"We've got to have that Indian."

"Where is he?" asked Herron. Sam Bolton remained silent.

"That is for you to find out." MacDonald then went on to explain
himself, hitching his chair still nearer, and lowering his voice. "A
year ago last summer," said he, "he got his 'debt' at the store of two
hundred castors[1] which he was to pay off in pelts the following
spring. He never came back. I don't think he intends to. The example is
bad. It has never happened to us before. Too many Indians get credit at
this Post. If this man is allowed to go unpunished, we'll be due for all
sorts of trouble with our other creditors. Not only he, but all the rest
of them, must be made to feel that an embezzler is going to be caught,
every time. They all know he's stolen that debt, and they're waiting to
see what we're going to do about it. I tell you this so you'll know that
it's important."

[Footnote 1: One hundred dollars.]

"You want us to catch him?" said Bolton, more as a comment than an
inquiry.

"Catch him, and catch him alive!" corrected MacDonald. "There must be no
shooting. We've got to punish him in a way that will make him an
example. We've got to allow our Indians 'debt' in order to keep them. If
we run too great a risk of loss, we cannot do it. That is a grave
problem. In case of success you shall have double pay for the time you
are gone, and be raised two ranks in the service. Will you do it?"

Sam Bolton passed his emaciated, gnarled hand gropingly across his