sparrer's eyelids fluttered, then slowly lifted. dully and uncomprehendingly he stared up at a fretwork of bare brown branches against a background of blue. where was he? what had happened? then a throb of pain in his head cleared his senses and memory returned all too vividly. his brows contracted in a black scowl, and slowly and painfully he rolled over and got to his feet, staring about for his assailant. but of the outlaw there was no sign save the broken crust where the axe had plunged through. nor was there any trace of the black fox save a little spot of crimson and two or three black hairs where the animal had lain.

how long he had been unconscious he had no means of knowing, but it could not have been long, or he would have been frost-bitten. as it was he was merely chilled and numb from the cold. his head ached badly, and passing a mittened hand over it he found a big lump where the axe had hit him. moreover, he felt sick to his stomach, dizzy and weak. but for his physical ailments he had no thought. wrath, black, boiling rage, surged over him. he had been robbed! he had been treacherously outwitted! for the moment it was the latter fact rather than the former that was the cause of his hot resentment. he, sparrer muldoon, who had lived by his wits ever since he could remember, had been caught napping!

"an' me wid de drop on him!" he exclaimed bitterly. "he put me down fer de count, but it was a foul, an' oi wasn't lookin' fer no foul. serves me right." he smiled bitterly. "oi ought t'known better than t' give him an openin'. serves me right fer listenin' t' his spiel. if ever oi get de drop on him again he'll wish he'd never set eyes on sparrer muldoon."

this was idle boasting, and sparrer knew it. the chances that he would ever again set eyes on the wily redskin were exceedingly slim. still, it was possible that pat and alec might be able to pick up his trail, and the sooner they were put wise to the affair the better. he would get back to camp as soon as possible. he picked up his rifle, and even as he did so a new thought flashed across his mind. why tell of his experience at all? why mention the black fox? he could explain the bump on his head by saying that he had slipped and fallen, striking his head against a log. pat and alec need never know that he had lost the rare pelt for them for all time, nor that he had been such a tenderfoot as to be outwitted by an indian on whom he already had the drop. why say a word about it? to tell would be likely to win for himself nothing but contempt—contempt for his weakness in parleying with the outlaw, and for his stupidity in being outwitted.

but there was a hope, a faint one, to be sure, but still a hope, that by some special favor of providence pat and alec might be able to trace his assailant and recover the skin. not to tell would be to surrender without a fight, and this was directly contrary to the boy's nature. a double motive urged him to leave no stone unturned that might lead to the capture of the indian—the desire to recover the rich prize and the spirit of revenge. he could tell of the robbery without in any way committing himself in the matter of the temptation which had led to the parley with the outlaw. this is what he would do. he didn't want his companions to think worse of him than was absolutely necessary.

so with his mind made up to this course he headed for camp. "click-clack, coward! click-clack, coward!" his very shoes mocked him. he tried to shut out the sound, but he could not. had edward muldoon, boy scout, won over sparrer muldoon, street gamin, only to lose in the end? where the trail led close to the end of the big beaver dam he stopped abruptly and a last brief battle was fought between scout and gamin. when it was over he pushed on with an eagerness he had not felt before, for the scout had triumphed, and this time he knew that the victory was final. he would tell the whole story from beginning to end and spare himself nothing. "youse ain't no quitter!" he muttered to himself fiercely. "youse is goin' ter tell de truth, de whole truth and nothing but de truth."

his progress was slow and his snow-shoes seemed strangely heavy. the fierce conflict within, not less than the effects of the blow he had suffered, had left him physically weak. he felt light-headed. his nervous system had received a shock from which he was now feeling the effects. he was possessed of a desire to sit down and rest every few minutes. but he set his jaws grimly and plodded on. upton was outside the cabin splitting wood as he approached. he looked up as the click-clack of snow-shoes caught his attention and seeing that it was sparrer called cheerily, "what luck?"

a shadow of his old-time impudent grin flashed across sparrer's face as he replied, "what luck wud ye be expecting with a tenderfoot loike me?"

"the greatest luck in the world. it's always that way in stories," retorted upton. then he noticed the pale face of the younger lad, and dropping his axe he sprang forward, "say, boy, what's happened?" he demanded anxiously. "you're white as a sheet. are you hurt or have you had a fright? spit it out!"

"a little of both, oi guess," confessed sparrer, sitting down wearily on a handy log. "are de others back yet?"

"not yet, but they're coming now," replied upton as a faint yell reached them. "that's hal, and by the sound of his voice they've had luck of some kind. but what happened to you?"

"it's a long story, and oi'll tell it when de others get here," replied sparrer. "oi think oi'll go in and get a d-d-rink of somethin' h-hot." his teeth chattered. it was the result of nervous reaction quite as much as cold. upton, with real concern in his face, sprang forward and put an arm around the shaking youngster and led him into the cabin, then hastened to make him a cup of hot soup. with this in his stomach sparrer rapidly recovered and by the time pat, alec and hal arrived, the latter whooping joyously, he was quite himself. they brought with them three marten and a fisher.

when these had been duly admired upton demanded that sparrer tell his story, and this he did, sparing himself nothing. at the first mention of the black fox there was an eager leaning forward on the part of all his listeners, and when he told of the successful shot hal whooped with joy.

