The Coolidge examiner., 1938-12-22

1ney redcneo tne camp ana StOOQ
staring around them in the gloom.
"Heather!" cried the agonized
Cameron, cropping in her tent to find
her personal belongings strewn upon
the spruce boughs of the floor. He
rushed outside to join Noel kneel-
ing beside the body of John McCord
in the mems tent.
John! John! What have they
done to you?" cried the shocked
Cameron, throwing off the skin robe
that covered the still shape breath
ing heavily on the bough floor.
Light a candle, Noel, quick!" he
ordered as he searched with trem-
bling fingers for wounds, while his
tortured heart was calling: Heath
er! What have they done to you?"
Noel held the candle while Cam
eron pushed back McCord's hood.
Across the giants mop Of yellow
hair ran the blood-caked scar of
a grazing bullet, but large cali
bered slug had entered his back.
"Shot in the lungs with a 45
That's Mcqueen, Noel, not the Mas
kapi. They would have looted the
camp-taken the tents! McQueen's S
got Heather, Noel! They've got
Heather!" Alan sobbed.
"Dey got her!" sighed the Indian.
But we get her soon, nevaire
fear!"
He crawled in here to die when
they left" said Alan. How long
ago did this happen?"
"Eet might be las sleep. but eet
look lax dis morning to me-"
They cleaned and dressed the
wounds in McCord's head and back,
and carried him into Heather's tent
where they started a fire in the
folding stove. But they knew that
John McCord would never again see
his daughter. While the life ebbed
slowly from the man who had toiled
so long only to find a grave on the
shore of the River of Skulls, they
made their plans for pursuit.
Shortly there was a moon and
Noel went out and found the trail of
toboggan sled leading to the riv-
er, with the prints of snowshoes.
They were not the bear-paw prints
of the Naskapi but the longer webs
of the Cree shoe worn on the East
Coast.
There was no doubt. At last Nc
Queen had struck!
Gradually the wound sapped the
enormous strength and vitality Of
the man who lay unconscious. To-
ward dawn he opened his eyes and
seemed to recognize Alan who knelt
beside him.
Heather, John! Was she hurt?"
Alan asked.
The dying mans lips framed the
word mol"
1T was Mcqueen, John?"
After a period Of labored breath
ing came the gasped words: NC
-got-Heather!"
Then a grimace of pain knotted
the bearded white face. Shortly Nc
Cord again opened his lips and es.
sayed to speak. Alan bent closer as
he held the limp hand Of his friend.
Shot me-but-I got-two!" Alan
heard family. 'Heather-she loves
-you-Alan! Poor-Heather!"
II love Heather, John! Do you
hear me? l love her!"
For an instant McCord's strength
returned. Again in his eyes flashed
the blue of the washed bergs as his
fingers closed on Alan's.
Hunt theml Hunt them" he
gasped hoarsely. They've got my
girl-my girl! Hunt them-gold-
Heather-yours!"
Wen hunt them, Johnl Well get
her! l promise you We'll get her!'
The bitter dawn streaked the lead
hewed east when, numb with shock,
Alan left his friend, groped out OF
the tent and, like a man in a dream,
prepared to take McQueen's trail
When it grew light it became evi-
dent, from the newly broken trail in
the spruce and the empty gold cache
that for some reason McCord had
brought the eight bags of gold from