Angus clamped a heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder.  His blue eyes searched steadily those of the trader.

“I’ll not let her twenty yards from me any time.  That’s a promise, McRae,” the trader said quietly.

Well wrapped from the wind, Onistah sat in the cariole.

Jessie kissed the Scotchman fondly, laughing at him the while.  “You’re a goose, Father.  I’m all right.  You take good care of yourself.  That West might come back here.”

“No chance of that.  West will never come back except at the end of a rope.  He’s headed for the edge of the Barrens, or up that way somewhere,” Beresford said.  “And inside of a week I’ll be north-bound on his trail myself.”

Jessie was startled, a good deal distressed.  “I’d let him go.  He’ll meet a bad end somewhere.  If he never comes back, as you say he won’t, then he’ll not trouble us.”

The soldier smiled grimly.  “That’s not the way of the Mounted.  Get the fellow you’re sent after.  That’s our motto.  I’ve been assigned the job of bringing in West and I’ve got to get him.”

“You don’t mean you’re going up there alone to bring back that—­that wolf-man?”

“Oh, no,” the trooper answered lightly.  “I’ll have a Cree along as a guide.”

“A Cree,” she scoffed.  “What good will he be if you find West?  He’ll not help you against him at all.”

“Not what he’s with me for.  I’m not supposed to need any help to bring back one man.”

“It’s—­it’s just suicide to go after him alone,” she persisted.  “Look what he did to the guard at the prison, to Mr. Whaley, to Onistah!  He’s just awful—­hardly human.”

“The lad’s under orders, lass,” McRae told her.  “Gin they send him into the North after West, he’ll just have to go.  He canna argy-bargy aboot it.”

Jessie gave up, reluctantly.

The little cavalcade started.  Morse drove.  The girl brought up the rear.

Her mind was still on the hazard of the journey Beresford must take.  When Morse stopped to rest the dogs for a few moments, she tucked up Onistah again and recurred to the subject.

“I don’t think Win Beresford should go after West alone except for a Cree guide.  The Inspector ought to send another constable with him.  Or two more.  If he knew that man—­how cruel and savage he is—­”

Tom Morse spoke quietly.  “He’s not going alone.  I’ll be with him.”

She stared.  “You?”

“Yes.  Sworn in as a deputy constable.”

“But—­he didn’t say you were going when I spoke to him about it a little while ago.”

“He didn’t know.  I’ve made up my mind since.”

In point of fact he had come to a decision three seconds before he announced it.

Her soft eyes applauded him.  “That’ll be fine.  His friends won’t worry so much if you’re with him.  But—­of course you know it’ll be a horrible trip—­and dangerous.”

“No picnic,” he admitted.