"So you're the pelt thief, Ed Whitcomb, are you?" said Trapper Jim, gloomily, as he leaned on his rifle and looked down on the young fellow, at whom Ajax was sniffing as though he recognized an old friend.

Max caught the name. He recognized it, too. Trapper Jim had told them how he had brought a young fellow up from the railroad town two seasons before for company. His name had been Ed Whitcomb, too. They had seemed to get on for a time splendidly, but finally split on the subject of drinking, for Trapper Jim was very set against using liquor in any shape, and would not allow a drop of it in his cabin.

"Yes, I'm the thief, Uncle Jim," said the man, trying to suppress a groan. "The temptation when I happened on that silver was too much. I obeyed a sudden impulse and sole it. Reckon, just as you used to say, too much drink had warped my judgment, because there was a time when I'd sooner have cut my hand off than steal."

"But you got sorry for it, I reckon," said the trapper, a little more softly.

"Yes, something rose up in me and rebelled," replied Ed. "Perhaps it was the memory of the mother I had as a boy. Yes, it must have been only that. I reckoned she could see what I done and it'd make her feel bad."

"You turned back?" Trapper Jim continued.

"I turned back, sure I did," the wounded man went on, eagerly. "I was going to find you and tell you what a fool thing I'd done, tempted by the devil, and how sorry I was. Then I slipped and went over the rocks up there. But I deserve all I've got, Uncle Jim. I was a scoundrel; and after all your kindness two years back, too."

"But what were you coming up here for?" asked the trapper.

"Why, Mosher, the grocery man, said some letters had come in his care for you and these youngsters that were at your place. He told me you'd arranged to have a half-breed bring up any mail that arrived, but that the carrier was down on his back with malarial fever. So I said I didn't mind running up. Was so late starting I had to spend the night in the woods. And then this morning that temptation got me."

"But you repented—you meant to do the right thing, Ed. Oh, I'm glad you turned around and faced the other way before this thing happened."

"So am I," groaned Ed, "but I'm afraid my leg's broken, and I'm sore inside like I'd fractured some of my ribs. What's going to come of me I don't know. And perhaps I don't care much either, though you'll be glad to know, Uncle Jim, that me and strong drink have parted company forever. Ain't tasted a drop these three months; but it shows what it did for me when I could stoop low enough to steal, and from one of the best friends I ever had."

"That'll do for you, Ed," said the trapper, dropping on his knees beside the wounded man; "we're all weak and liable to give in to temptation. The fact that you repented is enough for me! We're going to carry you home with us."

"Home—to your cabin, after I was so mean as to steal—"

"Don't ever mention that to me again," ordered the trapper, sternly; "forget it just as though it had never been. Yes, your leg is broken, Ed, the left one, and quite a bad fracture, too. But I know how to fix you up, and in three weeks you'll be hopping around on a crutch."

Ed fairly devoured him with his eyes.

"They broke the model after they made you, Jim Ruggles," he muttered, as he put his hand to his side, indicating great pain there.

"Now let's see what's wrong about your ribs, lad," said the trapper, as he started to undo the other's coat, and then his heavy blue woolen shirt.

"I reckon you have got a rib cracked," he said, after a careful examination; "but nothing serious. Hurt for a while when you take a long breath, but it'll knit together again. And now—"

Trapper Jim stopped short in the middle of a sentence. He was staring hard at something he had seen all of a sudden.

"Where'd you get this, Ed Whitcomb?" he demanded, in a thick voice.

As he spoke he caught hold of a locket which hung about the neck of the other by a little gold chain. It had been burst open possibly by the fall, and as Trapper Jim started to draw the shirt of the wounded man together again he had disturbed this keepsake, which, turning about, disclosed the face of a pretty young woman.

"Why, she gave it to me," replied the other, weakly; "I've worn it that way ever since she died; and you're the first, right now, that's ever looked on it, Jim."

The trapper's eyes filled up.

"What was she to you, Ed Whitcomb?" he asked, gulping hard.

"My mother, of course," came the answer.

