They could never
find his body--and they will send down for a new engineer in place of
the lost M'seur."
Stupefied with horror, Howland strained his ears to catch the rest of
the cold-blooded scheme which he was overhearing, but the voices grew
lower and he understood no more that was said until Croisset, coming
nearer, called out:
"Help me with the M'seur before you go, Jackpine. He is a dead weight
with all those rawhides about him."
As coolly as though he were not more than a chunk of stovewood,
Croisset and the Indian came through the bushes, seized him by the head
and feet, carried him out into the trail and laid him lengthwise on
the sledge.
"I hope you have not caught cold lying in the snow, M'seur," said
Croisset, bolstering up the engineer's head and shoulders and covering
him with heavy furs. "We should have been back sooner, but it was
impossible. Hoo-la, Woonga!" he called softly to his lead-dog. "Get up
there, you wolf-hound!"
As the sledge started, with Croisset running close to the leader,
Howland heard the low snapping of a whip behind him and another voice
urging on other dogs. With an effort that almost dislocated his neck he
twisted himself so he could look back of him.
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