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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I ate it up," was the reply, unimpeachably honest. "That sack's all that's left. Give me a few. You can have the rest." "Ate 'em up!" Shorty screamed. "A whole sack! An' them geezers dyin' for want of 'em! This for you! An' this! An' this! An' this! You swine! You hog!" The first kick tore Wentworth away from his embrace of Smoke's knees. The second kick turned him over in the snow.
Smoke's reluctance at raising excitement with the aid of Lucille Arral was too patent for her to miss. "I'm not thinking what you are thinking at all, thank you," she chided, with a laugh and a pout. "When I throw myself at your head you'll have to have more eyes and better ones than you have now to see me."
From beneath, thin and faint, came the murmur of running water, and Smoke's eyes involuntarily wavered to a glimpse of the shimmering depths. He jerked them back to the way before him. Two-thirds over, he came to the depression. The sharp edges of the crack, but slightly touched by the sun, showed how recent it was.
Smoke felt the rope tauten in a futile effort, then the pace quickened, and as he went past his previous lodgment and over the bulge the last glimpse he caught of Carson he was turned over, with madly moving hands and feet striving to overcome the downward draw. To Smoke's surprise, as he went over the bulge, there was no sheer fall.
"Want to talk with you a moment." "Fire away," Smoke answered genially. "What'd you pay old Sanderson twenty-five thousan' for? Will you answer that?" "Bill, you give me a pain," was Smoke's reply. "I came over here for a country residence, so to say, and here are you and a gang trying to cross-examine me when I'm looking for peace an' quietness an' breakfast.
Do you mind if I stop a minute and clear my head? Then I'll make those heel-holds deeper so I can heave you up." Smoke's heart warmed. "Look here, Carson. The thing for you to do is to cut the rope. You can never get me up, and there's no use both of us being lost. You can make it out with your knife." "You shut up!" was the hurt retort. "Who's running this?"
I'll take in the slack. You just keep a-coming. That's it. Easy. Easy." Smoke was still a dozen feet away when the final collapse of the bridge began. Without noise, but in a jerky way, it crumbled to an increasing tilt. "Quick!" Carson called, coiling in hand-over-hand on the slack of the rope which Smoke's rush gave him.
"Sure an' I didn't know there was so many," he explained. "I done it in the dark. But they're worth good money. An' with all this ammunition we'll be gettin' game a-plenty." "The wolves will eat you a-plenty," was Smoke's hopeless comment, while Labiskwee's eyes flashed their anger.
Fires had been lighted at the corners, and by each fire stood a policeman, list in hand, checking off the names of the runners. A man was supposed to call out his name and show his face. There was to be no staking by proxy while the real racer was off and away down the creek. At the first corner, beside Smoke's stake, Von Schroeder placed his. The mallets struck at the same instant.
This might appear to be a very small matter, and hardly worthy of notice; but according to Frank's view it was apt to prove of considerable moment, in view of what was likely to follow. "Well, as the smoke's gone again, let's see if we can locate it by moving a little this way," and Frank led off as he spoke, with Bob following. Both lads were very cautious now.
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