When next Frank opened his eyes, he lay on a blanket in camp and the sight of Bob and Jack bending anxiously above him while Mr. Hampton and Farnum worked at his shoulder greeted him.

“Hello,” he said, trying to grin, but wincing as a sharp stab of pain passed through his shoulder.

“Don’t move, Frank, We’ll have you fixed up right in a minute,” said Mr. Hampton soothingly.

“Is it bad, Dad,” Jack anxiously inquired.

“Just grazed the bone,” said Mr. Hampton, putting the finishing touches to the bandage, and straightening up. “There, Frank, now you’ll be all right.”

“What happened to me?” asked Frank, struggling to a sitting position, and finding his right arm bound across his chest.

“Bullet through your shoulder brought you down,” said Mr. Hampton. “And your head struck a rock hidden in the grass, so you were knocked out.”

“Good enough,” said Frank, “but who shot me? I was dashing along, yelling to attract your attention, and never knew what hit me.”

“I guess you didn’t,” said Jack. “If it hadn’t been for Art, you might have been finished. But he shot down the fellow that winged you.”

“Yes, and your two pals ran out as if there wasn’t an enemy in sight and carried you in,” said Art, as he saw Frank about to thank him. “Give your gratitude to them.”

Frank smiled.

“I guess I owe it to you all,” he said.

“You were foolish to follow the reindeer herd so closely, Frank,” said Mr. Hampton, reprovingly. “Unarmed, too.”

“Well, I was stampeding ’em, Mr. Hampton,” said Frank. “I couldn’t do that, you know, without being there.”

The older man shook his head.

“If I had been myself, Frank, I wouldn’t have let you take that chance,” he said. “No, Farnum,” he hastened to add, “I’m not criticizing you. When these boys take it in their heads to do something it’s hard to head them off. However, it all turned out for the best.”

“Tell me about it,” Frank said. “How did my scheme work out?”

“Couldn’t have been better, old thing,” said Bob. “Lupo’s men ran like rabbits when those reindeer swept down on them. They tried a few shots in an attempt to head them off, but seeing the uselessness of their efforts, turned and ran. We gave them a few shots to help them on their way. We counted nine.”

“And they got away?”

“All but the man Art shot,” said Jack. “The fellow who shot at you. And you haven’t heard who he was.”

Jack’s eyes were bright. Frank looked at him questioningly.

“Not——”

“Yes,” said Jack. “It was Lupo himself. Art wounded him in the chest. He died before we could do anything for him. But Dad got some information from him first.”

He looked at his father. Mr. Hampton’s face was both grim and sad.

“Yes, Frank,” he said. “We learned who set these men on us, and who plotted against Thorwaldsson. But let us not discuss it now. It’s bad business all the way through.”

Mr. Hampton turned aside, taking Farnum with him, and the two fell into a low-toned discussion. Bob and Jack, meanwhile, helped Frank to resume his clothing which still lay where he had discarded it before taking to the river. Art busied himself at packing up the camp equipment.

Presently, the two older men called Art to them and, after a few words of discussion, rejoined the boys.

“Boys,” said Mr. Hampton, “we want your opinions on this, too.”

“On what, Dad?”

“Well, we saw nine men go bounding off away from the reindeer, and we accounted for Lupo. That makes ten, and it doesn’t seem likely there were more. Yet there is the bare possibility that out there in the grass may be one or more badly wounded men, fellows whom we shot at one time or another, who were too hard hit to escape. If there are any such, we can’t go off and leave them there to die. I wouldn’t treat a dog like that.”

“They’re not dogs,” muttered Farnum, bitterly. “They’re wolves.”

“Mr. Farnum considers we would be taking too great a risk,” Mr. Hampton continued. “He says that if we go out to search for wounded, we are likely to be shot for our pains.”

“Oh, surely not by a wounded man whom you were going to help,” protested Jack.

“You don’t know them,” said Farnum.

“Well, just the same,” said Jack, “I think Dad is right. It would be shameful for us to go away without investigating.”

“I’d feel like a murderer,” said Bob. “Shooting ’em down in a fight is one thing. It was their lives or ours. But leaving a wounded man to die in the wilderness is something entirely different.”

Farnum made a gesture of surrender.

“I guess I seem hard-hearted,” he said. “But you don’t know what I’ve been through in the past. All right, we’ll make a search. But I warn you to be on guard.”

“Hardly likely after all that there are any wounded out there,” remarked Frank, taking part in the discussion for the first time. “They must have been in hiding right in the path of the reindeer, and you can’t see any forms there now. If there were any too badly wounded to escape, they’d also have been too badly wounded to drag themselves to the side.”

Mr. Hampton nodded.

“The grass is so beaten down, too,” he said, “that if there were anybody out there, we could see him. However, I cannot rest easy without making a search. Now, you three boys remain in camp and keep watch. The rest of us will take care of the search.”

To this the boys made no objection. As a matter of fact, it was one time that exclusion from activity did not irritate them. They had no stomach for what they might discover. Frank and Jack, especially, thinking of the terrible affair on the island in the lake, kept silence. Bob protested, but more as a matter of form and because he considered manliness demanded it, than otherwise.

Mr. Hampton shook his head.

“None of us want to do this, Bob,” he said. “It has to be done, however. But I certainly don’t want you boys along.”

The three men, revolvers clasped in their hands for use in case of emergency, set out, while the boys watched from the trees. Keeping close together, they quartered the plain, going far beyond the beaten down stretch of grass left by the passing of the reindeer herd. Presently, the boys saw them return, and with a sigh of relief, Jack said:

“Well, thank goodness, that’s over.”

Mr. Hampton’s spirits were considerably higher on his return, as the boys could see by his features.

“Nobody anywhere,” he reported, “and we made a thorough search, too.”

“More thorough than there was need for,” said Farnum, grumpily.

Mr. Hampton smiled slightly. On long trips into the wilderness, where men are thrown into intimate contact every hour of the day and night, they get to know each other better than would be the case through a lifetime of association under ordinary circumstances. It was so here. Mr. Hampton had come to love the silent, capable Farnum. Behind the latter’s bitter hatred of Lupo and his like, the easterner knew there was some good reason. He sensed a tragedy in Farnum’s past, about which, perhaps, the other would some day speak in a moment of confidence. And he forgave the man’s seeming brutality accordingly.

“All right, everybody,” said Mr. Farnum, cheerily. “Let’s pack up and be on our way.”

Thanks to Art’s previous preparations, the business of breaking camp was speedily concluded, and the party embarked in the canoes and once more got under way. Farnum and Art both considered that, because of Frank’s wounded shoulder and his inability to paddle, Art should take his place in the canoe with Bob and Jack while Frank went with Mr. Hampton and Farnum. But to this arrangement the boys protested vigorously, and Mr. Hampton settled the matter by supporting them.

“Bob and Jack are splendid canoeists,” he said. “They have given plenty of evidence of that on this trip, and at home they are always in the water when they aren’t flying. No, let Frank stay with them. They don’t like to be separated.”