“The leader stopped and growled, at the edge of an open crack.  His instinct warned him of danger, but I knew I could not get up the rough bank with my lame foot, and drove him past.  As I limped by his side with the whip, I thought I heard the current gurgle under the ice, but we went on, the dogs snuffing and treading cautiously.  Then there was a soft thud and a splash, the team was jerked back and I saw that the sledge had vanished.  I suppose it had broken through a snow-bridge that our weight had shaken.

“I scrambled back a yard or two and looked down into the dark gap—­I could not run because of my galled foot.  Part of the sledge was covered by fallen snow, but the fore end rested on something and I leaned down and seized my blanket.  There was a bag of food beneath it that I tried to reach, but perhaps I shook the sledge, which began to slip down, and I saw the dogs roll among the traces as they were dragged towards the hole.  The leader clawed desperately at the snow, howling as if he begged my help, and I felt that I must save him.  You have heard a dog howl in fear or pain?”

“Yes,” said Thirlwell, “it makes a strong appeal.  But I suppose you remembered what you risked by leaving the food?”

“I cut the trace,” Father Lucien went on.  “Another mass of snow fell and the sledge sank out of sight.  I imagine the stream swept it under the ice, for I could only see the dark water foam.  All the food I had except a bannock in my pocket was lost.  I forgot the team for a few moments and when I looked up they had gone.”

He paused and Thirlwell made a sign of sympathy.  “A nerve-shaking jar!  But what became of the dogs?”

“I think they were afraid of the ice.  If my camp had been made and a fire lighted, they might have come in for warmth, but I was not their master, and perhaps they took the back trail to the spot we started from.  Well, as I could not follow, I limped on until I reached the pine clump, where I slept, and then dragged myself across the divide to this corner among the rocks.  I knew I could go no farther and sat down to wait—­”

Father Lucien’s voice was calm and Thirlwell knew his courage had not failed.  The man had often risked death when duty sent him out across the snowy wilds.

“Anyhow,” said Thirlwell, “I’m glad I found you before it was too late.  It’s something I and others will long be thankful for.”

Father Lucien smiled deprecatingly.  “If I had starved, another would have filled my place.  Men fall on the trail, but the work goes forward.  Perhaps I have said too much about my danger, but I did so because of a curious thing that happened last night.  I slept as well as usual for some hours, and then opened my eyes.  I think, however, I was not quite awake, or else my brain was dull, because I felt no surprise although a man was in my camp.  The fire had burned low and he stood back in the gloom where I could not see his face, but a dry branch broke into flame and the light fell on me.  The way the man turned his head indicated that he was looking about the camp, and he must have seen that I had nothing but my blanket.  But he was silent and did not come forward.”