He turned his head and saw that the man was only two
lengths behind him. What would he do? With the mechanical swing of
his arms the words of Murchison and Downey repeated themselves in his
brain. "Serving with the devils in hell; serving with the devils in
hell," with a certain monotonous rhythm the words kept repeating
themselves through his brain. Why had he ever come North? Why hadn't
he told McNabb that he would have nothing to do with his pulp-wood?
The half-breed's canoe was alongside, but its occupant did not speak.
He merely jabbed at the waves with his paddle and looked with that
devilish twisted smile.
Wentworth hardly knew when his canoe grated upon the gravel. Stiffly
he half walked, half crawled to the bow and lifted out his pack. Alex
Thumb stood upon the gravel and smiled.
"What do you want?" faltered Wentworth, his voice breaking nervously.
The half-breed shrugged. "You no lak no pardner on de trail?" he asked.
"Where are you going?"
Thumb pointed vaguely toward the south. "Me--I'm lak de pardner on de
trail."
"Look here," cried Wentworth suddenly. "Do you want money? More money
than you ever saw before?"
The breed shook his head. "No. De money can't buy w'at I wan'."
"What do you want?"
Again came the twisted smile. "Mebbe-so we eat de suppaire firs'. I
got som' feesh. We buil' de fire an' cook 'um.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133