That night they came to a little lake, perhaps a mile wide, and on the opposite shore discerned a wretched shanty. They decided to camp here, for the dogs were weak with exhaustion. Rainy attended to the unharnessing of the animals and the unpacking of the sledge, while Donald went out to cut wood for the fire and boughs to sleep on. When he returned and entered the cabin, he found the Indian examining something closely. It proved to be a charred ember. Rainy fingered it and smelled it, and finally announced that it was not more than a day old. The two then went outside, and circled slowly about the shanty.
Here, forty miles from Fort Severn, the blizzard had been light, and the snowfall trifling. Presently, they uncovered faint tracks leading away southwest, and judged, from the edge of the crust where the sledge had occasionally broken through, that they were not older than thirty-six hours.
Once more, the mania for travel seized McTavish, and he was all for setting out on the trail that night. But Peter Rainy restrained him, showing him the folly of such action, since both dogs and men were unfit for work.
In the cabin, at one time, there had been a bunk. The flat shelf still projected out from the wall. Donald entered with an armful of spruce boughs, and threw them on the bunk. While he was arranging them to a semblance of smoothness for the blankets, his hand struck something hard and cold. He picked the object up and held it to the light of the fire. Then, with a cry, he leaned forward, and examined it intently.
It was a bone button from Jean Fitzpatrick's fur outer garment.
That it was hers, there could be no doubt, for the reason that in the very center was a tiny raised flag-pole and flag, the latter enameled red—the banner of the Hudson Bay Company. The buttons were a curiosity, and were the work of an old squaw for whom Jean had done many little kindnesses.
How had it got here? There was but one explanation: Maria, Tom, her full-blooded Indian son, and Jean had occupied this lonely cabin.
“Surely it is hers,” said Peter Rainy, examining the object. “But see, Captain. It's now six days since they took her away. The trail going from here was made day before yesterday. Why should they have stayed here so long?”
“I don't know—I don't know!” muttered Donald, walking up and down outside the door excitedly. “But we have no other clew; we must follow this one. With two women they are traveling slowly. We can overtake them.”
During the night, the sky cleared, and, when McTavish woke after several hours of troubled sleep, the stars were bright. It was four o'clock; but he routed out his whole establishment, and in less than an hour they were on their way, so that by daylight they had put fifteen miles behind them.