as sure I had never troubled to look at it since. But of
course I could not have, or it would not have been empty now. I inquired
absently, because I was rummaging my pockets for cartridges, "Who'd
dare? _Whoa_, Bob! What he?"

"They," Paulette corrected sharply. "I meant the wolves. I thought they
were cowards, but--they don't sound cowardly! I--Mr. Stretton, I believe
I'm worried!"

So was I, with a girl to take care of, a tied-on pole and whiffletree,
and practically no gun; for there was not a single loose cartridge in my
pockets. I had been so mighty secure about the Caraquet road I had never
thought of them. I cursed inside while I said disjointedly, "Quiet, Bob,
will you?--There's nothing to be afraid of; you'll laugh over this
to-night!" Because I suddenly hoped so--if the pole held to the
Halfway--for the infernal clamor behind us had dropped abruptly to what
might have been a distant dog fight. But at a sudden note in it the
sweat jumped to my upper lip.

"Dunn and Collins!" I thought. They had been missing when we left.
Paulette had said she did not trust Collins, and since he had had the
_nous_ to get hold of the Skunk's Misery wolf dope, he or Dunn could
easily have stowed it in my wagon in the night, and been caught by it
themselves where they had started out to waylay us by the boulder they
put in my road. But all I said was, "The wolves have stopped!"

"Not they," Paulette retorted, and suddenly knocked me silly with
surprise. "Oh, I haven't done you a bit of good by coming, Mr. Stretton!
I thought if I were with you I might be some use, and I'm not."

I stared stupidly. "D'ye mean you came to fight wolves?"

"No! I came----" but she stopped. "I was afraid--I mean I hated your
going alone with all that gold, and Marcia really wanted Mrs. Jones."

Any other time I would have rounded on her and found out what she was
keeping back, but I was too busy thinking. The horses had calmed to a
flying trot up the long hill along whose side we had been crawling when
the pole went. Once over the crest of it we should have done two miles
since we heard the first wolf howl; which meant we were nearer to Billy
Jones's than I had remembered. If the pole held to get us down the other
side of the long hill there was nothing before us but a mile of corduroy
road through a jungle-thick swamp of hemlock, and then the one bit of
really excellent going my road could boast,--three clear miles, level as
a die, straight to