trapper. Where he had come from no one knew. He had no settled abode, being in one place to-day and miles away on the morrow. He had been known to appear suddenly at some mining camp with an injured prospector and vanish again into the wilderness. He was as elusive as a shadow, and just as intangible. He was terrible in a fight, so it was asserted, and he was the only creature of which the grizzlies, the dread of the trails, were afraid. His latest act in bringing in the little child stirred up afresh the numerous stories concerning his mysterious life.
Marion had heard some of these tales before, but had taken no special interest in them until now. She had concluded that the trapper was some great uncouth creature, half man and half beast by nature, who had lived most of his life in the wilderness. But never for an instant had he meant anything to her. That such a being could be the one for whom she was so anxiously seeking was beyond the bounds of her wildest imagination. Now she knew, and she listened with fast-beating heart to every scrap of information concerning the trapper. She concealed her feelings as much as possible, although when alone in her own room she would pace excitedly to and fro, her mind rent by wild, conflicting emotions. That she must see him again was the burden of her thoughts. To find him she had come north, and she must not give up until she had accomplished her purpose.
The second evening after Hugo’s arrival a startling story drifted into Kynox from Swift Stream. It told of the murder of Bill Haines, his wife, and little child near the C. D. Cut-Off. Two miners on their way down river had stopped at the cabin, found signs of a fierce struggle, and marks of blood leading to the
