but sat, his head sunk forward, watching the men's faces from his
cavernous eyes.

"You have been called for especial duty," began MacDonald, shortly. "It
is volunteer duty, and you need not go unless you want to. We have
called you because you have the reputation of never having failed. That
is not much for you, Herron, because you are young. Still we believe in
you. But you, Bolton, are an old hand on the Trail, and it means a good
deal."

Galen Albret stirred. MacDonald shot a glance in his direction and
hastened on.

"I am going to tell you what we want. If you don't care to tackle the
job, you must know nothing about it. That is distinctly understood?"

He hitched forward nearer the light, scanning the men carefully. They
nodded.

"Sure!" added Herron.

"That's all right. Do you men remember Jingoss, the Ojibway, who
outfitted here a year ago last summer?"

"Him they calls th' Weasel?" inquired Sam Bolton.

"That's the one. Do you remember him well? how he looks?"

"Yes," nodded Sam and Dick Herron together.