CHAPTER XVI
Dan McGrew, from a point of safe concealment, watched the coming of the sled with keen interest. He was still furious over the miscarriage in his plans caused by this arrival. There was no longer possibility of his holding the secret of the mine for himself. In return for the blood on his hands, he had gained a single poke of gold-dust. His chief concern now was the evading of any possible suspicion against himself. His thoughts were busy with this problem of safety. At his distance, and in the darkening light, he could not make out the identity of the man who examined the body of Sam Ward, and afterward removed it. Since Nell did not leave the sled, he did not guess even that one of the two was a woman. But it did occur to him that, since the arrival of these persons had thwarted his evil hopes, it would be fitting that they themselves should serve his need as the scape-goats of suspicion.
Once this idea had stirred in his brain, Dangerous Dan found little difficulty in planning the accomplishment of his designs. He remained in hiding, without venturing even to light a fire though he was hard put to it to resist the numbing cold. It was not till some hours after nightfall, when he judged the two in their camp safely asleep, that Dangerous Dan acted on the plan he had formed.
He crept with the utmost caution down the slope, and made a wide détour, so as to come near the camp to windward of the point where he heard the little yelps and whinings of dogs restless in their sleep. The night was clear, and, even within the shadows of the trees about the camp, Dan could see distinctly where the sled stood outside the limit of the firelight. Toward this, with increased care and slowness in the progress, Dan made his way.
He had almost reached the sled, when he stumbled over what he had deemed merely a deeper shadow beside it, and sprawled forward. To save himself from falling, he thrust out his right hand. The palm touched something cold—with a coldness beyond that of the arctic air. It was the face of the man whom he had slain, from off which his rough contact had thrust the blanket. And Dan McGrew knew the thing for what it was.
Strong man that he was, he was sickened. For a little, he stood there shivering, unnerved by the grisly encounter. But it was only the shock that had unmanned him. Presently, his courage rose again. He grinned to himself, standing there in the dark over the dead body. Here was nothing to be afraid of, he said to himself in brutal disdain of his own weakness. So, soon, he went on again, quite undismayed, to carry out his purpose.
Noiselessly, Dangerous Dan fumbled over the pack on the sled for some minutes. Once, he put a hand in his pocket, and drew forth something, which he disposed within the wrappings of the pack. Finally, he readjusted everything, as nearly as he could by the sense of touch, to the condition in which he had found it. Only, there was something added to the contents. For once in his life, Dangerous Dan had not been a robber. Yet, never had his intent been more deadly.
His task thus accomplished, the man withdrew as silently as he had come. Nevertheless, despite his bravado, he was at pains to tread aside, lest he brush a second time against that blanketed form.
Jack and Nell were up and away early. They made good speed with the grewsome burden on the sled. They ran easily without snow-shoes, for the crust still held. Jack was distressed that his bride should be unable to ride luxuriously on their honeymoon. But for this Nell cared not at all. In her youth and perfect health, the physical activity was, in truth, a pleasure, rather than a toil. But she was disturbed by the presence of that grim thing which they escorted. She could not avoid yielding in some measure to superstition. The radiant joy of her bridal was quenched by this tragedy that had followed so close upon it, and into association with which they had been forced by circumstance. Her mood was oppressed with forebodings. She was all anxiety to reach Kalmak, where they might be rid of this ill-omened clay. So, she urged Jack often to increase the pace. And he, for his part, hardly less sensitive to this malignant influence at such a time, consented readily enough, hurrying on the dogs with whip and voice.... The train swung into Kalmak in mid-afternoon—at least an hour sooner than it would have made the distance with a lighter load.