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Updated: May 12, 2025
Oosimisk, with the caution of her race in moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the windows, and Father John smiled his approbation. He did not want Breault, the man-hunter, peering through one of the windows at him. Even as he walked back and forth he listened intently for Breault's footsteps.
"So ye see," said the farmer a man named Nicholls despondently, "he's som'eres skulkin' around hyar." "Seems like it," acquiesced Scipio. Then, of a sudden, a suspicion flashed through the other's mind, and the man-hunter spent an uncomfortable few seconds. "Say, you're lookin' fer him?" the farmer questioned harshly. Then he leant forward, his eyes lighting with sudden anger.
Within him the hound-like instincts of the man-hunter rose swiftly to the suspicion of invisible presence. He began to note the changes in the cries of certain birds. A hundred yards on his right a jay, most talkative of all the forest things, was screeching with a new note in its voice.
Oosimisk, with the caution of her race in moments of danger, was drawing the curtains at the windows, and Father John smiled his approbation. He did not want Breault, the man-hunter, peering through one of the windows at him. Even as he walked back and forth he listened intently for Breault's footsteps.
They did not hurry, for McKay had faith in Cassidy's word. He knew the red-headed man-hunter would not break his promise he would wait the full two hours in Indian Tom's cabin, and another five minutes after that.
The detective did not hesitate to follow, but he made a miscalculation, owing to his bodily weakness, and instead of landing on his feet, he came down with stunning force across one of the rails. Dyke Darrel lay insensible, like one dead. Had his enemy come upon him then he might have finished the career of the daring man-hunter, without the least danger to himself.
Conniston would never know how near the final breakdown his brain had been in that hour when he made him a prisoner. And Keith had not told him. The man-hunter had saved him from going mad. But Keith had kept that secret to himself. Even now he shrank down as a blast of wind shot out of the chaos above and smote the cabin with a shriek that had in it a peculiarly penetrating note.
The road along which he was passing had on both sides of it a row of big cottonwoods, whose branches met in an arch above. Dick, with that instinct for safety which every man-hunter has learned, walked down the middle of the street, eyes and ears alert for the least sign of an ambush. Two men approached on the plank sidewalk. They were quarreling.
With the swift directness of the trained man-hunter Philip had measured his chances of winning. The Eskimos, first of all, would gather about their dead. After one or two formalities they would join in a chattering council, all of which meant precious time for them. The pursuit would be more or less cautious because of the bullet hole in the Kogmollock's forehead.
And Kent spoke her name gently as he saw her great, wide eyes blazing dully their agony and despair. Then, like one stunned and fascinated, she stared down upon Kedsty again. Every instinct of the man-hunter became alive in Kent's brain as he, too, turned toward the Inspector of Police. Kedsty's arms hung limp over the side of his chair. On the floor under his right hand was his Colt automatic.
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