The Adair County news., 1918-03-27
CHAPTER XXI.
A Message From the Dead.


Macdonald drove his team into the
teeth of the storm. The wind came in
gusts. Sometimes the gale was so stiff
that the dogs could scarcely crawl for
ward against it; again there were mo-
ments of comparative stiffness, fol-
lowed by squalls that slapped the
driver in the face like the whipping Of
q loose sail on q catboat.
High drifts made the trail difficult.
Not once but fifty times Macdonald
left the gee-pole to break a way
through snow-waves for the sled. The
best he could get out of his dogs was
three miles an hour, and he knew that
there was not another team or driver
in the North could have done so well.
1t was close TO noon when he reached
a division of the road known as the
Fork. One trail ran down to the river
and up it to the distant creeks. The
other led across the divide, struck the
Yukon. and pointed a way to the coast.
White drifts had long since blOtted out
the track of the sled that had pre-
ceded him. Had the fugitives gone up
the river to the creeks with intent to
hole themselves up for the winter? Or
was it their purpose to cross the divide
and go out over the ice to the coast?
The pursuer knew that Gid Holt was
wise as a weasel. He could follow
blindfolded the paths that led to every
creek in the gold-fields. 1t might be
taken as a certainty that he had not
plunged into such a desperate venture
without having a plan well worked out
beforehand. Elliot had a high grade
of intelligence. Would they try to
reach the coast and make their get
away to Seattle? Or would they dig
themselves in till the heavy SHOWS
were past and come back to civiliza-
ton with the story of a lucky strike to
account for the gold they brought with
them? Neither gold dust nor nuggets
could be identified. There would be
no way of proving the story false. The
only evidence against them would be
that they had left at Kusiak and this
was merely of a cOrrobOrative kind.
There would be no chance of convict
ing them upon it.
To strike for Seattle was to throw
away all pretense of innocence. Fugi-
tives from justice, they would have to
disappear from sight in order to es-
cape The hunt for them would con-
tinue until at last they were unearthed.
One fork of the road led to compare
| tive safety; the other went by devious
windings to the penitentiary and per-
| haps the gallows. The Scotsman put
himself in the place of the men he was
| trailing. Given the same conditions,
he knew which path he would follow.
Macdonald took the trail that led
down to the river, to the distant gold
creeks which offered a refuge from
man-hunters in many a deserted cabin
marooned by the deep SHOWS.
Even the iron frame and steel
muscles of the Scotch-Canadian pro-
tested against the task he had set them
that day. 1t was time to sit snugly
inside by a stove and listen to the
bowling of the wind as it hurled itself
hNhh AlO1h ulC 1Oul 1lOiA
light till dark Colby Macdonald fought
with drifts and breasted the storm. He
got into the harness with the dogs. He
broke trail for them, cheered them
soothed, comforted, punished. Long
after night had fallen he staggered into
the hut Of two prospectors, his parka
so stiff with frozen snow that 1t had
to be beaten with hammer before the
coat could be removed.
"How long since a dog team passed
seven huskies and two men?" was
his first question.
mo dog team has passed for foul
days." one Of the men answered.
"You mean you haven't seen one
Macdonald corrected