“She took grit,” said he, “but I made out to do un.”

With the joy of freedom and the anxiety to escape his tormentors, Jamie was oblivious to the pain of his burned and blistered wrists.  He could use both hands and feet, and was confident that he would soon find the camp and his friends.

Jamie ran as fast as his short legs would carry him.  The snow was nearly knee deep, but it was soft and feathery and he scarcely gave it thought at first.  He had no doubt that he knew exactly in which direction camp lay, and it never entered his head that he might go wrong or lose his way as he dashed through the woods at the best speed of which he was capable.

Presently the impediment of the snow compelled him to reduce his gait to a walk, and for nearly an hour he pushed on in what he supposed was a straight line, when he came suddenly upon fresh axe cuttings and a moment later saw through the thickly falling snow a familiar lean-to.  He stopped in consternation and fright, scarcely knowing which way to turn.  He was within fifty feet of the two desperate men from whom he had so recently fled.  In the storm he had made a complete circuit.

The men were still soundly sleeping, and instinctively Jamie backed away.  He had lost a full hour of valuable time.  The men might awake at any moment, discover his absence and trail him and overtake him in the snow.

These thoughts flashed through Jamie’s mind, and in wild panic he turned and ran until at length exhaustion brought him to a halt.

“They’ll sure be cotchin’ me,” he panted, “and I’m not knowin’ the way in the snow!  I’ll be goin’ right around and comin’ back again to the same place if I don’t look out!  I can’t bide here,” he continued in desperation.  “I’ll have to go somewheres else or they’ll sure cotch me!”

Bewildered and frightened Jamie looked wildly about him.  Then he bethought himself of the compass in his pocket.  Eagerly drawing it forth he held it in his hand and studied its face.

“The Bay’s to the suth’ard, whatever,” he calculated.  “If the Bay’s to the suth’ard the brook’s to the east’ard.  I’ll be lettin’ the compass pilot me to the east’ard.  ’Twill take me the right direction whatever.”

Levelling the compass carefully in his hand so that the needle swung freely he found the east, and as rapidly as his little legs would carry him set out again in his effort to escape the two sleeping men and to find camp and his friends.

At intervals he stopped to consult his compass.  Then he would hurry forward again as fast as ever he could go through the snow, looking behind him fearfully, half expecting each time to see the men in close pursuit, and always with the dread that a gruff voice in the rear would command him to halt, or that a rifle bullet would be sent after him without warning.

As time passed and there was no indication that he was followed, Jamie began to feel some degree of security.  Because of the storm it was unlikely that the men would venture upon the Bay.  They had kept late hours drinking at the bottle, and unless they were awakened by the cold they would in all probability sleep late and therefore not discover his absence until the thickly falling snow had so far covered his trail as to preclude the possibility of them following it with certainty.