"I'm going to marry your cousin when she is willing."
"Sure," said Peter. "You reckoned to get married at the Mission?"
"That is so. So far, Margaret refuses."
Peter knitted his brows. "Sometimes I don't see what Sadie gets after and I sure can't calculate Margaret's notion. Women beat me. All the same, it's plain she thinks you a white man, and Margaret's not a fool. Now we'll let it go. Say, did you plug the warden?"
"It looks like that," Jimmy replied. "However, if I did hit the fellow, I didn't know I was shooting at a man."
"Very well! You can't get down the main track to the coast, because the police will reckon on your going there and watch the stations. I'd make for the plains and then shove south for Montana."
"That was Stannard's plan."
Peter smiled scornfully. "You were to cross the rocks and carry your grub and camping truck? Shucks! An old-time prospector might make it; you could not. You've got to lie up at the trapper's shack until we look about. Maybe we can fix it to ship you out of the mountains on board a construction train that sometimes runs down to a station on the Calgary side. Well, let's make our packs and catch the horse."
They got to work and after the horse was caught, Peter turned back to the house, but Jimmy stopped. "I must talk to Margaret for a few minutes," he said.
Margaret came out to him. Her look was quiet but he knew her resolute.