"He was drowned?" said Harmer growing pale.
"No, he warn't," replied Mac. "We got across all right, and stayed all winter trapping with Bill here. And let me tell you, young man, you mustn't trifle with Bill. He's a snorter, he is."
I could see "Damn Bill!" almost on Jack's lips, but he restrained it.
"And when the Chinook came up, and the snow began to melt a few days back, we all got ready to cross the range—him, and Bill, and me. That's six days ago. And a better fellow than him you never struck, no, nor will. What do you think, pard?" he asked with a grin, turning to me.
I grunted.
"And, young feller," Mac went on again, "if he's a pardner of yours, or a shipmate—for I can see you're an Englishman—why, I'm glad he's here and safe."
Then suddenly altering his tone, he turned fiercely on Harmer, who jumped back in alarm.
"Why the thunder don't you shake hands with him? There he is a-waitin'."
And John sprang across the fire and caught me by both hands.
"Confound it, Mr. Ticehurst, how very unkind of you!" he said, with tears in his eyes. "I began to think you were dead." And he looked unutterably relieved and happy, but bursting with some news, I could see.