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He turned to Private Walthew, whose face, upon which the firelight fell, suggested intelligence and refinement. "What do you specialize in?" "Farriery," answered the young man, he might have added that extravagance had cut short his career as veterinary surgeon in the old country. "Knows a horse all over, outside and in," Sergeant Lane interposed.
He left the camp with Emile, and presently they heard the half-breed threatening the dogs; then Walthew's voice reached them and there was a hoarse and urgent tone in it. Springing up, they ran back along the trail and found Emile keeping off the dogs while Walthew bent over a dark object that lay half revealed in the clawed up snow.
"Looks as if they'd bolted," Walthew remarked. "I think I know where to find them." He left the camp with Emile and presently the others heard the half-breed threatening the dogs; then Walthew's voice reached them and there was a hoarse and urgent tone in it.
Blake did not answer, and soon afterwards Sergeant Lane came in with Walthew. Sergeant Lane sat by the camp fire in a straggling bluff, a notebook in his hand, while Emile repacked a quantity of provisions, the weight of which they had been carefully estimating.
"I expect you'll find a letter waiting for you at Sweetwater," Harding replied. Blake did not answer, and soon afterward Sergeant Lane came in with Walthew. The campfire burned brightly in a straggling bluff at the edge of the plain. The scattered trees were small and let in the cold wind, and the men were gathered close round the fire in a semi-circle on the side away from the smoke.
None of them volunteered, but when Lane gave Walthew a sharp order Blake and Harding joined them, and Harding afterward held the fur coat. Blake noticed that he folded and arranged it on his arm with what seemed needless care, though he first turned his back toward the others. Lane was now engaged in examining the body, and the men stood watching him, impressed by the scene.
"I allow that's why they sent him when I asked for a good dog driver, though in a general way our bosses aren't given to joking. Walthew will tell you there's a difference between physicking a horse and harnessing a sledge team." "It's marked," Walthew agreed with a chuckle. "When I first tried to put the traces on I thought they'd eat me.
"You've hit it first time. I'm Sergeant Lane, R.N.W.M.P. This" he indicated his companion "is Private Walthew. We've been up on a special patrol to Copper Lake and left two of the boys there to make some inquiries about the Indians. Now we're on the back trail." He looked as if he expected the others to return his confidence and Blake had no hesitation about doing so.
The Sergeant knelt down and carefully studied the dead man's pose before he added: "Looks as if he'd been caught in the blizzard and died of exposure; but that's a thing I've got to ascertain. I'll want somebody's help in getting him out of this big coat." None of them volunteered, but when Lane gave Walthew a sharp order Blake and Harding joined them and the latter afterwards held the fur coat.
"You've hit it first time. I'm Sergeant Lane, R.N.W.M.P. This" he indicated his companion "is Private Walthew. We've been up on a special patrol to Copper Lake, and left two of the boys there to make some inquiries about the Indians. Now we're on the back trail." He looked as if he expected the others to return his confidence, and Blake had no hesitation about doing so.
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