trails would have met, and how much that would have meant to one, at least.
“Oh, the little more, and how much it is!
And the little less, and what worlds away.”
To Hugo the trackless wilds were as an open book, and he was as sure of his course as if on a well-beaten trail. Years of experience had developed his sense of direction, and he pressed steadily onward without the slightest hesitation. It was only when he came near his cabin did he slacken his speed and peer cautiously forward and around. Silence reigned everywhere as he stepped from his snow-shoes, pushed gently open the door and entered. The dog bounded to meet him, but Hugo motioning him to be still, looked toward the bunk. Marion was lying where he had left her, but she was now awake. She smiled as she saw her father standing there. Then she sat quickly up, an anxious expression showing in her eyes.
“Did you find Zell?” she asked. “Oh, I know you didn’t,” she added. “She is not with you.”
“I didn’t find her,” Hugo replied. “I have proof, though, that she was carried off by someone.”
“Oh!” It was all that Marion said, as she waited for further information.
In a few words Hugo told her what he had discovered, the signs of struggle in the snow, and the blood marks by the ashes of the camping-place.
“Oh, what can we do?” Marion asked, slipping from the bunk and standing before her father. “Can we not follow her, and rescue her from her captors?”
Before Hugo could reply, a bark from the dog, which had gone outside, startled him, causing him to bound to
