The Weber Literary Journal Another spoke, "Well, if it isn't our ol' friend, the polar hermit!" At this the crowd burst into laughter. "You boys will be hermits to me, all right, when I finish my next trip. I'm leaving this God-forsaken country forever going to a place where a man can go to sleep and have at least a gambler's chance of waking up." At this another burst of laughter issued from the crowd. A cheery voice called, "Anybody going along?" He turned away without answering. From the other side of the hall, as unconcerned as if he had not known who was there, leisurely walked the Frenchman. "Eef you would take the fair Marie, M'sieu, you will first get the permission of Pierre." The other turned angrily upon him. "A lot of interfering you'll do with my affairs." "Yes? But I'll see that you never leave this land." "You will, will you? We'll just see about that. And another thing: You keep your dirty hands off Marie, or I'll kill you. I can do it now if it be necessary." "You say you weel have only one more trip? You are right. The trail that you break to Leetle Canyon will be your last." A crack of the whip and the dogs were off. "His last trail." The thot worried him, but that crazy Frenchman would surely not follow him up there. Was his strength and daring not known and feared by all with whom he dealt? As the sled moved swiftly thru the snow he wistfully looked back upon the trail. Would it be the last? The cache at Little Canyon was a secluded spot under a ledge of rock, overhung by great limbs that served as storm breakers and hid the interior from sight. "I'll get a fire going in a few minutes and start the coffee boiling. Then I'll have time to think of what a crazy Frenchman might do if he gets into close quarters." Suddenly from the pile of dried leaves which he was gather- 16 The Weber Literary Journal ing for the fire a pair of iron jaws sprang and caught him on the arms. The cold steel sank far into the brawny fore-part. "A bear trap!" he groaned. He knew what that meant. The dogs on the outside whined at the groaning and cursing of their master as he tried to sever the gripping teeth of the trap from his arms, useless as he knew the effort was. From far down the canyon, that night, in the crisp white stillness, a wild horrifying shriek rang out. It was as if one were calling with the strength of despair to some one far away in the great white mountains; it was answered only by a weird low whine from the dogs outside. Next morning as the first faint streaks of day lighted the valley, the man glared at the trap and his arms frozen to it, but were they arms? Surely these numb, bloody stumps were not the powerful things he had lived and prospered by! The trap was fastened to a tree by a huge linked chain that increased his agony as he tried to move about. The few hours of the morning passed as if they had been years. Suddenly a welcome sound broke the stillness. Could that be someone whistling? It was. Wildly he cried for help. In a few minutes a voice behind him said, "Ah, you are in distress, M'sieu?" "Pry loose these jaws before the pain kills me, friend, quick!" In his agony he did not know to whom he was speaking. "Then I am your friend now, M'sieu? It has not been long " Half recognizing the voice he raised up, opened his eyes, and tho he could scarcely believe it, there stood the Frenchman, with a cynical smile across his face. He sank back, "Then it was you, you infernal beast, that fixed this trap for me?" "When Pierre plans, he never fails, M'sieu. You theenk thees place ees your own; Pierre has watched every move you make for three weeks and you never knew. I plan for the pile of leaves you always go to for your fire. And now that you have made your trail, Pierre will keep you company until I go back for Marie." He built a fire and prepared some savory food, that scented the air with an appetizing aroma and added to the anguish 17