“We’ll need to strip ’em first,” the Wolf said, eyeing the body on the hay. “Then we’ll need to bury ’em—deep.” A little frown of concentration drew his finely marked brows together. “Then we’ll have to burn their clothes—all of ’em.”
“An’ their cayuses?”
“We can turn ’em loose. The wolves’ll get ’em before sunup to-morrow.”
“An’ the saddles?”
“Burn ’em, too. We ken sink the iron trees in the muskeg ’way back. An’ their guns. An’ everything else that won’t burn. We ken just cover your tracks right up so an Injun couldn’t smell it out.”
“Gee!”
The half-breed’s exclamation was an involuntary expression of admiration. If the Wolf understood it he made no sign. He simply gazed at the father of Annette with unfathomable eyes.
“We best get to it before—— You see, Pideau,” he went on, in his quick way, “you just can’t tell what message these boys left behind ’em. I’ve heard you say you haven’t any sort of use for ’em, but you’ve always allowed they’re slick. Maybe they sent word to their headquarters. Maybe they’d hit your trail. Maybe they passed word for folks to foller right along. See?”
Pideau nodded. And the boy watching him saw at last that which lay beneath the surface. The narrowed eyes had lost their confidence. There was fear in the swift movement of the furtive glance that swept over the clearing and finally came to rest at the entrance to it.
And as the Wolf realized the truth, boy as he was, he would have been less than human had he not experienced a thrill of contempt. Pideau! Pideau, the ruthless tyrant who had never more than tolerated his presence in their mountain hiding, was afraid! He was scared! Scared like a pitiful gopher!