“Perhaps his showing himself at North Bay was deliberate,” said the detective. “Half-breed Indians with all the tricks of the woods don’t give themselves away so easily. Although it’s rather late in the day to remember that.”
“And the fact is neither here nor there, anyhow,” said Clement. “Our chief concern is that we are ten or more hours tramp away from Cobalt on this bad trail, and that during those ten hours Neuburg and his rogues will be able to do things—things connected,” he meant to mention Heloise Reys’ name, but he boggled at that, he said instead, “do things that our presence in Cobalt would have prevented. They have gained very valuable time.”
“But they, whoever you’re talking about, have gained it,” pointed the driver. “You can’t get away from that. That being so, where’s the value of risking that tramp along a dangerous trail in a dark night? It’s mortal easy to stray and get lost in these parts.”
“That’s a risk I think we’ve got to take,” said Clement. “They may be counting on the fact that we won’t try to follow the trail during the night; I mean by that they may need more time than those ten hours. Again, we may have luck, may hit upon a shack or a homestead where we could get a rig or some conveyance. And always, too, the closer we keep to their heels the more likely we are to throw their plans out.”
“I don’t know who they are, but these fellers seem a healthy lot of toughs from the indications thrown off,” said the driver. And as he voiced his ignorance, Clement swung round on him with an inspiration.
“Do you know a man named Henry Gunning?” he demanded.
“Henry Gunning,” cried the driver. “What, again! Do I know him? Why, the feller’s an epidemic.”
Clement, startled by the tone of the man’s voice, simply echoed the expression, “an epidemic?”
“He’s certainly that. The whole world’s asking after him.”
“What do you mean by the whole world?” demanded Clement in some excitement.