And then--could he find her again?
Would she go into the South--to civilization--or deeper into the untraveled wildernesses of the North?
In answer to his question there flashed through his mind the words of Jean Croisset: "M'seur, I know of a hundred men between Athabasca and the bay who would kill you for what you have said." Yes, she would go into the North.

Somewhere in that vast desolation of which Jean had spoken he would find her, even though he spent half of his life in the search! It was past midnight when he spread out the furs and undressed for bed.
He opened the stove door and from the bunk watched the faint flickerings of the dying firelight on the log walls.

As slumber closed his eyes he was conscious of a sound--the faint, hungerful, wailing cry to which he had listened that first night near Prince Albert.

It was a wolf, and drowsily he wondered how he could hear the cry through the thick log walls of his prison.

The answer came to him the moment he opened his eyes, hours later.