerful companion,” exclaimed Howland, laughing in spite of himself.  “Do you know, Croisset, this whole situation has a good deal of humor as well as tragedy about it.  I must be a most important cuss, whoever I am.  Ask me who I am, Croisset?”

“And who are you, M’seur?”

“I don’t know, Jean.  Fact, I don’t.  I used to think that I was a most ambitious young cub in a big engineering establishment down in Chicago.  But I guess I was dreaming.  Funny dream, wasn’t it?  Thought I came up here to build a road somewhere through these infernal—–­no, I mean these beautiful snows—­but my mind must have been wandering again.  Ever hear of an insane asylum, Croisset?  Am I in a big stone building with iron bars at the windows, and are you my keeper, just come in to amuse me for a time?  It’s kind of you, Croisset, and I hope that some day I shall get my mind back so that I can thank you decently.  Perhaps you’ll go mad some day, Jean, and dream about pretty girls, and railroads, and forests, and snows—­and then I’ll be your keeper.  Have a cigar?  I’ve got just two left.”

“Mon Dieu!” gasped Jean.  “Yes, I will smoke, M’seur.  Is that moose steak good?”

“Fine.  I haven’t eaten a mouthful since years ago, when I dreamed that I sat on a case of dynamite just about to blow up.  Did you ever sit on a case of dynamite just about to blow up, Jean?”

“No, M’seur.  It must be unpleasant.”

“That dream was what turned my hair white, Jean.  See how white it is—­whiter than the snow!”

Croisset looked at him a little anxiously as he ate his meat, and at the gathering unrest in his ayes Howland burst into a laugh.

“Don’t be frightened, Jean,” he spoke soothingly.  “I’m harmless.  But I promise you that I’ll become violent unless something reasonable occurs pretty soon.  Hello, are you going to start so soon?”

“Right away, M’seur,” said Croisset, who was stirring up the dogs.  “Will you walk and run, or ride?”

“Walk and run, with your permission.”

“You have it, M’seur, but if you attempt to escape I must shoot you.  Run on the right of the dogs—­even with me.  I will take this side.”

Until Croisset stopped again in the middle of the afternoon Howland watched the backward trail for the appearance of the second sledge, but there was no sign of it.  Once he ventured to bring up the subject to Croisset, who did no more than reply with a hunch of his shoulders and a quick look which warned the engineer to keep his silence.  After their second meal the journey was resumed, and by referring occasionally to his compass Howland observed that the trail was swinging gradually to the eastward.  Long before dusk exhaustion compelled him to ride once more on the sledge.  Croisset seemed tireless, and under the early glow of the stars and the red moon he still led on the worn pack until at last it stopped on the summit of a mountainous ridge, with a vast plain stretching into the north as far as the eyes could see through the white gloom.  The half-breed came back to where Howland was seated on the sledge.