But his mind was made up. A new hope lightened his despair. “No! He might get me. Then you’d starve to death. I don’t mean to let him get me, but I can’t take the chance. I’ll travel faster light. Even if I don’t get him to-day, he shan’t shake me off. The river is bound to get more difficult as he goes up. And it’s prairie-land above.”
He hastened to get together his pack: gun and ammunition, knife, hatchet, matches, and a little cooking-pot; a small store of flour, salt, baking-powder and smoked meat.
“Mary, as soon as you feel able to travel, you are to start down-stream in the canoe with the woman. It is up to you to take her out, and deliver her to the authorities. The charge is attempted murder. You are to tell John Gaviller everything that has happened, and let him act accordingly.”
All this was said in low tones to keep it from reaching the breed woman’s ears. Stonor now dropped to his knees and put his lips to Mary’s ear. “Tell Gaviller we know for sure that Imbrie is trying to escape over the mountains by way of the head-waters of the Swan, and to make sure that he is intercepted there if he slips through our fingers below.”
“I onerstan’,” said Mary.
He gave her a pull from his flask, and she was able to sit up and attend to the dressing of her own wound.
In ten minutes Stonor was ready to start. He put on a cheery air for Mary’s benefit. Truly the Indian woman had a task before her that might have appalled the stoutest-hearted man.
“Good-bye, Mary!” he said, gripping her hand. “You’re a good pardner. I shan’t forget it. Keep up a good heart. Remember you’re a policeman now. Going down you’re only about three days’ journey from Myengeen’s village. And you’ll have company—though I can’t recommend it much. Keep the gun in your own hands.”
Mary shrugged, with her customary stoicism. “I make her work for me.” She added simply: “Good-bye, Stonor. Bring her back safe.”
“I won’t come without her,” he said, and with a wave of his hand struck into the bush.