as helen yardely caught sight of ainley's face, for a moment she was dumb with amazement, then she cried: "you? you?"

"yes," he answered quickly, "i have been seeking you for weeks, and i find you in the nick of time. but there is no time to explain now. there were others with your captors; i saw the sledge following behind. we must get away at once."

as he spoke he cut the thongs which bound her to the sledge and helped her to rise. then he spoke again urgently. "quick!" he said. "there is danger. this way—i have a team waiting for you. we must take to the woods."

he took her arm, and began to hurry through the blinding snow. helen, bewildered by the swift turn of events, did not resist, but moved forward with him, and in a couple of minutes found herself standing by a sled-team guarded by a couple of indians.

"get on the sledge, helen," said ainley, brusquely. "there is no time to waste. we must hurry."

still in a whirl of conflicting thoughts, the girl seated herself on the sledge, ainley swiftly did what he could for her comfort, and a moment later the dogs received their command.

"moosh! moosh!"

they turned from the storm-ridden lake to the shelter of the great woods. the trail was not a good one; but the snow among the trees was far from being the hindrance it was in the open; and though their progress was slow, on the whole it was steady. except for forced halts to unravel the harness when it caught in the bushes, they did not stop for two hours, but pressed on until they reached an open space in the woods, which they crossed in a smother of blinding snow. on the other side of this break they came to a fresh spur of forest, and when they had penetrated to the shelter of the trees once more, the first voluntary halt was made. then for the first time since the march had begun, ainley spoke to the girl.

"comfortable, helen?" he asked.

"as comfortable as possible under the circumstances," was the reply.

"i am sorry i can do no better," replied ainley. "but we are in danger still, and a little hardship is better than the grave risk of life."

"oh!" answered helen. "i do not mind the hardship."

"that is what i should expect of you," answered ainley quickly, "but it is not for long that i ask it of you. in another hour or so, we shall be safe, i hope, then we will camp until the storm is over."

"of whom are you afraid?" asked helen.

"indians! we were forced to shoot three of your captors; and those of their friends who were following on behind may feel impelled to try and avenge their deaths."

"oh!" said the girl; a note of such evident disappointment in her tone, that ainley looked at her quickly.

"why do you speak like that, helen? one would think that you were almost sorry that i had delivered you from the fate awaiting you."

"oh, it is not that!" replied helen quickly. "though of course i do not know what the fate was. do you?"

"i have an idea," he said, "and i will explain when we camp. just now i must have a word with my men. coffee will be ready in a few minutes; and there will be bacon and biscuit, which if not exactly appetising will be sustaining."

"i shall not mind bacon and biscuit," answered helen, and as ainley walked away a look of deep thought came on the girl's face.

was it true, she asked herself, that he was afraid of the pursuit of revengeful indians? she remembered the sledge which she had seen following behind, a sledge accompanied by only two men, and the evident anxiety it had occasioned her chief captor, and one thing fixed itself in her mind with all the force of a conviction, namely that whatever gerald ainley thought about these men behind, her captors knew nothing whatever about them; then she remembered the revelations made by the half-breed. he had owned that he had attacked the cabin and captured her for a price, a great price paid by a man who loved her. was that man gerald ainley? it was an odd coincidence that he should have been waiting just where he was, which was quite evidently the place where the half-breed had been making for. his words of greeting made it clear that he had been expecting to meet her, but in that case how did it come about that he knew she was in the neighbourhood? was he indeed the man to whom the half-breed was looking for the price? if so, why had he so ruthlessly shot down the men who were his confederates?

instantly an explanation that fitted the facts occurred to her. he had shot down her captors in order to conceal his connection with them and with the attack upon the cabin. she remembered the man whom she had seen, and her odd fancy that he was a white man, and recalled her lover's conviction that no bodily harm was meant to her, though the same was not true of himself, and a very deep distrust of gerald ainley surged in her heart; a distrust that was deepened by her recollection of the policeman's story of the forged bill, and the sheet of foolscap which had been in her lover's possession.

but of this distrust she gave no sign when ainley approached her, bearing food and coffee. she accepted the situation as if it were the most everyday one in the world; and she listened to the few words that he had to say, with real interest.

"we shall resume our march in twenty minutes or so, helen, but as i said, in an hour or so, we shall be beyond pursuit. then, when we have camped, you shall tell me the story of your adventures."

"yes," she answered quietly, "and you shall tell me exactly how you came to find me."

"that is a long story," he answered with a slight frown, "but you shall hear it all in good time. it has taken me months to find you, and i had almost begun to despair, when a fortunate chance gave me the clue to your whereabouts."

"what chance was it?" asked helen quickly.

"to answer that," he answered deliberately, "is to forestall my story." then he smiled, "you must be patient a little while longer, as i am, and when you have heard it, i hope you will not deny me my reward?"

