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CHAPTER VIII
Hank makes his Appearance

The sound of hoofs trampling through the wood was the first thing that came to Joe's ears as he sprang from his spruce bed and looked about him. Someone was coming towards the camp through the forest, while about the still-smouldering fire lay the figures of his sleeping comrades.

"Peter and Mike coming back, I expect," he told himself. "But supposing it were Hurley?"

There was just a bare possibility that the sounds were produced by that individual, and, lest it should be the case, Joe gripped a thick stake and awaited events. Then a shout escaped him, while an answering welcome hail sounded through the camp and set every one of the sleepers stirring.

"I see you right enough!" shouted Peter, laughing as he dropped from his horse. "I seed Joe grip a hold of a stake when he heard us, thinking maybe we was Hurley. He was game, he was, to put up another fight with the bully. But we ain't, you see, lad, and so let's get to breakfast."

It appeared that Peter had met with Mike late the previous night, and the two had rested beside the railway; and now they came into the camp, bringing with them a couple of followers. These proved to be Indians – not the Red Indian one sees often pictured, but lean men with bent figures, and dressed in shabby buckskins. Their black hair was trained back from their faces and tied at their necks. Their thin faces were seamed and lined as if with many troubles, while their bent figures, their wrinkles, and their general appearance gave one the impression that Mike had brought old men with him.

"But don't you think it," said the policeman, when he dropped from his horse and was seated near the fire awaiting a meal. "They're men I've employed this many a time, and first-rate trackers. One's known as Fox – and a fox he is, if one judges by his cunning – the other hasn't a name, so far as I have ever gathered, so he's 'Bill' to me, and answers the name promptly. They ain't much good at talking, either of 'em, though they can speak English. I've known them sit all day long round the fire and not pass more than a dozen words between them; but clever trackers they are, and that's why I've brought 'em. Now, boys, something to eat, and then away."

By now the fire had been coaxed into a blaze, while a number of steaks which George had prepared overnight, and had already skewered, were soon sizzling over the flames. Tom came running back to camp from a stream to which he had been sent, and at once the kettle was hung in position. As for Joe, he felt a new lad indeed. He might never have come by an injury, though his head was tender enough when one touched it. He slipped from the camp with Jim, and the two, having walked a little way down the stream, stripped off their clothing and had a splendid dip.

"Regular dodge of an Englishman," grinned Jim, as he sat on the bank to allow the sun's rays to dry him. "Your Englishman comes to a foreign part and plunges right into the first pond he happens on. There's hardly another man that's so keen on bathing. But it freshens a fellow – eh, Joe? How are you this morning?"

"Hungry," came the prompt answer. "But I felt I wanted a livener, and that dip has done it. Suppose we shall ride right off as soon as breakfast is finished?"

"You've hit it; Peter and Mike has brought along some spare hosses. There was Peter's to begin with, and Mike's; then there was two in my rig and two in Jack Bailey's, making six in all. With the Indians we muster just eight, so two more hosses were wanted. You see, we ain't going to take rigs with us. They'd be in the way, most likely, especially in this sort of wooded country. We shall ride; Peter's brought along the saddles."

When they returned to the camp and were in the midst of their breakfast, the voluble Peter explained matters fully.

"Me and Mike hit right up agin one another last night," he said, "and in course we got to gassing. We allowed as rigs warn't no sort of use away up in the country to which this Hurley had made, so it war clear that extry hosses was needed. Wall, we fetched 'em. Hank Mitchell, one of the best fellows you could hap upon, lent 'em willingly, and he's coming to join us. He's bringing guns, too, for they're to come along in a freight train from Sudbury fust thing this morning; so's saddles and tinned provisions. Hank has also arranged fer two of his hands to come right along here and clear back with the rigs, fer it wouldn't do to leave 'em here fer more than a day or two. People's mighty honest in these parts, but there might arrive someone who was a stranger, and who jest happened to be in want of a rig same as one of these. So they'll be took back to the rail track, near Hank Mitchell's, and wait thar till we returns. Why, ef that ain't Hank hisself! He has been extry nippy."

A short, spare man came cantering up to the camp at that moment, his approach having been hidden from all by the trees which surrounded them. He dropped from his saddle with as much ease as the average man steps from one board to another, and walked swiftly forward.

