"The owner of the cabin—for a certainty!" answered Stane, conscious of a sudden relief from the anxiety which the morning had brought.
"Then," answered the girl quietly, "you wait to welcome him, whilst I go and prepare a meal."
She passed into the cabin, whilst Stane walked down to the shore of the lake. The traveller whoever he was, was making directly for the cabin, and watching, Stane saw that he walked wearily as if he had come far, or was suffering from some weakness. It was quite an appreciable time before he saw Stane standing to welcome him, and when he did so, he gave a joyous shout. Stane answered the hail, and a few minutes later when the man halted his dogs he saw that he was mistaken in concluding the new-comer was the owner of the cabin, for he was garbed in the winter dress of the Nor-west Mounted Police.
"Cheero," said the policeman in greeting. "Where's Jean Bènard?"
Stane shook his head. "Don't know. Is Jean Bènard the owner of the cabin?"
At this question the policeman glanced at him sharply.
"Don't you know that? Who in thunder—Stane! By Christopher!" As he made the recognition the new-comer held out his mittened hand. "Well this is a pleasure. Don't you know me, old man?"
Stane looked at him as he shook his hand. "I think I do," he said. "Your Dandy Anderton, aren't you?"
"Used to be," laughed the other. "Now I'm Trooper Richard Alland Anderton of the R.N.W.M.P., and no more a dandy. But I'm mortal glad to see you, Stane, particularly as I'm a little knocked. I hurt my shoulder this morning, as——" He broke off suddenly as the sound of movement came from the cabin, and asked quickly. "You've got a mate?"
"Yes," answered Stane, with a short laugh, "as good a mate as a man could have, a mate that happens to be a lady!"