"Yeh, that's the trouble. An* what did I say to *em when they done it? I've kidded 'em an' ragged 'em an' made 'em so sore that take it first an' last, I've like to had to fight the whole kit and caboodle of 'em. An' now—" he grunted dismally. "My time's up, come Febrooary, an' I've almost got a notion to lay up here on Hart River 'til then an' not 'list no more."
Connie laughed. "You ain't got nerve enough to do that, Rickey. You've got nerve enough to go back and face 'em, but you ain't got nerve enough to guit!" Whereat Rickey grinned and with his foot wrapped in an enormous thickness of blankets he allowed Connie to ease him onto the sled, where he suffered in grim silence with his back against the bed-rolls, until the outfit drew up be- fore the door of Hart River cabin.
Although it was Connie's first visit to the place, he sensed from the moment he halted the dogs that something was wrong. For the snow was well trampled about the cabin and its door stood slightly ajar. Hastily removing his rackets, he pushed inside, where one swift glance assured him that his worst fears were realized. The Hart River cache had been robbed!
