Chapter XV. The Outlaw

The bitter weather following an autumn of unusual mildness had set in with the New Year and had continued without a break for fifteen days. A heavy fall of snow with a blizzard blowing sixty miles an hour had made the trails almost impassable, indeed quite so to any but to those bent on desperate business or to Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police. To these gallant riders all trails stood open at all seasons of the year, no matter what snow might fall or blizzard blow, so long as duty called them forth.

The trail from the fort to the Big Horn Ranch, however, was so wind-swept that the snow was blown away, which made the going fairly easy, and the Superintendent, Inspector Dickson and Jerry trotted along freely enough in the face of a keen southwester that cut to the bone. It was surely some desperate business indeed that sent them out into the face of that cutting wind which made even these hardy riders, burned hard and dry by scorching suns and biting blizzards, wince and shelter their faces with their gauntleted hands.

"Deuce of a wind, this!" said the Superintendent.

"It is the raw southwester that gets to the bone," replied Inspector Dickson. "This will blow up a chinook before night."

"I wonder if he has got into shelter," said the Superintendent. "This has been an unusually hard fortnight, and I am afraid he went rather light."

"Oh, he's sure to be all right," replied the Inspector quickly. "He was riding, but he took his snowshoes with him for timber work. He's hardly the man to get caught and he won't quit easily."

"No, he won't quit, but there are times when human endurance fails. Not that I fear anything like that for Cameron," added the Superintendent hastily.

"Oh, he's not the man to fall down," replied the Inspector. "He goes the limit, but he keeps his head. He's no reckless fool."

"Well, you ought to know him," said the Superintendent. "You have been through some things together, but this last week has been about the worst that I have known. This fortnight will be remembered in the annals of this country. And it came so unexpectedly. What do you think about it, Jerry?" continued the Superintendent, turning to the half-breed.

"He good man--cold ver' bad--ver' long. S'pose catch heem on plains--ver' bad."

The Inspector touched his horse to a canter. The vision that floated before his mind's eye while the half-breed was speaking he hated to contemplate.

"He's all right. He has come through too many tight places to fail here," said the Inspector in a tone almost of defiance, and refused to talk further upon the subject. But he kept urging the pace till they drew up at the stables of the Big Horn Ranch.

The Inspector's first glance upon opening the stable door swept