Johnny jumped to his feet.  “Eats,” he murmured.

But then there came that other sound again, the crack crack of hoofs.  He peered through the swirling snow, counting his reindeer.  They were all there.  Here was a mystery.  It was not long in solving.  He had but to glance to the south of his reindeer to detect some dark object bulking large in the night.

“A deer!” he muttered.  “A wild reindeer!  What luck!”

It was true.  The wolf had doubtless been stalking him.  Creeping stealthily forward, foot by foot, Johnny was at last within easy range of the creature.  His automatic cracked twice in quick succession and a moment later he was exulting over two hundred pounds of fresh meat, food for many days.

Twenty hours later, Johnny found himself sitting sleepily on the edge of one of the deer sleds.  The reindeer, unhitched and tethered, were digging beneath the snow for moss.  The storm had subsided and once more they had journeyed far.  The Jap girl was buried deep beneath the furs on the other sled.

Johnny was puzzling his brain at this time over one thing.  They had followed a half covered, ancient trail due north for two days.  Then a fresh track had joined the old one.  It was the track of a man with dog team and sled.  This they had followed due north again, and two hours ago, while the deer were resting and feeding, Johnny had detected the Jap girl in the act of measuring the footprints of the man who drove the dog team.

She had appeared troubled and embarrassed when she knew that he had seen what she was doing.  Notwithstanding the fact that there had been no sign of guilt or treachery in her frank brown eyes, Johnny had been perplexed.  What secret was she hiding from him?  What did she know, or seek to know, about this man whose trail had joined theirs at an angle?  Could it be?  No, Johnny dismissed the thought which came to his mind.

He had dismissed all his perplexities, and was about to abandon himself to three winks of sleep, when something on the horizon attracted his attention.  A mere dot at first, it grew rapidly larger.

“Dog team or reindeer on our trail,” he thought.  “I wonder.”

From beneath his parka he drew his long blue automatic.  After examining its clip, he laid it down on the sled with two other clips beside it.  Then he drew the two knives also from his belt; the one he had secured at the time of the street fight in Vladivostok, the other had belonged to the Chukche who had attacked him.  For the twentieth time he noted that they were exactly alike, blade forging, hilt carving, and all.  And again, this realization set him to speculating.  How had this brace of knives got so widely separated?  How had this one found its way to the heart of a Chukche tribe?  Why had the Chukches attempted to murder the Japanese girl and himself?  Had it been with the hope of securing wealth from their simple luggage, or had they been bribed to do it?  Once more his brain was in a whirl.