"When I can loose my belt I'll read you the warrant. The charge is killing game-warden Douglas."
"Then Douglas is dead?" said Stannard in a quiet voice.
"He died four or five days since," the sergeant replied.
"Ah!" said Stannard, and braced himself. "Well, I have nothing to state. I reserve my defense——"
"Stop him!" shouted the sergeant, and leaped across the snow.
Stannard stepped back, stumbled on the steep bank and vanished.
For a moment Jimmy, numbed by horror, wondered whether his imagination had cheated him. Then he saw Stannard was really gone and he ran for the ledge. The others joined him, but Stannard was not on the ledge. Two or three hundred feet below a dark object rolled down a long slab and at the bottom plunged into a gulf where the gray mist tossed.
"He's gone," Deering remarked to the sergeant. "Perhaps you'll find him when the snow melts."
They went back to the spot where they had left their packs and ropes. For a time all were quiet, and then the sergeant said to Deering: "He beat me, but I don't get it yet. I didn't reckon on his going over; he stated he reserved his defense."
"Perhaps he was rash," Deering remarked in a thoughtful voice. "In the meantime, however, we must let it go and think about getting down to the bush. How did you find us?"