but was now the time for nicety? It would mean delay, not for
Drennen, but for Kootanie and Max . . . it might mean the opportunity
he wanted, to come up with Sefton before the others.

He passed close to where George lay. The Canadian had again drawn up
his blanket and was going back to sleep. The others were sleeping. It
was too dark for them to see what he was doing. Too dark for him to
more than make out the forms of the other horses when he came to the
flat under the cliffs. And by that time he had made up his mind; he
would take advantage of whatever came to his hand and ask no questions;
he would find George's pack animal in a moment and would then lead the
two of them around the camp and turn them loose.

Had he come to George's horse first he would have done so. But it
chanced that the first horse across whose tether he tripped was a big
black animal with the white strip from below the ears to the nostrils
showing in the gloom to which Drennen's eyes were accustomed now. This
was Lieutenant Max's horse, Black Ben! Then the horse he was
leading . . .

He swung about swiftly, gathering up the slackened rope, coming close
to the horse what had awakened him. It was like Black Ben, easily to
be mistaken even in a better light than this . . . but it was not
George's horse nor yet Max's. . . .

"A strange horse, here!" was his swift thought. "Whose?"

He ran his hands along the big brute's back. There was no saddle.
About the neck only a knotted rope. His hands ran on to the dragging
end of the rope. The strands were rough there, unequal, bespeaking a
tether snapped. He noted now, too, that the rope was damp and a little
muddy.

"He's come down the trail from the north. We are close to Sefton's
camp."

From the north because there was no place which Drennen remembered
having passed during the end of the day where a horse could muddy a
dragging rope. The lake shore was sand and gravel. And, before he had
gone to bed that night, he had seen a straggling stream which a little
further on ran across the morrow's trail, making shallow ponds in the
grass, the banks oozy mud.

Tying the strange horse swiftly, Drennen went back to his bed. He
found his rifle and cartridge belt, filled his pockets hit or miss from
his food pack, and, making no noise, returned to the flat. Again
leading the strange horse he pushed on, up trail, toward the muddy
brook.

Too dark to see more than the lowering mass