"Your clothes," he said.
Deering put on the clothes and packed up Jardine's to be thrown into the harbor. For a few days he stopped at the hotel, and then Neilson admitted that his inquiries about Douglas had not carried him far.
"We know where he is and he's very sick, but that's all," he said. "The police mean to use him and he can't be got at."
"Then, I'll start for the woods," said Deering. "The trouble is to hit the proper line. It's possible the police are willing to leave me alone, but I mustn't help them get on to Jimmy."
In the morning he started for New Westminster, although this was not the line to the mountains. At Westminster he vanished in the meadows along the Fraser, and after a time turned north into the woods. In order to rejoin Jimmy, he must follow the great river gorge, and at Mission he risked getting on board the cars. Nobody bothered him, and at length he labored one evening up the rugged valley in which was the shack. He had bought a skin coat and carried a heavy pack, but he was not warm. The sky was dark and threatening, the ground was hard, and a bitter wind shook the tops of the stiff pines. Deering thought snow was coming and pushed on as fast as possible, until he saw a gleam of light.
A big fire threw a cheerful glow about the shack and Jimmy occupied a pile of branches by the snapping logs. He had pulled a blanket over his shoulders, but when he heard Deering's step he jumped up. Deering dropped his load, straightened his back and looked about.
"Where's the Indian?"
"He's gone," said Jimmy. "I expect he had enough. In fact, I'd begun to feel I'd had enough, and when I heard your step my relief was pretty keen."
"Oh, well," said Deering. "Let's get supper and then we'll talk."
When he had satisfied his appetite he narrated his adventures and his meeting Laura and Dillon.