"Half an hour and it will be out.

There'll be nothing for Breault to find if this wind keeps up another two hours--nothing but drift-snow, with no sign of trail or cabin." He struck out, leaving the shelter of the ridge.

Straight south he went, keeping always in the open spaces where the wind-swept drift covered his snowshoe trail almost as soon as it was made.

Darkness did not trouble him now.

The open barren was ahead, miles of it, while only a little to the westward was the shelter of timber.