"where is he?" he demanded.

"oi don't know," replied sparrer, and could not restrain a rather pathetic grin at the blank look of astonishment that swept over the four eager faces. then he hurried on, blurting out a full confession of his temptation and winding up with the incident of the axe throwing and his final recovery of consciousness.

"de skunk didn't even leave me de rabbit," he concluded.

the faces of pat and alec had changed rapidly from interest and astonishment to seriousness, anger and determination. both knew that murder and nothing less had been back of the throwing of that axe, and that it was merely the accident of good fortune that sparrer was with them now instead of lying a corpse out there in the beaver swamp. pat reached forward and pulled sparrer's cap from his head, disclosing an ugly lump where the blow had fallen. till that moment no one had noticed that the boy had kept his cap on.

"you may thank the good god that it was the handle and not the blade that struck you, son. 'twas he alone that saved you this time," exclaimed the big fellow, a note of reverence in his voice. "'tis an ugly bump," he added, passing his fingers lightly over the swelling. "'tis a wonder it didn't break your skull, as it was. the cap saved you, i guess. why didn't you tell us you had that nasty lump, you young spalpeen? it ought to have been treated long ago."

"it ain't nothing," replied sparrer sheepishly, for he hated to have a fuss made over him.

upton was already heating water and preparing a bandage. as soon as the water was hot he added a little tincture of arnica, and despite sparrer's protests a hot bandage was soon applied, and he was forced to admit that it brought almost immediate relief. this attention having been given the victim pat called a conference.

"it's plain enough," said he, "that this is the work of one of the black-hearted crooks who have been stealing our furs, for 'tis my belief that there is probably more than one and likely not over two." alec nodded concurrence with this belief. "that they'll stop at nothing sparrer's experience proves. i've known murder to be committed for less than the price of a prime black fox pelt. now that they've got it 'tis like that they will pull camp at once rather than take the chance of being discovered. on the other hand they may think that their camp is so well hidden that they can just lie low. if, as i suspect, they have been run out of one of the canadian lumber camps, this may be what they will do. they know that sparrer here is a tenderfoot and that there is only his word against theirs. besides, they can hide the pelt and deny all knowledge of it. sparrer hasn't a shred of proof but the lump on his head, and it would take more than that to convince a court of law in these parts that he had killed a genuine black fox.

"it's my opinion that their camp is a whole lot nearer than alec has supposed. there are plenty of draws back in these hills where a camp could be hidden and discovered only by chance, unless some one was making special search for it. the fact that that bloody-minded injun was hanging around the beaver pond so late in the day is evidence enough for me that his camp isn't many miles away. i'll bet it's within five miles of us this blessed minute. they probably located our trap lines, then built their camp in a place we were not likely to visit and then by working back up through the hills kept their trail hidden, and crossed on the ice to work our long lines, as alec suspects. they left our short lines alone, partly because they could not get at them without leaving a trail in the soft snow and partly so as not to arouse suspicion.

"with the crust they could go where they pleased, and the injun took the chance to do a little poaching on the beaver pond, knowing that we would leave it alone. he probably saw sparrer when he uncovered that trap and followed him through the woods either with the idea of finding out if the youngster suspected anything and then frightening him into holding his tongue or else just to keep track of his movements. he saw the killing of the fox and decided that the fortune in that pelt was worth any risk.

"what he told sparrer about the skin belonging to alec and me isn't true. this is a free country, and the free creatures belong to whoever can get them. if the critter had been in one of our traps it would have been a different matter. then it would have been our property. but the critter belonged to nobody until it was killed, and when sparrer knocked it over every hair on that black hide belonged to him and to no one else. the cunning redskin made up that yarn to tempt sparrer, and there wasn't a particle of truth in it. now the question is, what are we going to do to get back sparrer's property? if it was just an ordinary red fox or even a marten the case would be different, though even then i'd be for getting it back, and running those thieving poachers out of the country. as it is, we owe it to sparrer to try to get that skin. what's your idea, alec?"

alec leaned forward and poked the fire. "ye ken that the moon's full the night," said he slowly. "i am thinking that you and me might take a bit of a look around. if we could find the camp it would be time enough to decide what to do next. i dinna think that with that prize they will be staying in these pairts long, and what is done has got to be done quickly. i have no suspicioned that the camp was handy till now. i am no saying that i think so now," he hastened to add with characteristic scotch caution, "but i will admit that it is possible. ye ken there is no nook or hollow of these hills that i dinna ken every foot of. i hid out here once myself. we can leave the laddies to get a wee bit of sleep while we have a look in the most likely places."

