"Man! Man!" called Daddy, springing to his feet; "ye ain't a goin' to thry——" The door banged upon his words and he sagged slowly onto his rough seat.
A few minutes later Appleton stamped into the cook-shack. "Did you find him, Daddy?" he asked.
The old man shook his head. "He ain't in th' camp," he muttered. "He tuk Jack's gun whilst he slep' an' ut's huntin' he's gone—Lard hilp um!"
"Where is Bill?" the lumberman inquired.
"Av ye're quick, ye may catch um in th' office—av ye ain't Oi'm thinkin' ye niver will foind um. Be th' luk in his eye, he's gone afther th' b'y."
The lumberman plunged again into the storm and made his way to the office. It was empty. As he turned heavily away the door opened and Ethel Manton flung herself into the room, gasping with exertion. Giving no heed to her uncle's presence, the girl's glance hurriedly swept the interior.
Her hand clutched at the bosom of her snow-powdered coat as she noted that the faded mackinaw was gone from its accustomed peg and the snowshoes from their corner behind the door.
Instantly the truth flashed through her brain—Charlie was lost in the seething blizzard and somewhere out in the timber Bill Carmody was searching for him.
With a smothered moan she flung herself onto the bunk and buried her face in the blankets.