stantly North recognised Hugo, the trapper, and unconsciously his numbed right hand groped for his revolver. Hugo, too, recognised the sergeant, and noticing the movement of his hand, he gave a roar of warning.
“Drop that,” he ordered. “Heavens! man, are you crazy? This is no time or place to pull a gun. What could you do against me? I guess you’d better wait. What’s wrong, anyway?”
“I’m all in,” was the reply.
“H’m, you look it,” Hugo growled, as he stepped closer. “All in but your spirit, eh? Man, I like your pluck. Here, take my hand, and I’ll lift you out of that hole.”
In another minute North was standing upon the trail, and then the two men faced each other. The wind swirled the snow in furious gusts about their bodies, at times almost hiding each other from view. North was the first to speak.
“You are my prisoner,” he said. “I order you to surrender.”
Hugo’s only reply was to throw back his head, and emit a roar of laughter.
“Do you think I am joking?” the sergeant sternly asked. “I am on duty, remember, so your best plan is to obey.”
“Surrender! what am I to surrender, man? I’m here, but what are you going to do with me? From all appearances you had better surrender to me, and let me get you out of this. Let us stop this fooling and settle down to business.”
“And you won’t fight?” North asked in surprise.
Hugo reached out, laid a heavy hand upon the sergeant’s shoulder, and shook him.
