“SORRY, Cowley, but you’ll have to wear those clear into headquarters. I wouldn’t trust you an inch without ’em, either.”
Denis smiled genially at the swindler, who grunted sheepishly.
With Smoking Duck, they were seated about the ruins of Cowley’s table, enjoying the repast of venison and coffee which Denis had prepared.
Ballard and his friends had departed to the foot of the lake. Convinced of their going, Denis had taken a plunge in the creek and freshened himself, then had set about getting a meal.
He ate amid due precautions, however. Cowley wore his irons. Smoking Duck, with his hands free to eat, sat in the corner across the room from Denis’ rifle.
“I heard what you said to them fellers,” said Cowley gruffly. “Mister, I take off my hat to ye. As I said, I’ll have to take my med’cine, an’ I’ll hold it agin’ ye for a while, too—but you’re some man, believe me! Any one who can lick Jim Cowley, an’ then pull off the stunt ye pulled off on them——”
“Forget it!” smiled Denis.
“Ye would ha’ shot, wouldn’t ye?”
“Maybe I would,” nodded Denis, keeping a wary eye on Smoking Duck.
Before he could say more he was startled by a shadow’ at the doorway. Catching at his rifle, he whirled—to see the grinning face of the half-breed, Napoleon McShayne.
Behind McShayne were two other figures. One was the Slave Indian whom Denis had encountered on the upper Hay River, old John Tadeteecha, the other was a Slave unknown to Denis. These last two paused outside, while Napoleon entered.
Before the “Whatcheer!” of greeting had been exchanged, Denis had swiftly leaped at a scheme which would relieve him of much labor and trouble. No more speech passed for a moment, Napoleon filling a pipe with whittled tobacco; then, seeing that Smoking Duck had finished his meal, Denis ordered him to stand up.
“Tie that fellow’s hands behind his back, Poleon!” he directed. “Tie ’em tight, and do the job well!”
When the scowling Petwanisip was safely secured, Denis ordered him and Cowley outside, following them promptly.
“Now’, Poleon,” he went on, “you go around to that left-hand lean-to, and you’ll find a very good bunch of fur. Haul it all out here. You go and help him. John; I expect you traded some of those furs yourself,didn’t you? Well, you’ll get no more whisky here. Hop along, all of you!”
The two Slave Indians grinned as if at some excellent joke, and followed Napoleon. The three broke into the fur cache, and presently began to haul forth bale after bale of fur. Most of the pelts were common, two or three bales being separately wrapped and proving to contain some dark marten and cross fox pelts of better promise.
Two of these better bales Denis handed over to Napoleon, as the pay which he had promised for assistance rendered. The second Slave gave his name as Tommy, and it proved that he had come to get some whisky in return for a few sorry muskrat pelts. Dennis addressed him straightly:
“Tommy, you clear out of here in a hurry! These pelts are going to stay here till your people come for them. Spread the word that whoever has traded to Cowley for whisky can come and get his furs back; that ought to be simple enough, because each fur is marked by the man who caught it. Don’t try any stealing, or you’ll go to jail. Run along now!”
Tommy departed toward the creek, wondering.
“You ain’t goin’ to hand back all them peltries!” groaned Cowley, seeing the fruits of his long illegal labors thus scattered. “You got to take ’em along, by law——”
“I’m the law in this case,” snapped Denis. “You shut up! John, you and Napoleon come here!”
The two stood before him, grinning vacuously.
“I have to take these two prisoners up the Hay to my father’s homestead—you know the place, John. Did you take that message to my father?”
Old John nodded his head, and reported that all was well at the homestead. Denis continued:
“Napoleon, I want you to paddle them up in your dugout. John and I will come with you in my canoe. I’ll have to go all the way without sleep, and I won’t be able to put in any work at the paddle. After we get there, my brother will want to take these men on to the Peace River, and will probably hire you to help him. You take us up, as I have said, and I’ll promise you good pay in goods and tobacco. How about it?”
Neither of the aborigines was anxious to work, but on the other hand, Denis represented the law to them, and it is not wise to refuse aid to the law.
Five minutes later, with the two prisoners safely barred in the smaller room, Denis rolled up and lay down across the door. They were to start up lake at sunset, and until that time he was going to make up sleep in anticipation of his long watch on the river trail, for he would not dare trust either Indian to guard the prisoners.
“By Jasper!” he thought sleepily. “I’ve made good for Ben, after all. But, believe me, I’ve changed my mind about going into the mounted. Yes, sir; I’m contented to remain a plain, unadorned American—this law-and-order business is just a bit too strenuous for Trooper Stewart, substitute!”
The End.