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There ain't a telephone closer'n the Sawtooth, and that there's a good twenty mile and more from where Brit was hurt. It's damn funny." "Yes, it is," Lorraine admitted uncomfortably. "I don't know any more than you do about it." "Well, how'n 'ell did it happen? Brit, he oughta know enough to rough-lock down that hill. An' that team ain't a runaway team.

With a rope rough-lock around the sled runners, one man took the gee pole and another the handle-bars and each spread-eagled himself through the loose deep snow to check the momentum of the sled, until sled and men turned aside and came to a stop in a drift to avoid a steep, smooth pitch.

Swan had not told him of anything but the runaway, and of helping to carry Brit home and of the "damn funny thing about the chain" the rough-lock, he must have meant. Too well Lone understood the sinister meaning that probably lay behind that phrase. "They've started on the Quirt now," he told himself with foreboding. "She's been telling her father " Lone fell into bitter argument with himself.

We paid off the Indians, and got some sleighs and sleighed the stuff down the hill. This hill goes down pretty swift, and then drops at an angle of fifty-five degrees for about forty feet, and we had to rough-lock our sleighs and let them go. There was an awful fog, and we could not see where we were going.

But Caroline kicked my horse down off the road, and, I only saw him a minute but it must have been dad. And then, a little way down the hill, something went wrong." Frank seemed trying to reconstruct the accident from Lorraine's description. "He'd no business to start down if his rough-lock wasn't all right," he said. "It ain't like him. Brit's careful about them things little men most always are.

Brit, he reasoned, could not have known before he started that his rough-lock had been tampered with, else he would have fixed it. Neither was Brit the man to forget the brake on his load. If Brit lived, he might talk as much as he pleased, but he could never prove that his accident had been deliberately staged with murderous intent.

There ain't a telephone closer'n the Sawtooth, and that there's a good twenty mile and more from where Brit was hurt. It's damn funny." "Yes, it is," Lorraine admitted uncomfortably. "I don't know any more than you do about it." "Well, how'n 'ell did it happen? Brit, he oughta know enough to rough-lock down that hill. An' that team ain't a runaway team.

"You rough-lock your jaw, Pete, an' we'll take care o' the sheep. Lie still, now!" But Pete moaned and turned his head from side to side with his last strength. "Mais mais oui! ze sheep!" He again stuttered words meaningless to his hearers who, of course, had no Basque at command. But here and there were words of English and French, and even some Spanish, which most of them understood a little.

Brit, he reasoned, could not have known before he started that his rough-lock had been tampered with, else he would have fixed it. Neither was Brit the man to forget the brake on his load. If Brit lived, he might talk as much as he pleased, but he could never prove that his accident had been deliberately staged with murderous intent.

But Caroline kicked my horse down off the road, and I only saw him a minute but it must have been dad. And then, a little way down the hill, something went wrong." Frank seemed trying to reconstruct the accident from Lorraine's description. "He'd no business to start down if his rough-lock wasn't all right," he said. "It ain't like him. Brit's careful about them things little men most always are.