“Remember, boy, this man is reckoned a desperate character, ready to go to any extreme to keep his liberty. Even your old comrades the Mounties have so far fallen down on the job of taking him in. He seems to play too slick a game for the whole posse and we understand that at least one officer has mysteriously disappeared when trying to track him to his lair. So make up your mind we’ll have to match wits with even Sherlock Holmes if we hope to get the better of this hard hitter.”
“What’s the name he goes by up there?” asked Perk.
“No name at all—they call him the Hawk, because he swoops down on his prey unawares and is absolutely merciless. Two gold prospectors who were said to have struck it rich somewhere further north have disappeared and it’s suspected they fell in a fight with his gang. Sometimes he’s here and in a few days they tell of him bobbing up a hundred miles away.”
“Jest like a flea,” suggested Perk, “gone afore you c’n put a finger on him. Wall, I kinder like the way our job’s laid out for us, partner. The bigger they are the harder they fall when Uncle Sam’s men get goin’. So we’re meanin’ to pick up a bunch o’ news at Spokane, are we? An’ if it’s a fair question, ol’ hoss, when do we cal’late to pull out o’ this burg?”
“No particular hurry, understand, Perk, we can take our own time going—slow and sure is to be our motto. But I’m a little like you in wanting to make a start, then, if we feel so disposed, we can loaf a while or turn aside if we see a chance to play a trick for Uncle Sam. That gives us a lot of leeway, you see.”
“Nearly two o’clock right now—c’n we get off this afternoon, partner?” hinted the anxious one, appealingly.
“By four we ought to be on our way, buddy. Now let’s get busy!”
VIII
THE TAKE-OFF
Jack was sorry that, owing to their pulling out so soon, he would not be able to visit the hospital again as he had planned and upon mentioning this fact to his companion, Perk shrugged his shoulders as he said:
“That’s a downright shame, I’d say, partner, fact is, I depended on you to find out what Adrian’s last name was—save me a wheen o’ worriment if on’y I knowed it—somethin’ that rhymed with Barnum—Bernard—Burling—Berwind—hang the luck, jest why does this ol’ short memory for names bob up to bother a feller when we’re startin’ off on a big spin an’ may never see thet lady an’ little Adrian again? Seems I’m jest goin’ to speak the right word, an’ then, shucks! it misses connection like, an’ leaves me a gropin’ in the dark.”