"I will," answered Helen coldly, and without further began the of all that had befallen her from the time she had left her uncle's camp to inspect the colony. Ainley listened for a long time without interruption. Much of the story he already knew, though the girl was of the fact; much more he had guessed, but some things were unknown to him, and when she gave the account of Stane's accident at the deadfall and of the camp she had made there, he broke out in : "That explains how it was we never found you. We must have passed within a very few miles of you."
"You were once within a quarter of a mile of me."
"How do you know that?" he cried.
"Because I saw you and the Indian Joe pitch your camp on the shore of the lake."
"You saw——" he began, and then stopped staring at her with incredulous eyes.
"Yes! I watched you make your fire, and then I went back to camp, and put out my own fire."
"Why?" he demanded harshly, though he had already guessed.
"Because I was afraid you would discover me," answered the girl calmly. "And I, with a heart, watched you departing in the morning."
Ainley rose suddenly to his feet. "Helen," he cried , "do you know what you are saying? You are telling me that you were glad to be left alone in this god-forsaken with a man who was a discharged convict? I wonder what our world would think of that ?"
"I do not care what our world, as you call it, would think about my action. These few months in the wilderness have made me think little of those conventions which have such observance in the letter but are in the spirit every day."
"Our acquaintances would say——" he began, with a note of bitter in his voice, but Helen interrupted him.
"I wonder what our acquaintances would say if they knew everything about the crime for which Hubert Stane became a convict?"
As she dealt this blow the girl looked at him with ruthless eyes. Now she was defending, not herself alone, but the memory of the man she loved, and who out of consideration for herself had only declared his love when he was going out to meet his death. That thought made her merciless, and as she saw him waver under the weight of the blow and his face grow white as the snow about them, she continued unflinchingly.
"If they knew what I know they might say that I had made a wise choice in remaining with a convict who had suffered for something of which he was innocent, instead of going with the man who sent another man to——"
"Helen! You are mad! mad!" cried Ainley in a voice so wild that one of the Indians, at the other side of the fire, started suddenly to his feet, and looked around him as if for enemies. Ainley saw him and checked the other wild words which sprang to his lips, and after a moment the Indian sank down on his haunches and dropped his chin on his breast again.
"No," answered Helen calmly. "I am not mad, I am telling the truth, as you gave me evidence just now. You did not let me finish my sentence. You knew what I was going to say. How did you know it? You could not have guessed it if the facts had not been within your knowledge." She broke off and was silent for a moment whilst Ainley stared at her with wild eyes. "I may be in your debt for what happened this morning. I do not know, for I do not, cannot trust you; but I will never forgive you for what the man I loved suffered. Never!"
"You believe some lying tale of Stane's?" said Ainley, in a attempt to cover up his own .
"I believe what he told me; I would have believed it on his word alone, but fortunately the matter does not depend on that word only. There is evidence, and I know where that evidence is, and I will tell you what I am going to do. When we get to Fort Malsun, I shall get Mr. Rodwell to equip an expedition, and I shall recover that evidence and publish it to the world, in order to clear the memory of the man whom you have so deeply wronged."
"There will be no need for that, fortunately, Miss Yardely!" said a voice behind her.
The girl jumped to her feet in surprise. And Ainley took a quick step forward as a man emerged from the shadow of the trees into the circle of the firelight. It was the mounted policeman, Dandy Anderton, and behind him came another man at whom Helen stared for a moment incredulously, then with a great cry of joy ran to meet him.
"Hubert! Hubert!"
"Yes!" he answered, slipping an arm about her.
"But I thought—I thought——"
"I was afraid you might think so," he replied in answer to her unspoken thought. "But that could not be helped. I followed after you as fast as I could, and I was at your heels when your captors were shot down on the lake and the snow came on."
"Oh, how glad I am that you are alive! That you have found me."
She rested against him well-content, and Stane's arm about her its grip; then they came back to the little world about them, at the sound of the policeman's voice.
"Didn't know me, Ainley? I dare say not. I'm not quite the tailor's mannikin that I was in the old days at the 'Varsity. Got a man's job now, you see. And that reminds me, I'm here on duty. I happened to be up the Little Moose when that shooting took place this morning. There's a couple of dead Indians up there, and as I guess you had something to do with their sudden deaths I shall have to call on you for an explanation you know."
Ainley looked at the policeman without fear, and then for a moment his eyes turned and rested on Helen and Stane together in the shadow of a great fir-tree. It must have been a moment of exceeding bitterness to him, but beyond a short, laugh he gave no sign of his feelings. He turned again to the policeman. he was cool and self-possessed. He waved a hand towards the fire.
"May as well make ourselves comfortable. It's rather a long story I have to tell. Where are your dogs?"
"Back in the wood—anchored. I'll slip back and fetch them."
"No," said Stane, "I will go back for them."
He turned, and Helen turned with him.
"You don't mind," she whispered.
"Mind!"
She walked by his side, a hand on his arm. Once when they were well in the shadows of the wood they stopped, and with his arm about her he kissed her.
"My dear!" he whispered, "my dear."
Helen said nothing immediately, but gave a little laugh of gladness. Then after a moment she asked, "How did you escape? How did you find me?"
"It is too long a story to tell you the whole of it just now. But right in the nick of time, when I was expecting to die, the owner of our cabin, Jean Bènard came back. He saved my life; but as he knew nothing about you, the attackers got away with you, but as soon as he heard my story he got ready to pursue, and having found out that your were making for the Little Moose we took a short cut and waited for you. We were at your heels when the rifles fired from the shore——"
"Then you were with that second ?"
"Yes, I and Jean Bènard!"
"I saw you and I wondered," cried Helen. "But the half-breed had told me you were dead."
"We lost you in the snow," said Stane, continuing his explanation, "but found Anderton, and though the snow was as bad as ever, after a time we started to search for your trail. Jean Bènard found it deep in the wood where we were searching, knowing the lake was impossible for any one to travel in the storm, and after he had made the discovery, Anderton and I started to track you."
"And where is Jean Bènard?" asked Helen quickly. "I want to thank him for saving you, for bringing joy back to me when I thought that it was dead for ever."
"He is following us, he will be here, presently."
"Then I shall see him?"
"I hope so. But we must hurry on, dear. The dogs——"
"Bother the dogs—."
"But I want to hear Gerald Ainley's explanation. It is important that I should."
"I have already heard it," said Helen quickly. "It is full of lies."
"You think so?"
"I know it."
"All the more reason that I should hear it with Anderton. There is much more behind all this than you know, Helen."
"Perhaps I guess something of what lies behind."
"I do not think you can. It is an extraordinary story, and there will be a dénouement presently that will surprise Ainley. Come!"
They moved forward together, found the dogs, and having righted the sledge by which they had been anchored, they r............