"no, you don't!" protested hal. "if there's any game like that afoot you can count us in, can't they, fellows?"

upton and sparrer voiced eager assent, but pat shook his head. "nothing doing," he declared. "alec and i are responsible for the safety of you fellows and you'll stay right here and keep this little old cabin from running away. besides," he added, noting the disappointment in the three faces, "this is no play-scouting; it is men's work and only for those who know the country. two are all that are needed and more would double the chances of giving alarm. if alec and i can locate the camp we may need your help to-morrow in rounding up the thieves. so you will be good little boys and stay right here until you're needed. i was thinking of the moon before alec spoke. when it is up 'twill be almost as light as day. 'twill do no harm for us to have a look around. alec says true that he knows every foot of these hills and hollows. i know them pretty well myself, and if those birds of ill omen, bad cess to the likes of them, do not fly too soon we'll come pretty close to locating 'em inside the next twenty-four hours. there's no use in starting before the moon is well up. meanwhile we'll have supper. i have no mind to travel on an empty stomach, and i've the appetite of a lumber-horse this very minute. any of that bear-steak left, alec?"

alec promptly produced the desired meat and it was soon sizzling over the fire. while they ate they discussed what should be done in case the camp of the outlaws was discovered.

"do you suppose they will fight?" asked hal eagerly.

"look at sparrer there and ask sensible questions," returned pat sarcastically. "is a man who would attempt cold-blooded murder likely to come at a whistle like a good doggie? we've got to take them by surprise, or somebody is likely to get hurt. that is why i want you boys to keep out of it. this isn't your business; it's alec's and mine."

"how about me? youse said a while ago that that skin is mine," piped up sparrer.

"so it is, me bantam, but your own skin is worth more to you than all the silver foxes that ever lived, and if you cannot keep it whole yourself it's up to us to keep it whole for you," retorted pat. "it isn't just the matter of that fox skin," he continued. "i'm guessing that alec and i have a good sized stake in the skins cached in that camp right now. we had a little unpleasantness with those sneaking robbers of honest men to settle as soon as you left and this has simply forced it a little sooner. it's our job, and you fellows are to stay out. that's final."

they knew by the tone of his voice that no amount of begging or argument would avail them in the least. they knew, too, that pat was right in his stand. they were his guests and as such entailed upon him a certain responsibility for their safety and welfare.

"but, pat, can't we be in at the finish?" pleaded hal. "gee! think of a real scrap going on under our very noses and we not seeing it!"

"depends on what the finish is," replied pat. "i'll promise you this much, that if there is anything to see, or if you can help without the risk of stopping a bullet or a knife, you shall have a chance. at present it looks like a dangerous game, but we'll know more when we've found that camp. the greatest help you can give us now is to stay right here. we'll be back before daylight and by that time we will know enough, i hope, to plan some action. alec, it'll be a couple of hours yet before we can start. suppose we turn in for a bit of rest. it's little enough we're likely to get for the next twenty-four hours. we'll leave the lads to put the camp in order."

this the boys were only too glad to do while the two trappers stretched out in their bunks and rested. two hours later pat arose and peeped out. the moon flooded the hollow with light and he grunted his satisfaction. a few minutes later he and alec slipped out, and almost at once were lost in the heavy shadows of the evergreens. each carried his rifle, and the two faces were set and grim. there was something sinister in this silent departure, and as they vanished into the vast brooding wilderness the three boys instinctively drew nearer together. hal shrugged his shoulders and laughed, but somehow his laugh sounded oddly forced.

"somebody kick me and tell me if i'm awake," said he, throwing another log on the fire. "you read about such things and think it's a bully story, but somehow the story seems more real than the reality. of course nothing's going to happen to pat and alec, yet just the same they are out with rifles hunting sure enough bad men, and if there's any shooting somebody's likely to be hurt. if it wasn't for sparrer's bandaged head there i'd think i was dreaming. how's the old nut feel anyway, sparrer?"

"better, but sore enough t' let me know dis ain't no dream," returned the younger lad. "say!" he exploded abruptly. "what will de fellers say when we get back an' tell 'em we been fightin' outlaws an' that oi gets a knockout from a sure-enough injun? bet dey'll wish dey was in my shoes."

upton laughed. he was still boy enough to appreciate sparrer's feelings. "as long as you had to get it i'm glad it was a real redskin who put it across," said he. "as for fighting, it doesn't look to me as if we were going to see any of it. pat isn't going to take any chances on one of us getting hurt. it makes me sick every time i think of the close call sparrer had. if pat and alec find the camp of those brutes they won't do anything rash. they'll try to trap 'em some way. they're right about us, but just the same i wish we could be in it somehow. i'd like to see the finish."

"perhaps we shall yet," hal spoke hopefully. "shall we turn in?"

"what's the use?" returned upton. "i couldn't sleep a wink until pat and alec get back. we ought to keep the fire going and have something hot ready for them when they get in."

"suits me," declared hal. "i couldn't sleep either."

sparrer was of the same opinion, so they sat before the fire and speculated on what was happening out there in the forest. sparrer was plied with questions about his adventure and told the story over so graphically that the thrill of it sent little shivers down the backs of his listeners. at times they sat in silence wondering if they might hear distant rifle shots. and so the night wore on, the most exciting night in their experience, and yet a night in which so far as they were concerned nothing happened.