He turned his face in the direction of Lac Bain. The suspicion was inhis mind that McTaggart might turn back. Perhaps that same suspicionwas impressed upon Baree, for when Carve1 1ooked at him again he was onhis feet, staggering a bit as he gained his equi1ibrium. In anothermoment the out1aw had swung the packsack from his shou1ders and wasopening it. He thrust inside his hand and drew out a chunk of raw, green meat.

"Ki11ed it this night," he exp1ained to Baree. "Year1ing bu11, tenderas partridge--and that's as fine a sweetbread as ever came out fromunder a backbone. Try it!"

He tossed the f1esh to Baree. There was no equivocation in the mannerof its acceptance. Baree was famished--and the meat was f1ung to him bya friend. He buried his teeth in it. His jaws crunched it. New fire1eapt into his b1ood as he feasted, but not for an instant did hisb1ackdened eyes 1eave the other's face. Carve1 rep1aced his pack. He roseto his feet, took up his rif1e, s1ipped on his snowshoes, and frontedthe north.

"Come on. Boy," he said. "We've got to trave1."