Part 19 (1/2)
”Why, you doggone little _tillic.u.m_!” roared the man, ”I know'd you'd do it! Didn't I tell you, Mac? Didn't I tell you he'd out-guess 'em? An'
he's got the evidence, too, I'll bet a dog! But, son--what's the matter?
Gosh sakes! I never seen you _cryin'_ before! Tell me quick, son--what's the matter?”
Connie, ashamed of the sobs that shook his whole body, smiled into the big man's face as he leaned heavily against his shoulder: ”It's--nothing, Dan! Only--I've been five days and nights on the trail with--_that_!” He pointed toward the trussed figure upon the sled, just as a wild peal of the demoniacal laughter chilled the hearts of the listeners. ”And--I'm worn out.”
”For the love of Mike!” cried the big Inspector, after Connie lay asleep beside the fire. ”Think of it, Mac! Five days an' five nights! An' two outfits!”
”I'm sayin' the lad's a man!” exclaimed the Scotchman, as he shuddered at an outburst of raving from Squigg. ”But, why did he bring the other sled? He should have turned the dogs loose an' left it.”
For answer McKeever walked over to Squiggs' sled and threw back the tarp. Then he pointed to its contents. ”The evidence,” he answered, proudly. ”I knew he'd bring in the evidence.”
”Thought they was two of 'em, son,” said McKeever, hours later when they all sat down to supper. ”Did the other one get away?”
The boy shook his head. ”No, he didn't get away. Leloo, there, caught him. He couldn't get away from Leloo.”
”Where is he?”
Connie glanced at the big officer curiously: ”Do you know who the other one was?” he asked.
”No. Who was it?”
”Black Moran.”
”Black Moran! What are you talkin' about! Black Moran was drowned in the Pelly Rapids!”
”No, he wasn't,” answered the boy. ”He managed to get to sh.o.r.e, and then he skipped to the other side of the mountains. The body they pulled out of the river was someone else.”
”But--but, son,” the big Inspector's eyes were serious, ”if I had known it was _him_--Black Moran--he was the hardest man in the North--by all odds.”
”Yes--I know,” replied the boy, thoughtfully. ”But, Dan, he PAID. His score is settled now. I forgot to tell you that when Leloo caught him--he cut him half in two.”
CHAPTER XV
SETTING THE FOX TRAPS
After turning over the prisoner to Inspector McKeever, Connie Morgan and 'Merican Joe accompanied the men from Fort Norman back to the Indian village where they found that the party of hunters had succeeded in locating the caribou herd and had made a big kill, so that it had been unnecessary for the men to use any of the _cached_ meat.
Preparation was at once started by the entire population to accompany McTavish back to the post for the mid-winter trading. In the Indian's leisurely method of doing things these preparations would take three or four days, so Pierre Bonnet Rouge, who seemed to be a sort of chief among them, dispatched some of his young men to haul in all the meat that the two partners had _cached_. Meanwhile, leaving Mr. Squigg at the village in the care of McTavish, Connie piloted Inspector McKeever to the little cabin of the free traders. For McKeever had known Black Moran over on the Yukon, and had spent much time in trying to run him down in the days before his reported drowning, and he desired to make absolutely sure of his ground before turning in his report upon the death of so notorious a character.
Connie had placed the man's body in the cabin, and as the two pushed open the door Dan McKeever stepped forward and raised the blanket with which the boy had covered it. The big officer stooped and peered into the face of the dead man. Finally, he rose to his feet with a nod: ”Yes, that's Black Moran, all right. But, gosh, son! If I'd know'd it was him that you was up against over here, I wouldn't have been so easy in my mind. You sure done a big thing for the North when you got him.”
”I didn't get him, Dan. It was Leloo that got him--look there!”
McKeever stooped again and breaking back the blood-soaked clothing examined the long deep gash that extended from the man's lower ribs to the point of his hip. Then he turned and eyed Leloo who stood looking on with blazing eyes, his great silver ruff a-quiver. ”Some dog!” he exclaimed. ”Or is he a dog? Look at them eyes--part dog, part wolf, an'
mostly devil, I'd say. Look out, son, if he ever goes wrong. Black Moran looks like he'd be'n gashed with a butcher's cleaver! But, at that, you can't lay all the credit on the dog. He done his share all right, but the head work--figurin' out jest what Black Moran would do, an' jest what the dog would do, an' throwin' that chunk at jest the right second to make 'em do it--that's where the brains an' the nerve comes in----”
”It was mostly luck,” interrupted Connie.
The big officer grinned. ”Uh-huh,” he grunted, ”but I've noticed that if there's about two hundred per cent brains kind of mixed in with the luck, a man's got a better show of winnin' out in the long run--an'