"This'll do," said Hank shortly. "Slip off yer snowshoes and rake the snow up from a central point; that'll leave a deep little hole to shelter us. See here, Beaver Jack, you keep a bright eye open for us. Ef we comes bowling along on a sleigh, get a hold of that sleigh rope of yours, leap aboard us, and make fast. Ef we comes runnin' out, jest see that you shoot at them critters who'll be follerin' and not at us."
That was his farewell to the Redskin. He and Joe helped to erect the wall of snow, and then, leaving Beaver Jack to complete the task, strode on again towards the camp which they had vacated for the benefit of the enemy. Under one arm the little hunter carried a ball of snow, which seemed somewhat curious and unnecessary, especially considering the fact that the ground was thickly covered with the same material. But within the snow there was something of greater value.
"It's that chunk o' meat," Hank had explained, when he first produced his burden. "I set it over the fire till it was wellnigh cooked and the frost driven out of it altogether. Then I cut it into pieces, packed them close in a piece of skin from one o' the beasts we shot, and wrapped the whole again in snow, which'll help to keep the heat in and the cold out. Sounds rummy, don't it? But it'll work handsome."
"Now, young chap," he whispered, when he and our hero had parted from the Redskin and were within three hundred yards of the enemy, "we've got to decide how we'll work this business. How's it to be?"
"You take the dogs," said Joe at once. "I'll tackle Hurley."
"But—but you ain't going to kick up a rumpus with him, surely!" exclaimed Hank, sinking his voice till it was almost inaudible, and almost hissing the words. "It aer the sleigh we want, two of 'em ef we could manage it, though that ain't possible. Ef we get away with one, only four of the critters can follow, and what's four after so many? You ain't after Hurley?"
He was answered by a vigorous shake of the head. "No, I don't want any struggle; I wouldn't shoot the fellow if I had the opportunity."
"Wouldn't ye? Then I would, me lad. It aer human nature to look to number one fust. When a man murders, and aer wanted by the hangman, when he begins trying his best to murder others, then's the time fer him to go under. Hurley has my bullet fust time I kin look straight along the barrel. But what aer you after?"
"I don't know. I want to see what he's doing. I want to find out if he has that envelope he stole from me so many months ago now."
Hank's head shot up quickly. He was a man with such a vast experience of life, and had encountered so many strange happenings, that he was not inclined to think a thing impossible till he had proved it to be so. There was that envelope, to be sure. Joe had often spoken about it. He had told Hank the whole story, how there was something within the envelope which he could have read had he chosen, though against his dead father's wishes. The contents, in fact, were for perusal only when he had made good, when he had fought his own battles. And Hank had been impressed by the recital.