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Updated: May 12, 2025
The cabin in the yard was utterly quiet. There was no hint of the seven or eight men who rested on their arms behind its half-open door. The master of the house crossed the stile, the low sun shining on his shock of gray hair, and stood before the man-hunter. He spoke so that his voice carried to the waiting group in the road.
I had made this reconnoissance while my companion was engaged in fastening his pirogue to the tree. I had finished my survey as he entered. "Now, mass'," said he, "dis am ole Gabe's nest; de dam man-hunter no found 'im yeer." "Why, you are quite at home here, Gabriel! How did you ever find such a place?" "Lor', mass', knowd it long time.
But Kent possessed an unswerving passion to grip at facts in detail, a characteristic that had largely helped him to earn the reputation of being the best man-hunter in all the northland service. So he had insisted, and his surgeon friend had explained.
The man-hunter had taken the precaution to empty the chambers of Falkner's revolver and rifle and throw his cartridges out in the snow. But his skinning-knife was still in its sheath and belt, and he buckled it about his waist. He had no thought of killing Carr, though he hated the man almost to the point of murder. But his lips set in a grim smile as he thought of what he WOULD do.
He did not know that Breault was the best man-hunter in "N" Division, which reached from Athabasca Landing to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two thousand-mile stretch of the Three River Country he was known as Shingoos, the Ferret. The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father's shoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and breathed deeply.
"Throw up your hands there, you with the light!" cried the officer. "I ain't going to throw up my hands," Tommy called out with a chuckle, "but if it'll give you any satisfaction, I'll throw up my job as a man-hunter. I have no further use for it!" "That must be the Boy Scouts," the voice of the Sweetwater sheriff said. "I wonder how they got here."
"Evidently it was either this man, or friends of his, who fastened the door of the cabin, and fired it with the hope of destroying the detective who was dogging them so closely." "True, I had thought of that." "And here's another thing." "Well?" "May not this Vander and his friends conclude that the man-hunter perished in the flames, if they fail to see him again?
If I had not married Julia, I fear Polly Ochiltree would have married me by main force, as she would marry you or any other gentleman unfortunate enough to fall in the way of this twice-widowed man-hunter. When my wife died, three years ago, her sister Polly offered to keep house for me and the child.
As for you, most of the boys sort of stand in awe of you, wouldn't dare talk marrying to you even in the height of delirium tremens. The only men who have ever had courage to make any display in that direction are Inspector Fyles, when his duty brings him in the neighborhood of Rocky Springs, and a dypsomaniac rancher and artist, to wit, Charlie Bryant. And how do you take it? You a man-hunter?
By the time you get tired of chasing me you should be a pretty good man-hunter. But just now you lack finesse, Cassidy you lack finesse." And Jolly Roger's chuckle broke into another laugh. Cassidy heaved out a grunt. "It's luck just damned luck!" he growled. "If it is, I hope it keeps up," said Jolly Roger. "Now, look here, Cassidy! Let's make a man's bet of it.
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