The man nodded.
"Sure. That's all fixed. Anything else?"
His final inquiry was his method of dismissing his employer. But Kars did not respond. His keen eyes had been searching the crowd. Now they came back to the plain face of Abe, whose jaws were working busily on the wreck of the end of a cigar. He lowered his voice to a confidential tone.
"There's a big outfit of stuff aboard for Murray McTavish, of Fort Mowbray. Has he an outfit here to haul it? Is he still around Leaping Horse?"
Abe's eyes widened. He was quite unconcerned at the change of tone.
"Why, yes," he replied promptly. "Sure he's an outfit here. He's shipping it up to Leaping Horse by the Yukon Transport—express. He quit the city last November, an' come along down again a week ago. Guess he's in the city right now. He's stopping around Adler's Hotel."
Kars' eyes were on the "hauls" of the cargo boat which were already busy.
"You boys kept to instructions?" he demanded sharply. "No one's wise to your camp?"
"Not a thing."
"There's not a word of me going around the city?"