The Grand Forks constable had put a watch on the big tent, despatched a man to inform the Dawson Chief of Police, and set himself to learn the details of the quarrel.  Meanwhile the utter absence of life in the guarded tent roused suspicion.  It was recalled now that since the Indians had left a little while after the Colonel was carried home, sixteen hours ago, no one had seen either of the Southerners.  The constable, taking alarm at this, left the crowd at Scowl Austin’s, and went hurriedly across the meadow to the new centre of interest.  Just as he reached the tent the flap was turned back, and Maudie put her head out.

“Hah!” said the constable, with some relief, “they both in there?”

“The Colonel is.”

Now, it was the Colonel he had wanted till he heard he was there.  As the woman came out he looked in to make certain.  Yes, there he was, calmly sleeping, with the gray blanket of the screen thrown up for air.  It didn’t look much like——­

“Where’s the other feller?”

“Gone to Dawson.”

“With that lame leg?”

“Went on horseback.”

It had as grand a sound as it would have in the States to say a man had departed in a glass coach drawn by six cream-coloured horses.  But he had been “in a hell of a hurry,” evidently.  Men were exchanging glances.

“Funny nobody saw him.”

“When’d he light out?”

“About five this morning.”

Oh, that explained it.  The people who were up at five were abed now.  And the group round the tent whispered that Austin had done the unheard of—­had gone off and left the night gang at three o’clock in the morning.  They had said so as the day shift turned out.

“But how’d the young feller get such a thing as a horse?”

“Hired it off a stranger out from Dawson yesterday,” Maudie answered shortly.

“Oh, that Frenchman—­Count—­a—­Whirligig?”

But Maudie was tired of giving information and getting none.  The answer came from one in the group.

“Yes, that French feller came in with a couple o’ fusst-class horses.  He’s camped away over there beyond Muskeeter.”  He pointed down Bonanza.

“P’raps you won’t mind just mentionin’,” said Maudie with growing irritation, “why you’re makin’ yourself so busy about my friends?” (Only strong resentment could have induced the plural.)

When she heard what had happened and what was suspected she uttered a contemptuous “Tschah!” and made for the tent.  The constable followed.  She wheeled fiercely round.

“The man in there hasn’t been out o’ this tent since he was carried up from the creek last night.  I can swear to it.”

“Can you swear the other was here all the time?”

No answer.

“Did he say what he went to Dawson for?”

“The doctor.”

One or two laughed.  “Who’s sick enough to send for a Dawson doctor?”

“So you think he’s gone for a——­”