'You're a lot safer up here than you'd be down in Manitoba.'
'I'd like to be back,' said the hunter; 'and I'm going by next boat, whether the hunting's good or bad. I'd no right to leave the wife and children in these bad times. How can I tell what's going on while I'm away up here? If they were all dead and planted, I'd be none the wiser.'
Winton stretched himself, accompanying the action with a subdued laugh.
'You're a terrible croaker, Sinclair. Why don't you look on the bright side? It's just as easy, and a lot pleasanter.'
The old hunter rose. 'Don't know how it is, Winton, but I feel sort of low-spirited just now.'
'That's something new. What's wrong?'
'Uneasy, I guess. Well, I'm off. It'll be dark presently.'
He picked up his rifle and prepared to move. 'I've no use for fooling around in the forest at this time. It isn't healthy. There's too much mischief drifting up, and a fellow never knows when it's going to break. You'll wait here till I'm up with the horses, eh?'
'I'll watch the meat and finish my smoke.'
'That's it. Guess you know which way to steer for the fort, eh? Make north-west till you come to the big fir that the nitchies call the death tree. You can just catch the top of the flagstaff from there, if you get up before the light goes out.'