"To the last can o' beans!"
"And your plan, Donald?"
All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as he came nearer to Aldous.
"Get out of Tête Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice that quivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into the mountains with our outfit—far enough back—and then wait!"
"Wait?"
"Yes—wait. If they follow us—fight!"
Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily they looked into each other's eyes.
Then John Aldous spoke:
"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night—it is impossible."
The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop came into MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despair settled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's hand more firmly.