Nor was Aldous blind to the fact that he had made an utter fool of himself, and that the consequences of his indiscretion might prove extremely serious.  Had he listened to the conspirators without betraying himself he would have possessed an important advantage over them.  The knowledge he had gained from overhearing their conversation would have made it comparatively easy for MacDonald and him to strike them a perhaps fatal blow through the half-breed DeBar.  As the situation stood now, he figured that Quade and Culver Rann held the advantage.  Whatever they had planned to do they would put into quick execution.  They would not lose a minute.

It was not for himself that Aldous feared.  Neither did he fear for Joanne.  Every drop of red fighting blood in him was ready for further action, and he was determined that Quade should find no opportunity of accomplishing any scheme he might have against Joanne’s person.  On the other hand, unless they could head off DeBar, he believed that Culver Rann’s chances of reaching the gold ahead of them would grow better with the passing of each hour.  To protect Joanne from Quade he must lose no time.  MacDonald would be in the same predicament, while Rann, assisted by as many rascals of his own colour as he chose to take with him, would be free to carry out the other part of the conspirators’ plans.

The longer he thought of the mess he had stirred up the more roundly Aldous cursed his imprudence.  And this mess, as he viewed it in these cooler moments, was even less disturbing than the thought of what might have happened had he succeeded in his intention of killing both Quade and Rann.  Twenty times as he made his way through the darkness toward MacDonald’s camp he told himself that he must have been mad.  To have killed Rann or Quade in self-defence, or in open fight, would have been playing the game with a shadow of mountain law behind it.  But he had invaded Rann’s home.  Had he killed them he would have had but little more excuse than a house-breaker or a suspicious husband might have had.  Tete Jaune would not countenance cold-blooded shooting, even of criminals.  He should have taken old Donald’s advice and waited until they were in the mountains.  An unpleasant chill ran through him as he thought of the narrowness of his double escape.

To his surprise, John Aldous found MacDonald awake when he arrived at the camp in the thickly timbered coulee.  He was preparing a midnight cup of coffee over a fire that was burning cheerfully between two big rocks.  Purposely Aldous stepped out into the full illumination of it.  The old hunter looked up.  For a moment he stared into the blood-smeared face of his friend; then he sprang to his feet, and caught him by the arm.

“Yes, I got it,” nodded Aldous cheerfully.  “I went out for it, Mac, and I got it!  Get out your emergency kit, will you?  I rather fancy I need a little patching up.”