“It’s Ojibway,” induced Sam, over his shoulder, “but the man who made it has lived among the Crees.  That fits Jingoss.  Dick, it’s the man we’re after!”

It was by now almost noon.  They boiled tea at the old camp site, and tightened their belts for a stern chase.

That afternoon the head wind opposed them, exasperating, tireless in its resistance, never lulling for a single instant.  At the moment it seemed more than could be borne.  Near one o’clock it did them a great despite, for at that hour the trail came to a broad and wide lake.  There the snow had fallen, and the wind had drifted it so that the surface of the ice was white and smooth as paper.  The faint trail led accurately to the bank—­and was obliterated.

Nothing remained but to circle the shores to right and to left until the place of egress was discovered.  This meant long work and careful work, for the lake was of considerable size.  It meant that the afternoon would go, and perhaps the day following, while the man whose footsteps they were following would be drawing steadily away.

It was agreed that May-may-gwan should remain with the sledge, that Dick should circle to the right, and Sam to the left, and that all three should watch each other carefully for a signal of discovery.

But now Sam happened to glance at Mack, the wrinkle-nosed hound.  The sledge had been pulled a short distance out on the ice.  Mack, alternately whining and sniffing, was trying to induce his comrades to turn slanting to the left.

“What’s the matter with that dog?” he inquired on a sudden.

“Smells something; what’s the difference?  Let’s get a move on us,” replied Dick, carelessly.

“Hold on,” ordered Sam.

He rapidly changed the dog-harness in order to put Mack in the lead.

“Mush!  Mush on!” he commanded.

Immediately the hound, his nose low, uttered a deep, bell-like note and struck on the diagonal across the lake.

“Come on,” said Sam; “he’s got it.”

Across the white waste of the lake, against the bite of the unobstructed wind, under the shelter of the bank opposite they ran at slightly accelerated speed, then without pause into the forest on the other side.

“Look,” said the older woodsman, pointing ahead to a fallen trunk.  It was the trail.

“That was handy,” commented Dick, and promptly forgot about it.  But Sam treasured the incident for the future.

And then, just before two o’clock, the wind did them a great service.  Down the long, straight lines of its flight came distinctly the creak of snow-shoes.  Evidently the traveller, whoever he might be, was retracing his steps.

At once Sam overturned the sledge, thus anchoring the dogs, and Dick ran ahead to conceal himself.  May-may-gwan offered a suggestion.

“The dogs may bark too soon,” said she.

Instantly Sam was at work binding fast their jaws with buckskin thongs.  The girl assisted him.  When the task was finished he ran forward to join Dick, hidden in the bushes.