"Hallo, mates, how'dy?" he said softly, as if he were afraid of having his voice heard. "My boys are close handy with the guns and sichlike. Which one's Joe, him as I've heard of?"

"Thar," cried Peter, grinning, and pointing to our somewhat bashful hero.

"Do yer drink?" asked Hank abruptly, stepping across till he was close to him, and regarding Joe with a pair of eyes which might be described as actually piercing.

"No," was the equally abrupt answer. Joe, in fact, stared hard at this newcomer. He didn't quite know what to make of him, though, to be sure, he rather liked his looks. Hank's nut-brown face, clean-shaven, unlike most others in those parts, with its deeply-lined forehead and the whisps of grey hair showing beneath his hat at the temples, spoke of one who had seen many years. But it was a kindly face, kindly and keen; that, perhaps, was the better description. Every movement of the little man was jerky. His lips, when he spoke, opened sharply and closed again, as if he were anxious to hide his teeth. His eyes blinked with spasmodic suddenness. He even seemed to breathe differently from other men.

"Smoke?" he demanded, firing the question off as if he were glad to be rid of it, and yet observing Joe all the while, as if he would penetrate to the centre of his brain and steal the very thoughts he was thinking.

"Sometimes," admitted Joe, somewhat guiltily; "not often; shall do later."

"Huh! Larned farmin' yet?" asked Hank, with comical shortness.

"Trying," grinned Joe, beginning to see fun in this catechism, and taking a decided liking for the newcomer; "but I ain't through yet. I admit that I don't know everything. There's a few things yet that Peter can teach me."

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" shouted the latter. "He's had you, Hank. He's always like this is Hank," explained Peter. "He don't 'low no one to be friends till he's sort of axed him all sorts o' questions. And guess he jest don't care much fer a Britisher as comes out here and knows most everything. Git ahead, Hank, boy," he bellowed. "Joe ain't one o' them. He's one of the right sort; he's a good plucked 'un."

"You kin shake," said Hank, his comical gravity unmoved, though there was just the suspicion of a flutter of an eyelid. "Lad, I'm proud to meet yer. The chap as could stand up to Hurley are worth knowing. Shake!"

Joe shook. He danced almost on the toes of one foot, for this lean little man had a hand grip of iron. His fingers closed round our hero's as if he meant to crush the very bones, while those curiously piercing eyes never left the young fellow he was addressing.

"I say," roared Joe, "now try again."

He offered his hand for the second time, while those who observed Hank saw distinctly a twinkle of his eye. He even smiled, a rarity with Hank, and responded at once to our hero's invitation. This time Joe returned the grip with interest. Some weeks of farming, of rough work in Peter Strike's service, had hardened his muscles, and anyone could see that he was filling out. Indeed, but for the fact that Hank had taken him unawares, Joe's fingers would not have received such a crushing. Now he let them close round the diminutive Canadian's like a vice, and fixed his eyes on those two piercing orbs which he found so wonderfully attracting. The two closed in to one another till but a short space separated them, and then and there exchanged a second grip, the grip which spoke of friendship, of strength, of firmness, of virtues which the man who lives his life in the open and meets danger and privation often enough prizes above all other virtues. As for Hank, the suspicion of a smile in his eyes went promptly. He was all seriousness. Indeed, all of a sudden he seemed to view Joe from an altogether different standpoint. A minute before he had been greeting a green lad, one who had shown pluck and deserved encouragement; but now he seemed to have dipped somewhat into the spirit which kept Joe going, which dominated every waking moment of his life, which made of him the youthful leader of that band of volunteers aboard the emigrant ship, and again urged him to stand fast in Tom's behalf in spite of Hurley the bully. Intuitively Hank seemed to guess that Joe had balance and grit, and promptly he acknowledged the fact.

"I'm fair glad to meet you," he said. "From now on you've a friend."

Then they sat down round the fire, while their comrades watched their faces for some few minutes.

