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DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH

shot came back. His face lit up with joy, then grew sober again.

Perhaps the shot had come from above, from Granbury Lapham or the others up there. But no, it had seemed to be further down—beyond the line of firs which confronted him. At the risk of wasting too much ammunition he fired again. But this time no signal came back.

"If it was father he'll want to save his shots—especially if his cartridge box is empty," thought Dave. Then he resolved to push on through the timber, calling his parent in the meanwhile.