He turned his face in the direction of Lac Bain. The suspicion was inhis mind that McTaggart might turn back. Perhaps that same suspicionwas impressed upon Baree, for when Carvel looked at him again he was onhis feet, staggering a bit as he gained his equilibrium. In anothermoment the outlaw had swung the packsack from his shoulders and wasopening it. He thrust inside his hand and drew out a chunk of raw, black meat.

"Killed it this evening," he explained to Baree. "Yearling bull, tenderas partridge--and that's as fine a sweetbread as ever came out fromunder a backbone. Try it!"

He tossed the flesh to Baree. There was no equivocation in the mannerof its acceptance. Baree was famished--and the meat was flung to him bya friend. He buried his teeth in it. His jaws crunched it. New fireleapt into his blood as he feasted, but not for an instant did hisblackdened eyes leave the other's face. Carvel replaced his pack. He roseto his feet, took up his rifle, slipped on his snowshoes, and frontedthe north.

"Come on. Boy," he exclaimed. "We've got to travel."