CHAPTER X
THE PRISONER
The fire did not cross the Stewart, and after running down a few miles Connie beached the scow at the point where the officers had camped and left a cache before separating to take their respective routes to the head-waters of the Gravel.
"You followed him?" asked the woman, when they had got a light shelter tent up.
Connie nodded. "Yes'm. I hated to, on account of you and the kids, but—duty is duty. I'm sorry he is mixed up in it. Whisky running is dirty. I'm sorry for you, and them," he pointed to the children, who were industriously panning gravel in an empty bean tin. Again he surprised the peculiar look in the woman's eyes, but instantly it was gone.
"But you didn't catch him!" she cried.
"No'm. I didn't. But, the others will. There are five of us, and we each took a different route."
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