At noon on the third day they reached the last tilt.  Bill was ahead, and when he pushed the door open he exclaimed:  “Th’ stove’s gone!” Then they found the bag that Micmac John had left there with the fur in it.

“Now that’s Micmac John’s bag,” said Ed.  “What devilment has th’ Injun been doin’?  Now why did he leave th’ fur?  ’Tis strange—­wonderful strange.”

Dick noted the evidences of an open fire having been kindled upon the earthen floor.  “That fire were made since th’ stove were taken,” he said.  “Micmac John left th’ fur an’ made th’ fire.  He’s been stoppin’ here a night after Bob left wi’ th’ stove.  But why were Bob leavin’ wi’ th’ stove?  An’ where has he gone?  An’ why has th’ Injun been leavin’ th’ fur here an’ not comin’ for un again?  We’ll have t’ be findin’ out.”

They started immediately to search for some clue of the missing lad, each taking a different direction and agreeing to meet at night in the tilt.  Everywhere they looked, but nothing was discovered, and, weary and disheartened, they turned back with dusk.  Dick returned across the first lake above the tilt.  As he strode along one of his snow-shoes pressed upon something hard, and he stopped to kick the snow away from it.  It was a deer’s antler.  He uncovered it farther and found a chain, which he pulled up, disclosing a trap and in it a silver fox, dead and frozen stiff.  He straightened up and looked at it.

“A Christmas present for Bob an’ he never got un,” he said aloud.  “Th’ lad’s sure perished not t’ be findin’ his silver.”

Here was a discovery that meant something.  Bob had been setting traps in that direction, and might have a string of traps farther on.  Possibly he had gone to put them in order when the storm came, and had been caught in it farther up, and perished.  Anyway it was worth investigation.  When Dick returned with the fox and the trap to the tilt he told the others of his theory and it was decided to concentrate their efforts in that direction in the morning.

Accordingly the next day they pushed farther to the westward across the second lake, and at a point where a dead tree hung out over the ice found fresh axe cuttings.  A little farther on they saw one or two sapling tops chopped off.  These were in a line to the northward, and they took that direction.  Finally they came upon a marsh, and heading in the same northerly course across it, came upon the tracks of a pack of wolves.  Looking in the direction from which these led, Dick stopped and pointed towards a high boulder half a mile to the eastward.

“Now what be that black on th’ snow handy t’ th’ rock?” he asked.

“‘Tis lookin’ t’ me like a flat sled,” said Ed.

“We’ll have a look at un,” suggested Dick, who hurried forward with the others at his heels.  Suddenly he stopped, and pointed at the beaten snow and scattered bones and torn clothing, where Micmac John had fought so desperately for his life.  The three men stood horror stricken, their faces drawn and tense.  This, then, was the solution of the mystery!  This was what had happened to Bob!  Pretty soon Dick spoke: