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Updated: June 8, 2025
Tossing the horse-blankets on top of the big tarpaulin which lay in the rear of the sled-box ready for use in the covering of supplies, he settled himself in front and pulled the robes about him. He turned the team slowly onto the tote-road and glanced again toward the shack.
Toward dusk the party left the river and turned into a tote-road that writhed away under snow-laden spruces and hemlocks, coiled its way about rocky hummocks, and curved in "whip-lashes" up precipitous hillsides. There was not a break in the forest that stretched away on either hand.
As the banker came toward them, McNabb stared about him in evident perplexity, his glance shifting from the piles of tarpaulin-covered material, to the loaded trucks that with a clash and grind of gears were just pulling out upon the new tote-road that stretched away between the tall balsam spires to the southward.
The following morning Sheridan and Appleton appeared with mysteriously bulging packs, and weary from their three nights' battle with the slippery, ice-crusted tote-road. In the filthy office of the camp on the Lower Blood River, Buck Moncrossen sat at his desk and glowered over his report sheets.
"Sure I did," grinned McNabb. "He was havin' the time of his life, an' I hated to spoil it. An' besides, while he was talkin', truck after truck was rollin' off down the tote-road haulin' material to my mill site that I'll buy in at ten cents on the dollar. Orcutt'll pay for his fun!" "But your face when he told you that you had lost the timber! It positively went gray!"
When they reached the tote-road it seemed rougher than ever and the country wilder. To her right Madge could see the river that was nothing but a winding jumble of snow-capped rocks and grinding ice, with here and there patches of inky-looking water, where the ice-crust had split asunder.
"Well, he did an' he didn't," replied the old man slowly. "Ut's loike this: Along in July, ut wuz, Moncrossen an' his gang av bur-rd's-eye pirates come roarin' out av th' woods huntin' fer Creed. They'd wint in be th' river, but come out be th' tote-road, an' mad clean t'rough to th' gizzard.
He found out promptly when he ordered his swampers to advance with their axes and begin chopping down the trees on the right of way. At the first "chock" ringing out on the crisp silence of the woods Ward came running down the snowy stretch of tote-road, presenting much the same appearance as would an up reared and enraged polar bear.
Of course the man must be honest and worthy of your trust. After all that you underwent from the first moment of your being left alone on the tote-road I cannot wonder at your desire to go away. But I feel that without you I could never have pulled through and that by this time the prospect of a life spent without you is unbearable. I am not begging you humbly for your love.
At some distance down the tote-road an old man was crouching beside a moose sled. On the sled was the carcass of a deer. Parker realized that this old man must be a poacher. An assassin sent after a man would not be wasting his ammunition on deer in close time. The old man remained motionless, with the stolidity of the veteran hunter waiting to make sure. Torpor rapidly seized on Parker's mind.
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