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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Golden Snare"

They
wouldn't follow far into the south, if at all. Mebby you don't
realize what we're doing by hitting back to that father of yours.
Do you?"
She smiled.
"And mebby when we get there we'll find him dead," he added. "Dead
or alive, everything is up to Blake now and you must help me watch
him."
He pantomimed this caution by pointing to Blake and the rifle.
Then he dropped behind. Over the length of sledge and team he was
thirty paces from Blake. At that distance he could drop him with a
single shot from the Colt.
They were following the trail already made by the meat-laden
sledge, and the direction was northwest. It was evident that Blake
was heading at least in the right direction and Philip believed
that it would be but a short time before they would strike the
Coppermine. Once on the frozen surface of the big stream that
flowed into the Arctic and their immediate peril of an ambuscade
would be over. Blake was surely aware of that. If he had in mind a
plan for escaping it must of necessity take form before they
reached the river.


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