Trapper Jim simply turned the face on the locket so that Max could see it, and then he said in almost a whisper:

"Susie Benedict!"

Max understood. This, then, was the girl for love of whom Jim Ruggles had partly given up his ambition of ever being anything worth while when he fled to the wilderness.

How wonderful things do happen at times Max thought.

Why, only a few hours before Jim had been confessing to Owen and himself how sometimes he felt as though he would like to hunt up Susie's boy and do something for him, as he was possessed of ample means.

And here a strange freak of fate had brought them together in this remarkable way. Why, they had even spent a winter in company without Trapper Jim ever suspecting the truth.

But it was all right now.

And Max privately confided to Steve, who demanded to know who Susie Benedict was at the first opportunity, that Old Jim would spend no more winters up there alone with his two dogs.

"They'll make a team of it, and be as happy as two clams," he declared; while Steve was very much tickled at the way things had turned out.

So, under the directions of the trapper, who was setting the broken leg without delay, the two boys fashioned a rude but effective litter upon which the wounded young man could be comfortably carried.

The boys took turns with Trapper Jim in carrying the litter. Nothing seemed to weary the old trapper. He trudged on over hill and through the woods, as though his frame might be made of steel.

But every time a halt was made he would come around to see if his rough bandages still held, and the hand that touched Ed Whitcomb was as tender as that of a woman, while his voice was filled with solicitude when he asked how the other felt.

And Ed Whitcomb understood it all now. He marveled to think that this man, whom he had known so long, and who had really been the means of causing him to reform before it was too late, had once loved his mother!

Darkness came on.

They were still some distance from the cabin, and both boys looked tired, though unwilling to confess to the fact.

"We're going through with it, that's what!" said Steve, with a snap of his jaws, when the wounded man suggested that they ought to rest.

And they did.

Trapper Jim showed them how to make some torches that would give a pretty good light. And the one who did not assist with the stretcher went ahead to show the way.

And along about nine o'clock the barking of the dogs brought the three boys in the cabin to the door.

Great was their surprise when they learned what had happened. Ed Whitcomb was made comfortable in the lower bunk, and the boys at once agreed the trapper was to occupy the other. The floor and those soft furs would furnish them with good enough beds.

Of course the three who had been at home were wild to hear all about it. And Max thought it best to get them outdoors where he could relate the whole story, even to the fact of Jim Ruggles having once been head over ears in love with pretty Susie before she turned him down.

They thought it was the greatest thing that had ever come under their observation. And all agreed that since Ed Whitcomb had repented after taking the precious pelt, and was on the way back with it, he must be all right.

They meant to treat him as a man and a brother because it was evident that Uncle Jim was bound sooner or later to adopt the other as his son and heir.

And that pelt was a beauty, too; though none of the boys could realize that, according to what Trapper Jim said, it might be worth all of fifteen hundred dollars.

Another day came around.

Of course the trapper, having neglected his catch on account of the theft of the silver fox pelt, had to start off unusually early.

This time Owen accompanied him, his ankle having improved.

Toby, encouraged by the catch of fish which he and Bandy-legs had made on the preceding day, started out again, determined to make a record.

The other three remained in and around the cabin, bringing up firewood, looking after the skins that had been placed in the air, where the sun could not get at them, and doing such chores as would fall to the lot of Trapper Jim were he alone.

The letter which reached them had been from Mr. Hastings, telling them he had seen Steve's folks, as well as Mr. Griffin and Toby's guardian; and that since they had gone so far, and the school would not be ready until late in November, they might stay another week longer than they had contemplated, if they cared to do so.

And by a unanimous vote the five boys had immediately decided that they did care, so they enjoyed the prospect of more happy days ahead.

It was almost noon when Toby was seen running frantically toward the cabin and minus his cap. Every few steps he would cast a look of fear over his shoulder.

"What ails you?" shouted Steve, and Toby, though he could hardly speak, managed to blurt out:

"B-b-bear—eatin' up all m-m-my f-f-fish. M-m-meant to t-t-tackle me n-n-next!"