"I guess so, if he ain't hung in the meantime. Looks like that he was the whole thing in the Passes."
As the party at one o'clock drew into Bennett, they saw one party eating dinner in the open, with sleigh loaded and dogs harnessed beside them. A pile of spruce boughs denoted where these strangers had slept, and where their tent, now drawn up on their sleigh, had been erected.
"Moving camp?" asked Hugh.
"Yes."
"I don't suppose you're going to take your location away with you?"
"Then it will just suit us, and we can use your fire. This is what I call lucky," said Hugh, as he began unlashing the load and throwing the bundles of supplies on the spruce bed.
George was busying himself undoing the supplies while John replenished the fire. George cooked bacon; Hugh mixed flour, baking-powder, and water for slap-jacks—the large pancakes of the frontier. As they worked Hugh re-opened conversation with the strangers.
"Where's your new location?"
"Down the lake, five miles. Got wind of a good bunch of timber there, and hauled a load down this morning. One of our fellows stayed down making camp while us two came back for the rest of the stuff."