Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 133: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

FLOOD. shoes. The snow was deep, and not light for those small legs, Woodhall happened upon the water hole quite by chancé. He had been traveling for hours without the faintest idea of the whereabouts of the trail of his quarry when his keen and roving glance chanced upon it, overlooked it, returned to it—for it was no more than a tiny white dimple near the edge of the white path of the frozen creek. Gabe had leveled the hole, but the water had gnawed underneath for some time be- fore the cut in the ice had frozen again. He went to it, examined it and found the scar and ehips of ice. So he headed down the course of the stream at a good pace. But he had lost a great deal of precious time, what with re- turning to the shelter of boughs for his out- fit, and one thing and another. Woodhall did not come upon Gabe Loon and the child until the night of the day following his discovery of the water hole. It’ was close upon midnight when he tracked them into camp. It was not much of a camp—just a short, wide trench in the snow well sheltered by brush and roofed at one end with boughs of spruce. A round black blotch at the farther end showed where a small fire had burned. Woodhall approached like a shadow. One watching him there in the star shimmer, among the shadows, would be puzzled to say whether he had moved or had been where he now was all the while. And yet he drew nearer and nearer to the roofed end of the trench. He cleared the webs from his feet and sank deep. He plowed slowly forward, parting the brush before him without a sound. He dug himself into the head of the trench, beneath the roof of boughs. Sec- onds passed, half a minute, before he made his next move. He listened to the breathing of the man and the child, thus locating each to a frac- tion of an inch. He withdrew a mitten and extended an inquiring hand. He touched the butt of the double-barreled gun, where it lay uncased and ready on a fold of Gabe’s blanket. He advanced his hand to the crip, then lifted the heavy weapon and drew it to him with a shaking arm. 763 It was a muzzle loader. An exploring finger told him that the nipples were capped and the hammers down. This was good enough. He knew that he need not worry just now about the rifle, which he felt sure was in its case and unloaded. He backed away noiselessly, moved around and stepped into the trench at the end where the little fire had been. CHAPTER XIV. - UNEXPECTED ARRIVALS, VOICE awoke the sleepers in the trench of snow. Gabe’s conscious- ness was pricked by it as the quick of the finger nail by a needle; and as he sat up with a jerk, even before his eyes were open, he put his right hand to the exact spot where the grip of the old gun should have been. He fumbled the edge of the blanket for a second, then snapped his legs under him and ducked forward on his hands and knees and grabbed for his ax—and missed it. Pete Woodhall laughed.: “Quit it, ye old fool!” said Woodhall. “T got ye covered with yer own gun; an’ I ain’t the only one in these woods with a twitchy finger.” Gabe backed to his bed, and Jacob’s side, without a word. The child was sitting up, speechless, but wide awake. “Ye reckon ye’re smart, I guess,” jeered Woodhall. ‘‘ Maybe ye’re smart enough to make a fire, right here on the old spot. I see ye got some bark an’ dry wood handy, Go to it!” “Go to ’ell!” retorted Gabe, inspired to recklessness by a last angry flicker of his chilling spirit. ‘“None o’ yer lip, old man. Hump yerself.” Gabe’s heart sank—but his brain got to work; and his hands, for he crawled for- ward again and made a little fire. He put on a kettle of ice, to thaw and then boil, and sliced frozen bacon into the pan—all by Pete Woodhall’s orders. Woodhall sat smiling just beyond the fire, smoking his pipe, with Gabe’s gun across his knees. Later, all three ate bacon and biscuit and drank tea. Woodhall laced his Eomichbooks Git busy. (S@)