He had never heard of Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and inasmuch as the outfit was evidently a special escort to Fort Churchill it was very likely that Porter and his companions would not be thinking of outlaws, and especially of Jolly Roger McKay.

This was his one chance.

To attempt an escape through the blizzard was not only a desperate hazard.

It was death.
There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed through the hole to Porter.

A few moments later he was holding a flask of liquor to the lips of the gray-bearded man, while the girl looked at him with eyes that were widening as the snow-sting left them.