"Hank ain't often done a thing like that before," Peter whispered to Joe a little later. "He's just the queerest bird I ever met, and don't never show no feeling; but he's took to you, jest as a duck takes to water. He's got grit has Hank. I've knowed him foller a chap as had robbed a widow woman, follow him for two weeks on end, and take him almost aboard the ship he had booked by. That meant determination, or grit if you like to call it so. But here's the men with the guns, and guess Mike's getting restless. Now jest take the word of one who's been out here a while and has met bad men. Ef you sight Hurley, don't stand hankey-pankey. Back in England you'd call to him and then give chase ef he didn't round up. Out here you kin call to him; but ef his hands don't go sky high above his head, and that in a jiffy, give him lead – lead, boy, or else he'll be putting daylight through your own valuable carcass. This ain't a game we're after; we're following a man that's murdered a woman, his own wife, and who's got nothing but the hangman's rope before him. He won't be over particular what happens to those who pursue him. Now, Mike, what's to do?"

"Fall in and arrange the order," cried that latter, swinging his leg across his horse. "First, Tom there, stamp out the embers of the fire. Things haven't got dried up yet awhile, for the weather hasn't been overhot. But it's always as well to be careful; a forest fire is something wuss than chasin' a murderer. Now, Fox and Bill go ahead. Ah, they're there already – that shows that they've had practice. Then I'll follow them close. Jack Bailey and George can ride along side by side. Jim and Tom can come along next, while I guess that Peter and Hank had best ride right in rear, taking Joe with 'em. It'll teach him a heap, ef only he keeps his eyes and his ears open. Boys, there's grub and stuff to bring along, so divide it up and drop it into your saddle bags."

Some little while before, Hank's men had put in an appearance, bringing stout saddles with them, all of which were fitted with two canvas bags. There were rifles also for each one of the party, as well as revolvers and the necessary ammunition. The provisions consisted of tinned goods, as well as the stuff which the thoughtful Jack Bailey had brought with him. It took but a little while to share out all the things, and very soon the cavalcade was mounted. Then, having seen Hank's men ride off with the rigs trailing behind them, the party set its face to the north and rode off in wake of the murderer. And a very formidable and business-like little band they appeared. We have already described the Indians known as Fox and Bill. They sat their horses bareback, as if they were part and parcel of their mounts, while not once had either addressed the other or one of the white men they were to lead, save in the case of Mike, when all that passed seemed to be a succession of incomprehensible grunts. For the rest, Mike himself made a fine figure of a horseman, and sat head and shoulders above everyone, for his horse was big like himself. Jack and George followed some ten paces behind him, boyish eagerness on their faces. Then came Jim and Tom, none the less eager, while in rear of all the lanky Peter bestrode his horse with legs swinging loosely on either side, while Hank sat his saddle for all the world as if he were a statue. The man was taciturnity itself. He was almost as reserved and silent as the Indians, and for watchfulness, there never was such a man.

"Guess them two Injuns has made a mistake," cried Peter, after a while, pointing away from the track they were following. "There's marks of hosses to one side. Hurley stopped jest here."

"And rested," agreed Hank, with brevity. "They ain't missed that. No Injun could. They've seed that Hurley rested there some while, and then went on agin. They didn't need to go and look; they kind of knew it."

"How?" asked Joe curiously, himself puzzled to see how the Indians could have divined such a matter.

"Simple," came the response. "We've been going this hour and more. Wall, reckon it war evening when Hurley abandoned the rig and pushed on. He travelled an hour, when it fell dark. He jest camped for the evening. That thar place was his fust stopping point. It ain't of no importance except to tell us that he's got so much start of us this morning, besides what he made by getting off before we broke camp. Young chap, this here's a sorter stern chase. Time's everything in it. Hurley's got, say, three hours' start, and the country ahead is wooded. Wall, we've got to make up that three hours afore we can come up with him, and stopping jest to see what sort of a bed he made last night ain't a-going to help us. See?"

Joe did; he smiled at Hank. "Never even crossed my brain," he said. "Somehow, when one tackles a job like this for the first time, one doesn't see things as does a practised hand."

"In course you don't," agreed Hank, winking back at him. "It's jest like the farming; some chaps think they know everything, but they don't. Most folks is bamboozled right from the beginning. They has to learn; and tracking wants learning jest like farming. Now, jest you see here; how should I know as Hurley warn't more'n three hours ahead?"

It was a conundrum. Joe puzzled and puzzled, and then gave up the riddle.

"Don't know," he said, disappointment in his voice. "How?"

