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When no news is good news

The same thought was in their eyes again. And again neither gavevoice to it. Carefully Jane was gathering up the strands ofhair, winding them about his forefinger, and placing themafterward in a leather wallet which he took from his pocket. Then,quite casually, he loaded his pipe and lighted it. He went to thedoor, opened it, and for a few moments stood listening to thescreech of the wind over the Barren. Tim, still seated at thetable, watched him attentively. Philip’s mind was made up when heclosed the door and faced the half-breed again. “It is three hundred miles from here to Fort Churchill,” he said.“Half way, at the lower end of Jesuche Lake, MacVeigh and hispatrol have made their headquarters. If I go after Bram, Pierre, Imust first make certain of getting a message to MacVeigh, and hewill see that it gets to Fort Churchill. Can you leave your foxesand poison-baits and your deadfalls long enough for that?” A moment Pierre hesitated. Until late that night Philip sat up writing his report. He hadstarted out to run down a band of Indian thieves. More importantbusiness had crossed his trail, and he explained the whole matterto Superintendent Fitzgerald, commanding “M” Division at FortChurchill. He told Proxyvon story as he had heard it. Hegave his reasons for believing it, and that Bram Johnson, threetimes a murderer, was alive. He asked that another man be sentafter the Indians, and explained, as nearly as he could, thedirection he would take in his pursuit of Bram. When the report was finished and sealed he had omitted just onething. Not a word had he written about the rabbit snare woven from awoman’s hair.

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