As he looked at Aldous there was a strange look in his eyes, and during the remainder of the supper he was restless, and ate hurriedly.  When he had finished he rose and picked up his long rifle.

“There’s sheep somewhere near this basin, Johnny,” he explained.  “An’ I reckon Joanne’ll scold us if we don’t keep her in fresh meat.  I’m goin’ to bring in some mutton if there’s any to be got, an’ I probably won’t be back until after dark.”

Aldous knew that he had more to say, and he went with him a few steps beyond the camp.

And MacDonald continued in a low, troubled voice: 

“Be careful, Johnny.  Watch yo’rself.  I’m going to take a look over into the next valley, an’ I won’t be back until late.  It wasn’t a goat, an’ it wasn’t a sheep, an’ it wasn’t a bear.  It was two-legged!  It was a man, Johnny, an’ he was there to watch this trail, or my name ain’t Donald MacDonald.  Mebby he came ahead of us last night, an’ mebby he was here before that happened.  Anyway, be on your guard while I look over into the next range.”

With that he struck off in the direction of the snow-ridge, and for a few moments Aldous stood looking after the tall, picturesque figure until it disappeared behind a clump of spruce.  Swiftly he was telling himself that it was not the hunting season, and that it was not a prospector whom they had seen on the snow-ridge.  As a matter of caution, there could be but one conclusion to draw.  The man had been stationed there either by Quade or FitzHugh, or both, and had unwittingly revealed himself.

He turned toward Joanne, who had already begun to gather up the supper things.  He could hear her singing happily, and as he looked she pressed a finger to her lips and threw a kiss to him.  His heart smote him even as he smiled and waved a hand in response.  Then he went to her.  How slim and wonderful she looked in that glow of the setting sun, he thought.  How white and soft were her hands, how tender and fragile her lovely neck!  And how helpless—­how utterly helpless she would be if anything happened to him and MacDonald!  With an effort he flung the thought from him.  On his knees he wiped the dishes and pots and pans for Joanne.  When this was done, he seized an axe and showed her how to gather a bed.  This was a new and delightful experience for Joanne.

“You always want to cut balsam boughs when you can get them,” he explained, pausing before two small trees.  “Now, this is a cedar, and this is a balsam.  Notice how prickly and needlelike on all sides these cedar branches are.  And now look at the balsam.  The needles lay flat and soft.  Balsam makes the best bed you can get in the North, except moss, and you’ve got to dry the moss.”

For fifteen minutes he clipped off the soft ends of the balsam limbs and Joanne gathered them in her arms and carried them into the tepee.  Then he went in with her, and showed her how to make the bed.  He made it a narrow bed, and a deep bed, and he knew that Joanne was watching him, and he was glad the tan hid the uncomfortable glow in his face when he had finished tucking in the end of the last blanket.