"In course you don't know. How could you, youngster? But I'll larn yer. This here's a wooded country, as you've agreed. Wall, now, most all the time we're steering in and out amongst the pines, and every now and agin you or me has to separate because there ain't room. Hurley's got two hosses – don't ferget that – and he can't so easily separate, 'cos he'd lose a hold of the led hoss. So he has to ride round the narrow places or squeeze through. He squeezes through at times, and what happens? Jest this."

Suddenly Hank drew in his mount at just such a spot as he was mentioning, where the trees were grouped in a thick cluster, and the track led between two of them, both on the high road to become giants. Hank leaned from his saddle and pointed to a spot on one of the trees about the height of his stirrup iron.

"Hurley barged through that 'ere place," he said, "and, so as his leg shouldn't get jammed, he pushed his foot out and rid the hosses as much to the other side as he could. Wall, his thick, hob-nailed toe came agin this tree and chipped the bark. I've seen a dozen similar places."

Joe regarded the spot closely. It was evident, now that the fact was pointed out to him, that Hurley's toe had been responsible for the injury.

"Wall?" demanded Hank. "See?"

"The place he's left? Yes," assented Joe; "but – "

"Jest so – wants larnin'," asserted Hank dryly. "Now, see here. This aer a deepish cut, and a jagged one. It's bleeding; there's gum oozing from the place, and it aer fresh and sticky. That shows as the wound was done not so long ago. Ef it was last night, then the gum would have balled down below, while the surface of the wound would hardly be sticky, but gettin' dry. Now, how do I know as Mike or his Injuns ain't done it passing along?"

"Because the gum has balled to a certain extent already, while I see it oozes very slowly from the wound."

"Good fer you," cried Hank, evidently pleased with his pupil. "That's a fust lesson. That there gum ha' balled jest a little, as you've said, and there's some of it still oozing. Wall, now, it stands to reason that a man don't go riding around in a wood like this when it's dark, fer he'd get knocking his ugly head agin the branches. So he either lies down and sleeps, or dismounts and leads the hoss. This war done by a mounted man, and sense it ain't been light more'n three hours, and Hurley couldn't ride during the dark, why, there's my question answered. Even ef we hadn't seen the place where he camped, this here wound in the pine would ha' told us all the story. Jest you put that in yer mouth and chew it."

Joe did with a vengeance. The two rode on side by side for three hours, hardly exchanging another syllable; but all the while our hero was observing. If he had imagined previously that he was a fairly lively individual, quite wideawake and aware of his surroundings, he was beginning to discover, particularly in the company of this sharp little Hank, that he was by no means a marvel.

"See whar Hurley stopped fer a bite?" asked Hank one time, as they pressed along across a more open part of the forest. "You didn't? Wall, jest ride back a pace and take another squint. It aer fairly talking to yer."

They returned some twenty paces, and Joe looked about him eagerly. But not a sign did he see to convince him that Hurley had pulled up and eaten. Hank grinned, one of those irritating and superior grins. His dried-up face became seamed with subdued merriment, while Joe went the colour of a geranium; and then, when in the depths of despair, he of a sudden made a discovery. "Ah!" he gasped.

"Jest so," said Hank encouragingly.

"He hitched his reins over a branch, and the horse jerked his head and pulled the limb off the tree. There it is. There's the place where it broke, and, by jingo! there's gum below, slightly balled already. Besides, there's a piece of paper a little to the side. Probably it contained the food he was eating, while underfoot there are horses' hoofs in all sorts of positions."

Hank grinned the grin of a man who is elated. "That 'ere Mike'll have to look to hisself, and so will the Injuns," he said. "Soon we'll have you leading this here party. But you have got the hang of the thing now, lad. Never get tired of looking about you. There's tales to be read in most every spot. P'raps it's a bear that's passed. Then you'd see a footmark same almost as ef it was a barefooted human. Or you may drop on the splayed-out markings of a moose. That's the thing to fire the blood of a hunter. Maybe there's not a sign, but only trees and rocks and stones that seems to tell nothing; but there's always something to be learned. A wolf has had his quarters here, fer there's a hollow, and there's bones in heaps all round. Or there's been a prospecting party through the place, fer there's stumps that has been cut with an axe, and not broke off rough as ef the wind had done it. Tracking aer a game that don't tire, never! It's a thing that a man aer best at ef he's been born to it; but it can be learned, same as farming. You ain't too old to start, not by a long way."

