"But I have heard there is, a man who is the son of thy sister, with a white father."
The old Indian looked as if considering the matter for a moment, then he said slowly. "My sister's son was here, but he departed four days ago."
"Whither went he?"
The Indian waved his hand northward. "Towards the Great Barrens. He took with him all our dogs."
"Done!" said the policeman with a quick glance at Stane. "It is certain there are no dogs here, or we should have heard or seen them."
He turned to the Indian again, whilst Stane looked at Helen. "You heard that, Miss Yardely? Our exile is not yet over."
"Apparently not," agreed Helen smilingly.
Stane again gave his attention to the conversation between his friend and the Indian, but half a minute later, happening to glance at the girl, he surprised a look of intense interest on her face. She was looking towards a tepee that stood a little apart from the rest, and wondering what it was that interested her, Stane asked, "What is it, Miss Yardely? You seem to have found something very interesting."
Helen laughed a little confusedly. "It was only a girl's face at a tent-door. I was wondering whether the curiosity of my sex would bring her into the open or not."
Stane himself glanced at the tepee in question, the moose-hide flap of which was down. Apparently the girl inside had overcome her curiosity, and preferred the warmth of the tepee to the external cold. He grew absorbed in the conversation again, but Helen still watched the tepee; for the face she had seen was that of Miskodeed, and she knew that the thought she had entertained as to the identity of the woman of mystery, who had fled from the neighbourhood of the cabin, was the right one. Presently a mittened hand drew aside the tent-flap ever so small a way; and Helen smiled to herself.