"Not do mount here," he said. "P'raps bullet hit us. But creep away down there till we reach trees. Leave one here to fire now and again; then, when all ready, jump on the sleigh and get away behind cover."

He held out an attenuated hand, the fingers of which were as fine as any lady's, and pointed to a patch of trees springing from the side of the hollow a hundred or more yards away. The gesture and his words were sufficient explanation of his meaning. If the sleigh were taken there without its human load, and the feat could be accomplished without Hurley seeing, then all could mount and start away before the murderer had become aware of their intentions.

"It aer a cute move, and we'll work it," said Hank instantly. "Now, Joe, which of us'll stay; you or me?"

"My place," came the ready answer. "I suggested going, therefore I do the work which will help us to fool Hurley. I'll give him a shot now and again."

Hank at once slid down into the hollow and joined Beaver Jack. Joe watched them as they sprawled on their faces, first placing their weapons on the sleigh; then he saw them slowly move away, the Redskin beside his team, crawling on all-fours, talking to the dogs and keeping them well under cover.

Crack! crack! Zip! zip! Two bullets swished overhead, the crisp sounds they made proving that they had been aimed at Joe and not at his comrades. At once he bobbed up, aimed for the place where he knew Hurley was in hiding, and fired; but he saw nothing of the enemy. This was a duel waged between contestants who kept beneath cover, and hoped only for a lucky chance to hit an enemy. Joe waited again, and once more the exchange of shots was repeated. Then he turned his head, to find that Hank and Beaver Jack had reached the trees and were waiting for him.

"I'll give 'em one more," he told himself, raising his rifle, "and then join the others. Hallo! What's this? One of Beaver Jack's pelts.

Suit my purpose admirably."

Two shots rang out again in the distance, and Joe's followed swiftly.

Then he placed the dark-coloured skin on the top of the bank, and within sight of the enemy, and at once sprawled on hands and knees and crawled along the hollow. He accomplished the distance to the rat-a-tat-tat of rifle shots, for Hurley and his comrade had found a mark to aim at. Then he took his place on the sleigh, on which Hank and Beaver Jack were already seated, and which they had hauled in behind the cover of the trees.

"Best get into position and comfortably settled afore we set out," said the little hunter. "Gee! What a racket they're making! They ain't spotted this business, I hope?"

"Shooting at one of Beaver Jack's pelts," said Joe dryly. "He left it behind. I thought he'd be able to spare it."

"My, you'll do!" exclaimed Hank, laughing outright. "I've known young chaps as could fight all right, but who were always mighty serious when bullets war flying, and couldn't think of things like that. You'll do, Joe. You aer got a sense of humour. Now, Beaver Jack, you get in at it, and don't drive 'em too fast after the fust bust of speed. We aer got to draw that Hurley cuss close up to us."

Shouts of anger and disappointment greeted the party as they swung out from behind the cover and into the open. Shots were fired in their direction also. But Beaver Jack was a master of stratagem; he kept the patch of cover that had already helped them so much between the sleigh and the enemy, and Hurley, seeing that the men he desired to kill were rapidly increasing their distance, rushed for his own sleigh, leaped aboard, and bellowed to his driver to set the team in motion; and, thanks to the lighter weight the pursuing sleigh bore, and in no small degree to Beaver Jack's skill and cunning, Hurley slowly gained upon the three men flying before him. He leaned upon his elbow, for he had again adopted the position which Hank had first shown him, and, taking a long and careful aim, sent a bullet flying after them.

"Time we stopped!" cried Joe abruptly, gripping his elbow, for the missile had struck him. Not that it was a severe wound--on the contrary, it was little more than a graze--but even that causes pain and rouses a man to exertion. Joe was determined to put up no longer with Hurley's attempts upon his life and upon those of his comrades.

"Let's stop this business right here and now," he cried hotly.

"There's a long patch of wood ahead; let's fix to pull in the team there."

"Good fer you, lad!" answered Hank. "Beaver Jack, you aer heard the order? Now, Joe lad, listen to this. I has fust shot; ef I miss, you're welcome to try; only I somehow feel as ef this war my special business. Here we are; now fer it."

Beaver Jack brought the team to a halt in masterly manner, while Joe and the hunter rolled off the sleigh. Then Hank took post close to the edge of the wood and just in the open.