Not till the sun was directly overhead did the little band come to a halt, and then only to allow them to eat a little, while girths were loosened to give the horses every chance of resting.

"Steady and sure does it," said Mike, as he smoked his pipe and leaned against one of the trees. "Of course, we've got to push the pace whenever we're able, and I reckon we've been doing that all along. Anyway, we've made up some of the distance, for single horsemen can get along through these trees quicker than a chap who's got one to lead. It's when he gets to open country that he'll make the most of the hosses; for he'll be able to change over, and that means a heap, don't it, Hank?"

"A heap," answered that individual jerkily. "But he has to sleep, Mike. That's where we'll have him."

"Eh? How's that? I ain't followed."

"Jest like this. He's fresh now we'll 'low, and ef he's able he'll push on all through the night. To-morrow he'll still be going; but when night falls he'll be wanting a rest, and so, you may say, shall we be. Now, ef half this outfit pushes on, Hurley has to move ahead, and it'll be slow travelling. Our chaps'll go afoot, so as to rest the hosses. At dawn the rest of us rides along the trace after 'em, and can cover the ground mighty quick in comparison, seeing that it's daylight. Wall, we leave half the hosses with the fust party, who're resting, and push ahead. Our chums gets a four-hour sleep and comes along after. Both of us is fresh that night, while Hurley can't hardly keep his eyes open. It aer as clear as daylight."

The little man shut up like an oyster. He drew a pipe as diminutive as himself from an inner pocket, crammed it with tobacco while his eyes rested dreamily on the forest, and then struck flint and steel with such unerring skill that he soon had the weed smouldering.

"It aer as clear as daylight," he puffed at the company. "Ef things goes in the ordinary way, Hurley'll be taken just when I've hinted, and he'll be in jail come the week-end."

"And supposin' they don't go along in the ordinary course?" asked Mike, who, from his experience, thought highly of the taciturn Hank. "It ain't of much use to set out follerin' a criminal and expecting him to do jest as you want him to. You've got to make allowance fer all sorts of strange turns. He's making north; he might fall in with some wandering Indians, or a prospecting gang, and get off along with them because of their help."

"Yep!" answered the usually silent Hank, with accustomed brevity. "Guess he might. Even so, we ain't done with him. This outfit's out to catch a ruffian who wants catching badly."

"You bet!" agreed Peter, with a quick shake of his head.

"A brute who's been and murdered his wife," cried Jim, his face flushing.

"The sort of bully whose capture we must make our duty," declared Jack Bailey, not the least enthusiastic of the party.

"Yep!" responded Hank. "So it comes to this, Mike. Supposin' he does do something we can't yet guess at, why, where's the odds? We still goes on after him. And sooner or later, barrin' regular bad luck, we'll have him. That's what I'm out fer. Guess it's the same with you and the other partners."

All that afternoon they pushed on through the forest, sometimes pressing their way through closely-grown pine trees, and then through thick masses of maple, of spruce, of birch, or of the scarlet sumac. At times streams cut across their path – for Canada is a well-watered country for the most part – and more than once had to skirt the edge of great lakes. But always Fox and Bill went ahead without hesitation. Not once had they met with a break in the trail. Their ferrety eyes hardly seemed ever to look to the ground. It seemed, indeed, as if they followed the trail of the murderer by intuition alone. When night came pine stumps were set fire to and the chase continued.

"You kin say as we're making even way with him," said Hank, who still rode with our hero. "He's got to find his way amongst the trees, and he's walking, I guess. Wall, so are we. But we've pine knots to light us, and kin follow the trace easy. It's to-morrow night that'll be the teaser."

The early morning found the devoted little band emerging into a stretch of open country. But there were trees again in the distance, and always the tracks left by the fugitive went due north.

"A child could follow all the way," declared Hank, as they went on at a steady walk, sometimes trotting to change the monotony. "This here's grass country, and no man can ride through it at this season without leaving a trail. I wonder he ain't tried some tricks to throw us off, sich as droppin' into a stream and riding down along the bed; but he ain't, and it begins to look as ef he knew there was someone after him and was feelin' hustled. All the same, he's 'way ahead; you can't get a glimpse of him across the open."

Halting for meals, and to give the horses a rest, the band had reached wooded country again that evening, and about eight o'clock came to a halt.

