"There's the trouble; they're not all his friends," Deering rejoined. "On the whole, I'd sooner the police got him than he crossed the range with the other lot. But we'll talk about this again. When can you start?"
"I can start as soon as my horse is loaded up, but we have got to bluff the policeman. He mustn't see us take the mountain trail. Well, I've pork and flour and groceries. Have you got all you want?"
"I want a Hudson's Bay blanket and a pack-rope," said Deering and gave Peter a roll of bills. "Then you had better buy a frying-pan and grub-hoe."
"Very well. Go ahead up the trail across the clearing and wait for me by the creek," said Peter and returned to the store.
After a time he rejoined Deering and tied his loaded horse to a branch.
"The storekeeper knows I hit the Green Lake trail, and we don't want the cayuse. When we have sorted out the truck we need, he'll make the ranch all right. Light the lantern and we'll fix our packs."
Deering lighted the lantern and after a few minutes strapped a bag of food on his back. He pushed his folded blanket through the straps, gave Peter the rope, and picked up the grub-hoe, a Canadian digging tool very like a mountaineer's ice-ax. Then they put out the light, let the horse go, and went back quietly to the railroad. Nobody was about, and stealing across the line, they plunged into the gloom.
"My luck's good," said Deering. "When I think about all we're up against, I sure want it good."