"oh," she said with a little touch of scorn creeping into her tones. "you have been working for a reward?"

"no," he replied sharply. "my toil has been a labour of love. you must know that, helen! though it is quite true that sir james——"

he broke off, and as he showed no signs of continuing helen forced him to do so. "you were saying something about my uncle? did he send you after me?"

"he made me head of the search-party, because he knew i loved you, and he hinted that when i had found you i might go to him. you understand, helen?"

"yes," answered the girl enigmatically. "i think i do."

looking at her, ainley saw that there was nothing to be gained by pressing the matter further at that moment; and excusing himself he went to give orders to his indians. a short time later they resumed their journey, and travelled steadily for something more than an hour; then almost in the dark they pitched camp for the night. a substantial meal was prepared of which helen partook in the shelter of a little tent which had been erected; then when she had finished the meal, she seated herself by the big fire which had been built.

ainley also seated himself less than a yard from her; and without giving him a chance of asking for her story, she instantly demanded his.

"now," she said, as lightly as she could, "you shall tell me everything. how you searched for me, how you got on my trail at last, and the fate from which you saved me this morning."

ainley would have preferred to hear her story first; but he did not demur to her suggestion, and with a little deprecatory laugh he began. "it is not very easy to talk of one's own doings, but i will do my best to avoid boastfulness."

then, carefully picking his words, he described the anxiety her non-return to her uncle's camp had given rise to; and the preliminary search made by himself and the indian joe. as he described his own feelings of despair at the finding of the portion of her canoe in the drift-pile beyond the falls, his voice shook with quite genuine emotion, and helen moved so as to bring her face a little in shadow whilst she watched him. in that moment she momentarily forgot the distrust which her own questioning had awakened in her, and listened absorbed whilst he narrated the discovery of the brooch, and the new hope it occasioned, since it afforded evidence that she was in all probability still alive. then he broke off sharply. "you were saved from the river, somehow, by that fellow stane, who was up at fort malsun, were you not?"

"yes! how did you know?"

"i got his description from a half-breed who had met and hailed you going up the river in a canoe towards old fort winagog."

"but we met no half-breed," said helen quickly, her distrust awakening in full force.

"you met no half-breed?" the surprise in ainley's face was quite genuine, as helen saw, and she realized that whatever was to come, this part of the man's story was quite true.

"no, we met no one, and we never reached fort winagog, because our canoe was stolen whilst we slept."

"is that so?" ainley's face grew dark as he asked the question; then a troubled look came upon it. "the man must have lied to me," he said, "or have told me only half the truth, but he must have seen you, or how did he know that the man who was with you was stane?"

"perhaps he was the man who stole our canoe," said helen.

"yes," answered ainley, "that will be it. but——" he broke off without finishing. "anyway," he continued after a moment, "following his statement, i went up to old fort winagog, but found no sign of you, then back by another and a quicker route that i might tell your uncle of the lack of news, and organize a regular search. after that, i started to beat the country round about steadily. rodwell sent news of you to all the indians and trappers in the country, whilst your uncle promised a reward. for weeks i searched, and all in vain, then one day an indian girl came with a story of a white man and woman living in a cabin on a lake, and though she did not know their names she was able to tell me that this man and woman were stane and you."

"who was the girl?" asked helen quickly.

"it was that indian girl who was up at fort malsun!"

"miskodeed!" cried helen.

"that i believe was her name. she looked on stane as her lover, and she did you the honour of being jealous of you!" ainley laughed as he spoke. "absurd, of course—but what will you? the primitive, untutored heart is very simple in its emotions and the man was her paramour!"

"it is a lie!" cried helen hotly. "he had spoken to her only twice in his life."

"he was scarcely likely to own to anything more, to you," answered ainley, "and in any case i am giving you the indian girl's version; that it accords with my own belief is of little moment. what i do know is that she cared nothing about the reward your uncle offered, and that her sole purpose seemed to be to remove you from stane's company."

"and when you heard?" asked helen prompting him as he fell silent.

"when i heard, i did not waste time. i made a bee-line for the cabin on the lake, taking the girl with me. i arrived there last night——"

"how long were you on the way?" interrupted helen suddenly.

"four days."

"and miskodeed was with you all the time?"

"of course!" answered ainley a trifle uneasily. "she was our guide."

