The air was heavy with an impending storm, the blazed trail through the woods was rough, and at times difficult to find, so that it was late in the evening when the old man stumbled into the missionary's house and poured out his tale between his sobbing gasps to Brown and a Sergeant of the Mounted Police, who was present on the Queen's business.
Before the tale was done the Sergeant was on his feet.
"Where are French and Kalman ?" he said sharply.
"Gone hours ago," cried Brown.

"They must be at the mine by now." "Can this man be relied upon ?" enquired the Sergeant.
"Absolutely," said Brown.

"Fly! I'll follow." Without further word the Sergeant was out of the house and on his horse.
"What trail ?" he shouted.
"It is best by the river," cried Brown.

"The cross trail you might lose.

Go! Go, in God's name!" he added, rushing toward his stable, followed by Portnoff and his wife.