The door had fallen in with a crash, and now over the crime-darkened portals of the Devil’s Nest poured the avengers, with John Adare at their head.

“Go!” gasped Jean, almost rising to his knees.  “You must meet this Lang before John Adare!”

Philip sprang to his feet.  The last of the forest people had poured through the door.  Alone he stood—­and stared.  But not through the door!  Two hundred yards away a man was flying along the edge of the forest, and he had come from behind the walls of the devil’s nest!  He recognized him.  It was Lang, the man he was to kill!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

In a moment the flying figure of the Free Trader had disappeared.  With a last glance at Jean, who was slowly sinking back into the snow, Philip dashed in pursuit.  Where Lang had buried himself in the deeper forest the trees grew so thick that Philip, could not see fifty yards ahead of him.  But Lang’s trail was distinct—­and alone.  He was running swiftly.  Philip had noticed that Lang had no rifle, He dropped his own now, and drew his pistol.  Thus unencumbered he made swifter progress.  He had expected to overtake Lang within four or five hundred yards; but minute followed minute in the mad race without another view of his enemy.  He heard a few faint shouts back in the direction of the Devil’s Nest, the barking of dogs, and half a dozen shots, the sounds growing fainter and fainter.  And then Lang’s trail led him unexpectedly into one of the foot-beaten aisles of the forest where there were the tracks of a number of men.

At this point the thick spruce formed a roof over-head that had shut out the fresh snow, and Philip lost several minutes before he found the place where Lang had left the trail to bury himself again in the unblazed forest.  Half a mile farther he followed the Free Trader’s trail without catching a glimpse of the man.  He was at least a mile from the Devil’s Nest when he heard sounds ahead of him.  Beyond a clump of balsam he heard the voices of men, and then the whine of a cuffed dog.  Cautiously he picked his way through the thick cover until he crouched close to the edge of a small open.  In an instant it seemed as though his heart had leapt from his breast into his throat, and was choking him.  Within fifty paces of him were both Lang and Thoreau.  But for a moment he scarcely saw them, or the powerful team of eight huskies, harnessed and waiting.  For on the sledge, a cloth bound about her mouth, her hands tied behind her, was Josephine!

At sight of her Philip did not pause to plan an attack.  The one thought that leapt into his brain like fire was that Lang and Thoreau had fooled the forest people—­Josephine had not been taken to the Devil’s Nest, and the two were attempting to get away with her.