Slowly he unwound his long legs and rose to his feet.
"Take my advice--move!" he said. "As for me, I'm going to cross that cussed
river this afternoon or know the reason why."
He stalked away in the direction of his outfit, chewing viciously at his
quid. For a few moments Aldous stood undecided. He would liked to have
joined the half-dozen men he saw lounging restfully a distance beyond the
grazing ponies. But Stevens had made him acutely aware of a new danger. He
was thinking of his cabin--and the priceless achievement of his last months
of work, his manuscript. If Quade should destroy that----
He clenched his hands and walked swiftly toward his camp. To "burn out" an
enemy was one of Quade's favourite methods of retaliation. He had heard
this. He also knew that Quade's work was done so cleverly that the police
had been unable to call him to account.
Quade's status had interested Aldous from the beginning. He had discovered
that Quade and Culver Rann, his partner at Tete Jaune, were forces to be
reckoned with even by the "powers" along the line of rail. They were the
two chiefs of the "underground," the men who controlled the most dangerous
element from Miette to Fort George.
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