He went to the
door, opened it, and for a few moments stood listening to the
screech of the wind over the Barren. Pierre, still seated at the
table, watched him attentively. Philip's mind was made up when he
closed the door and faced the half-breed again.
"It is three hundred miles from here to Fort Churchill," he said.
"Half way, at the lower end of Jesuche Lake, MacVeigh and his
patrol have made their headquarters. If I go after Bram, Pierre, I
must first make certain of getting a message to MacVeigh, and he
will see that it gets to Fort Churchill. Can you leave your foxes
and poison-baits and your deadfalls long enough for that?"
A moment Pierre hesitated.
Then he said:
"I will take the message."
Until late that night Philip sat up writing his report. He had
started out to run down a band of Indian thieves. More important
business had crossed his trail, and he explained the whole matter
to Superintendent Fitzgerald, commanding "M" Division at Fort
Churchill. He told Pierre Breault's story as he had heard it.
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