CHAPTER XIX
SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT
Much as they regretted it, Joe Marion and Jennings after a night’s sleep were forced to admit that it seemed their duty to push on over the trail left by the outlaw.
“’Twouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t caught Munson’s message,” said Joe thoughtfully. “In a case like this, one is obliged to consider the highest good to the greatest number. It might easily happen that a delay on our part at this moment would mean the loss of Munson’s entire party. It would almost surely mean that if they arrived at Flaxman Island to find their supply depot in ashes.”
“And as for Curlie,” added Jennings, “if he came out of that blizzard alive with his rifle in hand, he’ll take care of himself, trust him for that.”
“Yes, and with that hind-quarter of caribou meat.”
So it was decided that they should press on. They had followed the trail of the outlaw for ten miles or more when they came upon footprints in the snow beside the trail which seemed to indicate that the outlaw had paused in his travel.
“Wonder what he stopped there for?” said Jennings, examining the tracks carefully. “From the position of his feet I’d say he’d been looking down the hill.”
“Aw, c’mon,” said Joe. “The big point is, he went straight on and we’re following.”
A hundred yards farther on they came to a place where a reindeer and sled joined the trail.
“That’s queer!” said Jennings, pausing again. “Funny that fellow would follow the outlaw. Looks exactly like the track made by that other fellow when he pulled out of that clump of willows after he’d left his deer tied there all night and had camped in our thicket. Wonder if it could have been the same man.”