Fraser turned to Marylyn. "Phew! But we're important! Listen to him!"
"Dallas wants to get back to the shack. Can a' ordinary, everyday trooper look after the finest two-year-old and the finest team in Dakota? Not by a long shot! And I'm not going to let her go alone," soberly, "after what's happened. Can't take any more chances."
Fraser sobered too. "Nothing to fear any more," he said. "When Mike's men were getting the boat off, down below, they found—him."
A moment's silence.
"They think he tried to cross and couldn't. There he was, tangled up in some willows, poor devil."
"That ought to explain some things to the Captain," said Lounsbury, in a low voice.
"Yes. And it will satisfy the K. O., I'm pretty sure. An officer's not to be blamed so much for things going wrong when the traitor's practically within the lines. The K. O. himself could have had that fire."
"Well, Dallas." Lounsbury was cheery again. "You and Marylyn own the Bend, sure enough."
There was a knock at the door. Then, with a great show of backing and coughing, young Jamieson appeared.
"Frank," said Lounsbury, "quit your nonsense and tell us about the other side. Did the scout find anything?"