"i see," answered helen quietly. she made no further comment on the indian girl, but she knew now that ainley had departed from whatever truth there was in his narrative, for miskodeed, on the sure evidence of her own eyes had been at the indian encampment when he claimed she had been with him. she listened quietly whilst ainley continued:

"as i was saying, i arrived in the neighbourhood of the cabin last night, to find you gone——"

"and mr. stane?" she asked almost breathlessly. "did you find him? did you see him?"

ainley shook his head. "no, i did not see him myself, but one of my men turned a body over that was lying in the snow. it was that of a white man, who could be no other than stane!"

helen flinched at the answer which confirmed what the half-breed had said to her about stane being dead. she looked away, not wishing ainley to see her face at that moment, whilst the hot tears welled in her eyes, and the man, choosing to disregard her manifest sorrow, continued his story. "we found an indian in the snow, who had been wounded in the fight, as he told us, and on pressure he gave me the information that you had been carried away by a half-breed of the name of chigmok, who, as the indian averred, was making for the lake of the little moose, that is the lake where we rescued you. this wounded man also informed us that chigmok had a camp on the lake, gave us instructions how to find it; and volunteered the further information that chigmok was taking the longest route to the lake, since that was the easier way for a heavily-loaded sledge. there was a shorter way, as he informed us, a way which if we travelled hard, would bring us to the lake before chigmok himself; and after considering the matter carefully i decided to take the shorter route, and to await your captor at his own camp, since, as he had no reason for anticipating pursuit, the surprise would be all the more complete. we arrived there in good time, and—well, you know the rest, helen."

"not quite," answered the girl in a listless, toneless voice. "you have not yet told me what this man chigmok proposed to do with me."

"well, the wounded indian told us that he had fallen violently in love with you, and that he proposed to make you his squaw."

"ah!"

ainley interpreted the exclamation in his own way, but looking at the girl was surprised by a look which had come into her face. her listlessness had fallen from her. there was a look of absorption about her which puzzled him, and he wondered what she was thinking of. he did not know what her captor had revealed to her, and so never dreamed the truth, which was that helen was thinking that for the second time he had fallen from the truth in his narrative. but again she gave no further sign. for a little time she sat there grasping at the hope, the very little hope it gave her. he had lied twice, she was sure. what reason was there for supposing that the other parts of his narrative were true? he had owned that he had not seen hubert stane's body, and that he had taken the indian's word. but what if that were a lie, what if after all there had been no body, what if that, like the other things, was a fabrication? it was true that the half-breed had said stane was dead, but that might be a mistake. a faint hope stirred in her heart, and she determined to question ainley's two indians as soon as the opportunity arose. then a new thought came to her, and she turned quickly to ainley.

"tell me one thing," she said, "when you arrived at the cabin the attack was quite over?"

"quite," he answered.

"and you did not take part in the fighting? you fired no shots at the attackers?"

"no," he answered. "they had gone when we arrived, all except the wounded indian who gave me the information."

"then who was it?" she cried.

"who was it? i do not understand what you mean, helen."

"some one fired on the indians from the wood, and he kept on firing as the indians bound me to the sledge, and even after we had begun to flee."

ainley rose abruptly to his feet. it was very clear to the girl that the information she had given him had astonished him. his manner betrayed perturbation as he replied in short, jerky sentences: "you amaze me! what you say is—most astonishing. are you sure? you have not dreamed this by any chance?"

"if i have," answered helen, "another shared my dream. for when i heard the shots i thought that mr. stane had fired them; it was the half-breed who told me that i was mistaken, and that the shots had been fired by some one in the forest."

ainley's perturbation did not subside at this further information. there was in his face a look of agitation that amounted almost to apprehension. "i do not understand it at all," he said, more to himself than to helen. "it is beyond me. good heavens! is it possible that stane escaped after all? he——"

"i thought one of your men saw his body?" interrupted helen, quickly.

"he certainly saw the body of a white man, or so he avers, and i had no reason to suppose that it could be any one else!"

"then," said the girl, "you are not sure?"

"no, not in the sense you mean; but i am morally certain that—but why worry about stane? dead or alive he can be nothing to you."

the girl turned to him sharply, and there was a flash in her eyes and a look on her face that startled him.

"dead or alive," she said quickly, "he is more to me than you ever can be!"

"helen!" there was a note of angry protest in ainley's voice. "you cannot think what you are saying. you must have forgotten how i love you."

"no," answered the girl deliberately. "i have not forgotten."

"then you are forgetting what i have endured for you—all the toil and travail of these weeks of search—the risks i have taken to find you, the risks i took this morning. stane may have done something heroic in saving you from the river, i don't know, but i do know that, as you told me months ago, you were a hero-worshipper, and i beg of you not to be misled by a mere romantic emotion. i have risked my life a score of times to serve you. this morning i saved you from something worse than death, and surely i deserve a little consideration at your hands. will you not think again? since heroism is your fetish, can you find nothing heroic in my labours, in my service?"

the man was in deadly earnest, pleading for something on which his heart was set, and whatever dissimulation there had been in his narrative, there was none whatever in his pleadings. but helen remembered how her lover had gone to prison for this man's deed, and her heart was like a flint, her tone as cold as ice as she answered him.

"you do not understand," she said, "you have not yet heard my story. when you have, whatever i may owe you, you will not press me again."

"tell me the story then," cried ainley in a voice hoarse with passion. "and for god's sake, be quick about it!"