"Ef you don't know, Tug," said MacDonald, "who kin know?"
"Jim!" said the Deputy, rubbing his lean chin and biting off a big "chaw" of "black-jack."
"Jim's sure some dawg," agreed MacDonald. "That was the only fool thing I ever know'd ye to do, Tug—sendin' Jim after Black Dan that way."
Blackstock swore, softly and intensely, though he was a man not given to that form of self-expression.
"Boys," said he, "I used to fancy myself quite a lot. But now I begin to think Nipsiwaska County'd better be gittin' a noo Deputy. I ain't no manner o' good."
The men looked at him in frank astonishment. He had never before been seen in this mood of self-depreciation.
"Aw, shucks," exclaimed Long Jackson presently, "there ain't a man from here to the St. Lawrence as kin tech ye, an' ye know it, Tug. Quit yer jollyin' now. I believe ye've got somethin' up yer sleeve, only ye won't say so."
At this expression of unbounded confidence Blackstock braced up visibly.
"Well, boys, there's one thing I kin do," said he. "I'm goin' back to git Jim, ef I hev to fetch him in a wheelbarrow. We'll find out what he thinks o' the situation. I'll take Saunders an' Big Andy with me. You, Long, an' Mac, you stop on here an' lay low an' see what turns up. But don't go mussin' up the trails."