e green of
the trackless grass mellowed to a delicate softness which seemed to
round off the peace of the airless evening.

Now they picked up the spiral of smoke from the camp-fire, and direction
was promptly changed towards it.

"I sort of feel he'll make it," the Scotsman said abruptly, as though in
simple continuation of his unspoken thought.

"You can't kill--him," replied the other emphatically. "I haven't a
doubt. He guessed he could make the headwaters. He'll make them. I'm
only scared to miss him in the night."

The doctor shook his head.

"I don't fancy that's going to happen. Our camp's always on the main
water, in the open. There's our watch. No. I'm a deal more scared of him
making a day camp, resting. Even then we haven't missed anything large
enough to hide up a skitter."

"No."

Now the spot light of the camp-fire shone out of the soft twilight, and
the sound of voices came back from the water's edge.

"I'm wondering about what he needs to be told," Ross said presently.
"It's for me I guess."

"How's that?"

The younger man turned quickly. The thought of this thing had weighed
heavily with him. He was a police officer who was ready to face any
hardship, any of the hundred and one risks and dangers his calling
demanded. But from the moment he was detailed for his present duty he
had been oppressed by the thought of the story which would have to be
told Steve, and which duty, as leader of the rescue party, he calculated
must certainly fall to his lot. He had known Steve from the moment of
his joining the force. He had worked with him on the trail. He had been
present at his senior's wedding, and he remembered his comrade's
happiness at the consummation of a real love match. And now? The
doctor's words had lifted a great load from his mind.

"There's two sides to be told," Ross said, with a sigh. "There's the
police side, which deals mostly with the Treaty Money, I guess, and
there's that other which should be mine. You see, he left them in my
care. And so there's a big account to be squared between him and me.
Best let me handle the whole rotten thing." Then with a sound that was a
laugh without the least mirth: "It's a doctor's job to hand out
unpleasant dope to a patient. It's a policeman's job to act unpleasant.
Guess the act isn't needed, but the dope is. Yes, it's mine, Belton.
Will you leave it that?"

"I'll be so glad to," the other replied with a sigh of relief, "I don't
know how t