were dead. They could do no harm.

Hager now lost no time in reaching Moose Gulch. He drove the dogs
relentlessly, trotting behind the sled. Elation gave him a strength
that took him easily over the miles.

A short time before he entered the settlement it began to snow again.
Hager was pleased. The snow would cover up the tracks he had left in
the event that Art Maddox did any snooping.

He went directly to the doctor's home, carrying the body of Cahill
inside. He cleverly played the part of a man reluctant to believe that
his partner had died.

"Isn't there something you can do, Doc?" he asked anxiously. "Maybe it
isn't too late."

The other straightened from his examination of Cahill and shook his
white thatch. His round, ruddy features were sympathetic. "I'm afraid
it's all over. Ben Cahill's as dead as he'll ever be. Most likely he
passed away some time before you were able to reach town. Nothing left
to do now but turn him over to the undertaker. That's me, in case you
don't know. In Moose Gulch it takes two, three jobs to keep a man
fairly busy."

Hager sighed and looked properly grief-stricken. "Well, I'll leave you
to take care of things, Doc. Do a good job--nothing but the best, you
know. Ben was the finest partner a man could ever have."

Hager left and proceeded to visit acquaintances in the settlement,
spreading the news of Cahill's death. He was showered with
condolences, which he accepted with a suitable air of melancholy.
Later, eating supper in the tiny dining room of Moose Gulch's small,
frame hotel, he was joined at the table by Art Maddox.

The marshal was a tall, raw-boned man with a long nose and protruding
eyes that looked deceptively mild. His presence filled Hager with a
vague dread.

"Heard Ben Cahill took sick and died while you were bringing him into
town," Maddox began. "Sure is too bad. How did it happen?"

Hager explained, adhering closely to essential facts, though he
omitted certain others and stretched a point here and there. He
finished, "I tried to get Ben into town as fast as I could, but it was
snowing hard and I almost got lost a couple of times. Ben was sick
bad, and with the cold and all, he died on the way."

"It kind of looks like you expected that to happen," Maddox said.

Hager grew tense. "What do you mean?"

"The way you took the furs along kind of makes it look like you
expected Ben Cahill to die. Besides, you ought to have known that the
furs would slow y