At the roadhouse, midway between Coldfoot and Bettles it was reported that Dalzene had stopped for breakfast the previous morning, but had pushed on down the river without resting. Inquiry revealed the fact that the man was driving seven dogs, and that, to the best of the roadhouse proprietor’s knowledge, there had been no other dog riding on the sled. He was very sure that had there been another dog he would have noticed it. After informing the man of the pronouncements of the miner’s meetings, the two pushed on. “He’s sure be’n makin’ good time,” opined the mail carrier, when they were once more upon the trail. “Them dogs of his’n’ll know they be’n somewheres time he gits to where he’s goin’.” Enright nodded, “An’ if I was in his place,” he answered “Twic’t as fast as the best time I could make wouldn’t be no more’n about half as fast as I’d want to be goin’. Mebbe he’s figgerin’ on restin’ his dogs at Bettles.” “Kind of cur’us about him only havin’ seven dogs. You don’t s’pose that there Skookum dog could of got away hisself?” “No,” answered Enright, “He wouldn’t never leave Miss Lou. Him an’ her’s like two pardners. He ain’t never kep’ on a chain or in a corral only except they’re away from home. No, Dalzene’s got him all right, but he ain’t takin’ no chances with him. He knows damn well that dog ain’t a-goin’ to let him handle him without a fight, an’ he ain’t in no shape to waste no time tryin’ him out. He had him all right, prob’ly on his sled tied up an’ covered with a tarp.” “Wisht they was some new snow so we could track him,” ventured the mail carrier. “This trail’s in better shape than I ever seen it, most.” “Yes, but we kin see if he leaves it. He’s got to leave a trail if he branches off--an’ where in hell would he branch to?” The mail carrier shook his head dubiously; “He’s a pretty slick, an’ he knows the country down this way better’n what we do. Git us off’n the river, an’ we don’t know nothin’, but he’s off’n it half the time tradin’ hooch to the Siwashes.” “Slick don’t give him no license to fly. He’s got to leave a trail wherever he hits off the river.” Despite their anxiety to reach Bettles they camped that night on the trail, and it was nearly noon the following day when they drew up before the trading store to find that Dalzene had left the previous morning after having laid in some three hundred pounds of supplies on credit. “You better figger on losin’ that there bill of goods, then,” grinned Enright, “But a sled load of grub ain’t goin’ to bust the Company, nohow.” “What do you mean, Pete? I don’t like Dalzene no more’n you nor no one else does, but he makes big money, an’ he’s good.” “He may be good all right, but he’s goin’ to be a damn sight more good than what he is, soon as one of us up-river men runs acrost him.” “What do you mean?”