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Updated: June 14, 2025
He left the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spread out his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug a hole through the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited for ten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crust of snow. With his eye close to the aperture he could see Breault.
If it's a boy it's Roger if it's a girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. Silly bunch, aren't they? A couple of young fools " Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life of François Breault.
And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to tell her of the interesting discovery which Breault had made and to kiss her. McKay stroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He could no longer hear the storm, and he wondered if the fury of it was spent. Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall.
He felt Peter suddenly stiffen under his hand, and from the Leaf Bud came a low, swift word of warning. She began singing softly, and dishes and pans already clean rattled under her hands in the kitchen, and she continued to sing even as the cabin door opened and Breault the man-hunter stood in it.
For Breault knew dogs possibly even better than he knew men, and not by the smallest sign did he give Peter to understand that he was interested in him at all. He washed his dishes, whistling and humming, reloaded his pack on the raft, and once more began poling his way downstream. Peter, still in the edge of the scrub, was not only puzzled, but felt a further sense of abandonment.
"Still it's safer," argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. "Hold out one hand, please " The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist. "I'm Breault not Terence Cassidy," he chuckled. "Never take a chance, you know. Never!" Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion bracelet snapped over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a grin.
Breault saw this restlessness, and understood it. "I'll keep my eye on the dog," he thought. "He has a nose, and an uncanny sixth sense, and I haven't either. He will bear watching. I believe McKay and the girl cannot be far away. Possibly they have traveled more slowly than I thought, and haven't passed this ridge; or it may be they are down there, in the plain.
He struck a straight line for his cabin after that first day and night in the scrub timber. The storm was still a thing of terrific force out on the barren, but in the timber he was fairly well sheltered. He was convinced the police patrol would find his cabin very soon after the storm had worn itself out. Porter and Tavish did not trouble him. But from Breault he knew there was no getting away.
But with forest-bred caution he still traveled slowly, though his blood was burning like a pitch-fed fire in his veins. Almost as swiftly followed Breault behind him. Again came darkness, and then the moon, brighter than last night, lighting his way between the two walls of the forest.
And when at last Porter turned in, and slept, the Ferret sat up, and stretched himself. McKay had finished his room, and was beginning a tunnel which would lead as a back door out of the drift, when Breault came in and picked up the snowshoe which Porter had used. "I'll take my turn," he said. "I'm a bit nervous, and not at all sleepy, Cummings." He began digging into the snow.
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