"Here's where we camp," said Mike. "Now we'll divide up. Some of us has a feed and a smoke, and then goes on ahead on foot; t'others has a sleep along of the hosses, and then rides on at the first streak of dawn. Who's going on?"

It took but a little while to settle this point, and since it was agreed to by all that young fellows like Joe and Tom needed sleep more than did older men, and, moreover, had harder work to do without it, these two remained in the camp, Hank and Peter staying with them. Fox and Bill, with a curt grunt, assented to the fact that they should proceed at once. Mike, of course, was one of the forward party, while George and Jack Bailey and Jim completed its numbers.

"Reckon you ain't got no great need to hurry," said Hank, when the meal was finished and pipes had been lighted, while a tin pannikin was being passed round with an allowance of whisky for all who cared for it. "Guess Hurley'll think we won't be out to-night, and he'll take things easy. In course he might camp too, when you might drop nicely upon him. Jest hold yerselves in, for it's little sleep you'll get till we have him."

About an hour later the little band selected to move on in advance left the camp in Indian file, Fox leading, with Bill immediately behind him. They left their horses with their comrades, so as to give them a good rest.

"Yer see," explained Hank, "hosses is queer cusses. They kin stand a deal of gruelling work ef they're fed right, and most of these here is corn fed. But you can't drive 'em too hard. There's no other animal that breaks his heart sooner, and that's a fact. They're that game, they'll keep on till they're ready to drop. Therefore, you've got to save 'em, particularly seein' as Hurley has got two to our one, and so kin rest 'em in turn. Now the sooner we get stretched out the better."

There being no need to set a watch, all who were remaining in camp at once wrapped themselves in their blankets and threw themselves upon the beds already prepared – consisting of the leafy tips of small spruce trees, than which nothing can make a more comfortable couch – and, needless to say, their eyes closed almost at once, for they were weary after their travels, and they slept till the first streak of dawn awakened Hank.

"Up you gets, one and all," he sang out. "Jest give them hosses a mouthful of water, and then we'll ride. Time we come along with the others we'll feed, and then away agin."

That was Joe's first experience of working on an empty stomach, and truth compels us to add that he found the experience a trying one. He felt hollow and sickly. The sharp morning air made him ravenous; he simply longed for the hour for breakfast.

"Guess you do feel holler," laughed Hank, when our hero told him of his feelings. "I mind the time when I was jest a slip of a lad and felt jest as you do. But I was away huntin' with my father then, for he made a tidy pile of dollars by gettin' skins and selling 'em in Montreal, and sometimes over the border in America. Wall, he were a hot 'un. He never seemed to want to eat, only when he was set down to it – gee! – he could put away double as much as the average man. It was then that I used to get that sinking sensation. We'd be out at daylight winter mornings, with the thermometer 'way down below zero, and the air that crisp it made you jest long for a bite. And I've been two days and more without a trace of food. That's mighty hard, you'll believe me. Howsomever, you stick it out this time. You'll soon get used to waitin'."

However, when three hours had passed, during which the party had made very rapid progress through a country thinly covered with trees, the famishing feeling with which Joe had been assailed had worn off to a considerable degree.

"Feel as though I could go along comfortably all day without food," he told Hank. "I'm not nearly so hungry."

"You jest wait till you smell a steak cookin'," came the laughing rejoinder. "Gee! Won't yer mouth water jest! But we're mighty near them folks now. Seems to me as ef I could smell a fire burnin'."

A mile farther along they came upon their comrades camped in a little clearing. Mike at once came towards them.

"He was camped sure enough last night," he said; "but Hurley's a smart 'un. He heard us comin', and streaked straight off; but he ain't far. We've picked up a heap of lost way, and to-night we'll nab him. You ain't fed?"

"None," answered Hank, dropping from his horse. "These here lads is fairly shoutin' fer food."

They made a cheerful party round the fire, and Joe sniffed expectantly as George skewered some steaks and set them to frizzle over the blaze. And oh, the enchantment of that open-air meal and this camping life! Joe revelled in it. Never had he tasted such juicy and succulent meat. Never before had steaming tea seemed so very entrancing. And think of the future! The excitement of this chase had grown upon him. In a measure he was sorry for Hurley; but then he was a brutal murderer, and such people must not expect anything but strict justice.