Through the blizzard Jolly Roger made his way a score of miles southward from the big dune on the Barren.

For a day and a night he made his camp in the scrub timber which edged the vast treeless tundras reaching to the Arctic.

He believed he was safe, for the unceasing wind and the blasts of shot-like snow filled his tracks a few moments after they were made.

He struck a straight line for his cabin after that first day and night in the scrub timber.

The storm was still a thing of terrific force out on the barren, but in the timber he was fairly well sheltered.