They reached the depths of the valley in silence. They urged their horses to greater efforts along the level bank of the frozen stream. Then, as they faced the ascent beyond, the animals were permitted to drop back to a walk. McFardell transferred the leading-rein of his prisoner’s horse to the horn of his saddle and began to fill his pipe.
His companion observed him with eyes that smiled good-humouredly, in spite of the frigid bite of the steel shackles set fast upon his wrists. Then, as his custodian struck a match and lit his pipe, he turned his gaze alertly to the frowning sky.
“Here she comes.”
The prisoner spoke without a shadow of apprehension. It was the voice and accent of an educated man. His smiling eyes were regarding the lolling snowflakes with which the air had suddenly filled.
“We’ll get it plenty in a while,” he went on a moment later, with a pleasant, deep-throated chuckle. “You reckon it’s ten miles this way to Rock Point? It’s going to shorten our trail by five and more?” He shook his head. “Well, if this storm is going to be the thing it looks, why, I guess it might just as well be fifty miles to Rock Point. We shan’t make it this night—through these hills.”
The policeman was regarding the skyline. He, too, shook his head, but in denial.
“You think that?” he said sharply, with a quick, scornful flash of his jet-black eyes. “You’re wrong. Guess this is my territory. There’s not a hill, or bush, or creek to it I don’t know better than my prayers. There’s a top stretch up there of a mile and a half,” he went on, indicating the hill they were ascending. “Then we drop right down to Clearwater River, and pass by Joe Lark’s horse ranch. After that we pick up the old fur trail again, which you couldn’t lose in the worst blizzard that ever blew. I’m not worried a thing.”
The prisoner laughed.
“It’s good not to get worried when you’re in the hills, with the snow falling and night getting around. She’s coming thicker, so there’s no need for argument,” he added drily. “You police boys are bright on the trail. I’ve mostly had five years of Alaska, where they know a deal about snow. I claim fifty-fifty with you on that subject.”
The man’s laugh was good to hear. It was a laugh of reckless indifference, of a heart devoid of fear.