At this season in the latitude of Caribou night is brief. The sun sinks but a little way below the horizon, and a faint glow hovers over his head all night, travelling around the northern horizon to the east, where it heralds his reappearance.
It was light in the east now and the lake was stepping into view. Big Jack searched its misty expanse with his keen little eyes.
By and by as the light strengthened, looking down-shore he saw a tiny, dark object steal beyond the next point and become silhouetted against the grey. There could be no doubt of what it was. The lust of pursuit flamed up in the man's heart. He forgot his prudent advice to his mates.
"Making for the foot of the lake," he thought. "And the wind's against them. It's rising. I could easy ride around the shore and cut them off."
He got up and made his way with energetic action back to the stable.
He had no sooner picked up a saddle than Joe came in. They looked each other over without speaking. Joe made for another saddle.
"You're free to go where you want," said Jack grimly. "I've only got to say I choose to ride alone."
"I don't care how you ride," retorted Joe. "Keep out of my business, that's all."
They saddled their horses in silence.
Joe said at last with a sneer: "Thought you told us to sit down and shut up."