Part 19 (1/2)

”You have a rifle, and must take the packer. So long as deer and grouse are in the woods, an Indian will not starve,” Stannard replied and gave Jimmy his wallet. ”Offer the fellow a large sum and he'll see you out.

But you must start!”

”Thank you; I'll risk it,” said Jimmy, and giving Stannard his hand, went off.

Not long afterwards the others returned and Deering looked about the room.

”Where's Jimmy?” he asked.

”He went out a few minutes since,” Stannard replied in a careless voice and Deering turned to the trooper.

”Somebody must watch Douglas, but you're knocked out and Mr. Stannard and I will undertake the job until sun-up. It's obvious our interest is to keep him alive.”

The lad agreed. His head was cut and he had not found his rifle. To imagine he could control a party of athletic men was ridiculous, and since they were friendly he must be resigned.

Not long before daybreak Deering woke up and looked about. Bob's pit-lamp, hanging from a beam, gave a dim light.

”h.e.l.lo! Jimmy's not back!”

Stannard looked at the others and thought them asleep. Motioning to Deering to follow, he went to the door. He had pulled off his boots and Deering trod like a cat.

”Jimmy will not come back. He started for the plains, across the neck.”

”You sent the kid across the hardest country in Alberta?”

”I don't know that I did send him; but we'll let it go. Jimmy's a mountaineer and he took the Indian.”

”Shucks!” said Deering. ”The Indian's a coast Siwash and not much use on the rocks. Jimmy's an English tenderfoot and has no _Chinook_. He can't talk to the Indian. I doubt if he's got a compa.s.s or a map.”

”He has my map and I imagine an Indian does not need a compa.s.s,”

Stannard rejoined. ”At all events, I didn't see another plan.”

Deering looked at him hard. ”Well, perhaps Jimmy's lucky because I was born and raised in the bush. Fix up a plausible tale for the policeman.

When he wakes I'll be hitting Jimmy's trail.”

He turned and his bulky figure melted in the dark. Stannard knew he was going to the barn to get food, and for a few moments knitted his brows.

Then he shrugged philosophically and went back to the house.

XV

TROOPER SIMPSON'S PRISONERS

Day broke drearily across the clearing. Mist rolled about the dark pines and when the wind got stronger the dark branches tossed. The loghouse was cold and trooper Simpson, turning over on the hard boards, s.h.i.+vered.

Then he remarked that although the pit-lamp had gone out the room was not dark and he was dully conscious that he had slept longer than he ought. After a few moments, his glance rested on an object covered by blankets at the other end of the room and he got up with a jerk.

His head hurt and he was dizzy. He now remembered that he had run against a stump and fallen into the ditch; but he must brace up and with something of an effort he crossed the floor. So far as he could see, the warden's eyes were shut and his face was pinched. All the same, Simpson thought he breathed and when he touched him his skin was not cold.