The old, creaking clock on the rustic ledge ticked away the minutes and the hours until midnight, but still no crunching of gravel relieved his anxious ears, still no gigantic form of the grizzled, bearded trapper showed in the doorway.

One o'clock came and went.

Two--three.
Houston still waited.

Four--and a scratch on the door.

It was Golemar, followed a moment later by a grinning, twinkling-eyed Ba'tiste.
"_Bon_! Good!" he exclaimed.