The cold Northland dawn had broken when Stane was roused from his sleep by the voice of his companion.
"M'sieu! m'sieu! It ees time to eat!"
Stane rubbed his eyes and looked round. Then he stood upright and stretched himself, every stiff muscle crying out against the process. He looked at the waiting breakfast and then at Bènard. One glance at the drawn face of the latter told him that he had not slept, but he refrained from comment on the fact, knowing well what thoughts must have made sleep impossible for him.
"Have you seen anything yet, Jean?" he asked as he seated himself again.
"Not yet, m'sieu," answered the trapper. "But eef Chief George did not lie we cannot miss Chigmok—an zee oders."
"But if he lied?" asked Stane with a sudden accession of anxiety.
"Then we shall haf to range an' find zee trail. But I do not tink he lie. He too mooch afraid! Eat, m'sieu, den we can watch zee lak' for zee comin' of Chigmok."
Stane ate his breakfast quickly, and when he had finished, accompanied Bènard a little way up the trail, which running along the base of the cliff by which they had camped, made a sudden turn between the rocks and unexpectedly opened out on a wide view.
Before him lay the snow-covered lake of the Little Moose, a narrow lake perhaps fifteen miles long. On one side ran a range of high rocky hills, a spur of which formed his own vantage place, and on the other side were lower hills covered with bush and trees almost to their crests. From the height where he stood he had an almost bird's-eye view of the lake, and he examined it carefully. Nothing moved on its virgin surface of snow. It was as blank as Modred's shield. He examined the shore at the foot of the wood-covered hills carefully. Creek by creek, bay by bay, his eye searched the shore-line for any sign of life. He found none, nowhere was there any sign of life; any thin column of smoke betokening the presence of man. He looked at the other shore of the lake, though without any expectation of finding that which he sought. It was bleak and barren, and precipitous in places, where the hills seemed to rise directly from the lake's edge. Nothing moved there, and a single glance told him that the land trail on that side was an impossibility. He looked at his companion.
"Dey haf not yet arrive," said Bènard, answering his unspoken question. "Dey camp in zee woods for zee night."