"Verra weel. Bob's in the rocks. Are ye for tracking the man?"
"By and by he must come down for food. When he does come down we'll try to find him."
"Bob's a good bushman," Jardine remarked. "I alloo the police will not hit his trail, but maybe he will not bother to watch out for us——" He stopped and gave Margaret a thoughtful look when he resumed: "Bob would reckon to find out who shot Douglas is no' our job."
"The job is ours," said Margaret quietly, but Jardine thought the blood came to her skin. She, however, got up and when she had put out the plates for breakfast went to bed.
In the morning Jardine gave Jimmy boots and clothes, and two days afterwards loaded him with all the supplies he would carry. After breakfast Jimmy strapped on his pack, but when he was ready to go he hesitated. The loghouse was warm and home-like, and for two days he had rested and enjoyed Margaret's society. Now he must plunge into the wilds, he frowned. The snow was creeping down the rocks and a cold wind wailed in the dark pine-tops. Then Jimmy turned to his hosts and forced a smile.
"You have given me all I needed; I knew you would see me out."
"Sure thing," said Jardine. "In the bush, your friends' job is to see ye oot."
"You are useful friends," Jimmy replied with a touch of emotion. "All the same, I feel I ought not to bother you; I ought to start for the railroad and give myself up to the police. If Douglas was hurt by my carelessness, I ought to pay."
"You mustn't go yet," said Margaret firmly. "You don't altogether know the carelessness was yours, and perhaps it was not. Somehow I think we will find out."
"Ah," said Jimmy, "if you do find out the shot wasn't mine—— But I doubt and the doubt weighs on me."