Devreaux nodded towards a sheltercloth that he had staked up, forester fashion, in front of the fire. He was a fastidious campaigner, and during Dexter's absence had taken the trouble to shingle a foot-deep couch of feathery balsam tips. "You'd better turn in and try to sleep."
The girl accepted the invitation with a slight nod, took the blanket the colonel gave her, and crept underneath the shelter cloth. Devreaux glanced after her, and then turned ruefully to the corporal. "It's the snow for you and me to-night, both tugging on your blanket," he remarked in an undertone.
"What do you make of her?" asked Dexter, as they stepped beyond earshot of the tent.
"Pretty, sweet-looking girl," muttered the superintendent. "It goes hard to think evil things about her. But I've had some beautiful illusions smashed in my time, and I learned long ago that you never can tell by appearances. You can bank on one thing: she never found her way alone into this back-of-beyond country. She's got friends hereabouts, and whoever they are, I've a feeling it'll be a good job when we put hands on 'em."
Dexter looked dubiously at his chief, but made no comment. "What are you going to do with her?" he asked after a moment.
"Hang on to her. Lodge some kind of a complaint, and wait until we get the real facts. One of us had better take her down to Fort Dauntless, where we'll have her safe."
Devreaux eyed the corporal for a moment with a peculiar slanting of his heavy brows. "On the other hand, we want this 'Pink' Crill, and whoever's with him—and we want 'em badly. One of us has got to stay behind and tackle that business." He cast a squinting glance skyward, and shook his head. "The difficulty is that big snow is due to fly almost any day. Once the pass is choked this country will be shut off from the outside world. Whichever one of us stays behind is almost certain to be stuck here until spring. Which job do you choose—Fort Dauntless or Crill?"
Dexter grinned. It was a tradition in the mounted that an officer never assigned a subordinate to any task, dangerous or disagreeable, that the officer was not perfectly willing to undertake himself. He knew that the superintendent was sincere in his offer, and that the decision rested with him.
"You're needed at the post," said the corporal at once. "I'll go after Crill, of course."
The older man nodded curtly. "Graves and I picketed our horses by the forks in the lower valley. I'll cache all my extra grub there where you can find it, and you'll weather the winter all right, even if the snow catches you."