“‘I thought the Mounted Police always got their man,’ he said. “‘They do—finally—but sometimes a Mounted Police has had to pay the price,’ I said, keeping my eyes on his. “‘Of course,’ he said, without a quiver of a lid, ‘they do their duty.’ “I tell you, old man, from that minute I felt sure we would make it or both be feeding the wolves. Then I sprung my plan on him. “‘Paul,’ I said, ‘I’m going to swear you in as a special constable.’ “‘Can you?’ he said. “‘I have the authority. Are you willing?’ “‘For this trip?’ he asked. ‘Yes, I am willing.’ “I swore him in, told him my plan. ‘Here’s a gun,’ I said, offering him one of mine. “‘Have one—my father’s.’ “‘Can you shoot?’ “He gave me a jolt then. He looked about, saw a squirrel chattering and whisking on a scrub pine, his hand flashed from his pocket—bang! bang!—and the squirrel dropped, with two holes through its body. “‘Dad showed me, and I’ve been practising a bit in the north for the last five years.’ I just gulped. “‘You’ll handle him,’ I said. “‘Who?’ “‘Guerrin!’ “‘Never killed a man—don’t want to—couldn’t!’ “‘Rather he’d kill you? or me?’ “He looked at me doubtfully. ‘I don’t want to kill him. I couldn’t kill him.’ “‘All right, let him kill me.’ “No, I think I could stop him,’ he said. Not very satisfactory, but it was the best I could get out of him. “We took watch about. But Guerrin fooled me properly. I don’t deserve to be alive. After fifteen years in the force, handling bad men of all kinds! That devil played ’possum, dragged back, growing weaker and weaker, couldn’t eat, staggered on march like a drunken man, and at the end of the first day fell down and lay like a log. Begad, I thought I’d never get him in. The whole weight fell on Paul, trail breaking, packing, mushing. Two nights out from the Fort, Guerrin staggered into camp, fell down and refused to move. We made him comfortable before the fire, fed him soup and stuff. Paul was pretty well in that night, and didn’t tie up my prisoner. I took the first watch myself, hadn’t had much sleep so fell off. Don’t know what it was—one of the dogs, I think, gave a snort in his sleep—I opened my eyes, and, by Jove! six feet away was Guerrin, knife in hand, on the crouch for a leap. I gave one yell and flung myself as far as I could to one side. His knife touched a rib and glanced off. Before I could get my gun he was on me, jabbing like all possessed. I managed to grab his knife hand and hold him off. My shout woke Paul, but he seemed dazed for a moment. “‘Shoot!’ I yelled. ‘Shoot, you damned fool!’