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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Wife, pard?" asked Breem, gently, nodding toward the bed. Bennett hastily introduced him. "Kid, pard?" Breem pointed a stubby finger at the little bundle. Bennett nodded.
Just with his little daughter, in a cart, shouting "Pilchards, fresh pilcha-a-rds, breem, pullock, fresh pullock, pil-cha-a-rds" at the top of his stentorian voice a living example of the value of "the club," and of the principle of insurance! At length the business of the day came to a close.
"Peart as peart, Pose." Breem waited a little, twirling his cap, but receiving a sharp thump from Thomson, went on: "The boys, pard, are anxious about the little critter. They're kind of hankering, pard, and, mum, if you are willin', and ain't 'fraid to trust her with us, why, we'd be mighty glad to tote her just for a few minutes over to camp. The boys are stiddy, all of 'em, stiddy as churches.
I'd be sure to calk a hoss or split a runner, or somethin'. Go on!" Breem knocked, and both went in. "All right, pard?" "Right as right, Pose," said Joe Bennett. "Wife all right?" Breem turned toward the bed, and Mrs. Bennett smiled up at him with happy eyes, and with a bit of colour already showing in her pale face. Breem smiled back broadly. Then he asked, "And, pard, the baby?"
There was a rumour in the camp that Posey Breem had not always been the man that he was that a woman had once blessed his life. But since they had carried the young mother away, with her dead baby on her breast, to place the two in one deep grave together, he had gone steadily downward.
With hungry eyes Breem gazed at the scene in the poor little house, his thoughts flying backward over the years. A sudden sharp, impatient whistle roused him, and he strode hastily back to the waiting men. "Well, Pose?" interrogated Skid impatiently. "He's there, all right," said Breem, in a peculiar tone.
But Breem only said, his keen eyes twinkling: "Under such circumstances as these, pard, you're welcome to all the hosses in Beetle Ring." With steady, practiced hand Skid Thomson guided his powerful team through the deep snow, over the rough forest road; and sometimes brawny arms carried the sleigh bodily over the roughest places.
At the close of the day an anxious consultation took place in the big main room of Beetle Ring, and presently two men appeared outside. They walked slowly toward what had been the camp's storeroom, but halted before the door hesitatingly. "You go in ahead, Skid, and ask 'em," said Breem, earnestly, to his companion. "No, go ahead yourself, Pose.
The men were now filling up the little space before the shack. Directly there came a sounding knock. Bennett opened the door to admit the burly frame of Posey Breem. He said quietly: "I'm here all right, Pose, and I took your horse, but " "Burn the hoss!" said Breem explosively. "That's all right. Shake, pard!" He held out a brawny hand. Bennett "shook" wonderingly.
Silently and sullenly the men filed in to breakfast. In a lumberman's eyes hardly a crime could exceed that of horse stealing. "What I want to know is," said Breem, as he glanced sharply round the long room of the camp, "what's become of that yellow-haired jay Bennett?" "By George!" said Skid Thomson, "that's right! Where is the critter?"
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