Benson looked up eagerly.
"You're going to bring him here? It's a daring plan, because it will be difficult to make him come."
"He'll come it he values his life," Harding said resolutely. "The
Indian will take me to the village, and perhaps see me through if I
offer him enough; he seems to have some grudge against the Stonies.
I'll have to drop in upon the doctor late at night, when none of his
Indian friends are about."
"But who'll look after Blake? He can't be left."
"That's your part. You'd run more risk than I would, and I'm his partner."
"I'd hate to stay," Benson protested. "You know how I'm indebted to
Blake."
"It's your place," Harding insisted. "Try to arrange the thing with the Indian."
It took some time, but the man proved amenable. He frankly owned that he would not have ventured near the Stony camp alone, because of some quarrel between its inhabitants and his tribe, originating, Benson gathered, over a dispute about trapping grounds; but he was ready to accompany the white man, if the latter went well armed.
"All right; that's settled. We start at daybreak," said Harding.
"I'll lie down now; it's your watch."
Five minutes later he was sound asleep, and awoke, quietly determined and ready for the march, in the cold of dawn. He was a man of the cities, bred to civilized life, but he had a just appreciation of the risks attached to his undertaking. He meant to abduct the doctor, who himself was dangerous to meddle with, from an Indian village where he apparently was held in great esteem. The Stonies, living far remote, had escaped the chastening influence of an occasional visit from the patrols of the North-West Police; they knew nothing of law and order. Moreover, there was a possibility that Clarke might prove too clever for his abductor.