Preparations for the departure of the two were speedily made. The farewells were uttered; father and daughter kissed tenderly; the men shook hands heartily. Then the dogs, in fine fettle after ample food and rest, leaped forward with joyous energy. The night was clear enough to see the way distinctly; there was no danger of mistaking the trail. On and on they flew over the frozen surface of the snow, following the valleys that trended to the east. Warmly clad and habituated to icy airs, the two did not suffer any discomfort from the bitter cold of the wind created by their rapid motion through the night. On the contrary, it set their blood tingling with the joy of life. Both were gloriously happy. The starlight was as noon-day since they had come out of the valley of the shadow.
Thus they went forward swiftly, Nell stretched at ease, Jack riding and running by turns. In the twilight of dawn, they came on a native family comfortably encamped, and here they halted for an hour, that the dogs might be fed and rested, and that they, too, might eat and rest. They basked contentedly in the cheery heat from the flames, and at last took leave of their stolid hosts almost reluctantly. Then, once again, they went skimming over the waste, as the pale-yellow sun crept languidly above the horizon. The slanting beams set all the scene a-shimmer with prismatic radiance from the snow crystals. Hitherto, the two had been content with silence, happy in the knowledge that they were together and that the speeding miles put peril far behind. Now, however, with the quickening life of day, the placid mood came to an end. They became lively, garrulous, demonstrative. Nell insisted that Jack should rehearse for her anew every detail of his escape from the jail. The husband, in turn, demanded a full account of how father and daughter had become known to each other. Both were curious to know the story of Jim Maxwell's life. They could not forbear many speculations as to the nature of the events that had driven this man, whom Jack liked and esteemed, and whom Nell had already grown to love, to isolate himself thus in the desolate North. But they could only guess, since the father had told nothing of himself, except the single fact of his relationship to Nell.
They made Malamute in mid-afternoon. Jack halted the dogs in front of the chief structure in the place, which, though nominally only a saloon, was in fact the hotel and trading post.
"Don't get out, Nell," Jack directed. "I'll have to get directions here for the next stage in the journey. Maybe we'll have to stay for the night, and maybe we won't. I'll be back in a minute." With that he hurried off and entered the saloon.
As the door swung open to admit the newcomer, the few men straggling along the bar, or lounging at the tables, looked up in mild curiosity to see who this might be. Only one showed any especial interest in the stranger. This single exception was a man who sat by a table placed against the wall at right angles to the bar. He had been lazily busy over a game of solitaire, while the woman seated across the table from him looked on listlessly. At Jack's entrance, he had looked up with languid attention. On the instant, he was transformed. All the indifference of his expression vanished. His face showed first an unbounded amazement, then rage. Finally, another emotion—hardly fear, but a furtive anxiety closely akin to fear. He watched covertly as the escaped prisoner went up to the bar, where, after ordering a drink, he began questioning the bartender concerning the most direct route to the Border.
Having secured the information he required, Jack went back to Nell, who sat waiting on the sled, snug within her furs.
JACK WENT BACK TO NELL, WHO SAT ON THE SLED, SNUG WITHIN HER FURS.
"We'd better stay here for the night," he explained, "and make an early start in the morning."
Nell got down from the sled obediently and accompanied her husband into the saloon, where arrangements for their entertainment were speedily concluded. It was only after the two had gone upstairs to the room assigned them that the man, who had held his head bent low over the spread-out cards of the solitaire game during their presence, looked up and beckoned to a tall, rough-featured individual standing alone at one end of the bar. This was the sheriff of Malamute. As he came near, Dan McGrew spoke, and his voice rasped.