"I ain't the one to fire at a man without giving him a chance," he said. "Ah! he's seen us; he's stopped. That was a near 'un!"

There was a heavy thud as Hurley's bullet struck the tree beside the hunter. Then up went Hank's weapon. He took a rapid sight, and then flung down his rifle almost before the report had come to Joe's ears, while the latter watched for the result of the shot with more than a little anxiety. A little time before he would perhaps have wished Hurley to escape injury, for Joe possessed a soft and forgiving heart.

Now, however, he had a different opinion as to his merits. It was, therefore, with no great amount of sorrow that he saw the ruffian suddenly throw up his arms and tumble over.

"Wiped out clean," growled Hank. "Dead as a trapped beaver."

There could be no doubt that that was the end of the murderer. Hank's bullet had, in fact, killed Hurley instantaneously, and had thereby provided a fitting punishment for the detestable crime he had committed. As for Hurley's companion, the half-breed leaped on to the sleigh which, like his master, he had abandoned for the moment, and sending his whip cracking over the dogs, turned them in the opposite direction and raced away for safety.

"Not as he's got anything to fear from me," said Hank; "I aer done what I promised. And now, young chap, guess there are something more for us to look into--there aer that letter."

It was uppermost in his mind as in our hero's, and it is not to be wondered at that they boarded their sleigh and swung their team back towards the dark figure lying p.r.o.ne in the snow behind them. But would Hurley have the doc.u.ment still? Had he destroyed it? In fact, had he ever had it, or was it possible that both Hank and Joe had conjured up a conspiracy which had never existed? Supposing Hurley had merely fallen upon their trace by accident, and then, learning that two of the men who had previously helped to hound him down were of the party, had endeavoured to slay them?

Those were the fears and the questions which raced through their minds as Beaver Jack sent the dogs straining across the snow towards the body of their enemy. They found him lying face downwards, a crimson stain spoiling the beautiful white of Nature's own making.

"Search him," said Joe, turning his head away from such a gruesome sight. "Search him, then let us go."

"Got it! Huh! I said so, didn't I?"

Hank's face was radiant. He held aloft a long envelope, stained with much handling, and then, having run through all of Hurley's pockets, he dragged the doc.u.ment from the envelope and coolly perused it. Joe himself had now no qualms as to reading it also.

"You are on the high road to 'making good'," said Hank. "There ain't no reason now in waiting longer. Read! It aer as clear as daylight that Hurley had made up his mind to wipe you out and then to make for England with the idea of pa.s.sing himself off as your father."

When they were able to gather all the details, this, indeed, proved to be the crux of the whole conspiracy, and the death of Hurley had alone put an end to it. It is not for us to raise doubts here as to his prospects. Doubtless there was many a slip which he might have made, for criminals are ever careless; but matters were decidedly in his favour. That receipt, still within the envelope, would obtain for him all the proofs of Mr. Bradley's birth and life and parentage. The signature, doubtless, he would learn to copy, while the very fact of Joe's father having kept so much to himself would have made Hurley's non-recognition at the Bradleys' old home of no moment. The weak point, however, arrived when he expected residents in the little provincial town where Joe had spent his early existence to recognize in Hurley the cycle maker who they knew had died quite lately.

"He'd have been had there," said Joe thoughtfully, "unless, of course, he had declared that he never lived in England after he was twenty years of age. Ah! that was his game; he had become a colonist. No doubt he could have imported some scoundrel to swear to the fact that Hurley was not known as Hurley at all, but as Bradley. However, there's an end to the matter. Wonder what this uncle of mine's like?

Don't feel over-keen on writing to him."

Circ.u.mstances saved Joe that necessity, for no sooner had he sent information to the London solicitors who held the proofs which his father had deposited, than he learned that his uncle was dead. He had, in fact, survived Mr. Bradley but a few months. Thus Joe was the heir to the property.

"Let it go hang for the time being," he said, when he and Hank and the Fennicks were discussing the matter together; for the trio had safely returned to the settlement at the head of the valley in New Ontario.

"I've something far more interesting here, I can a.s.sure you."

He said that with truth, too, for never was there a more fascinating business than Sam Fennick had created. That spring, in fact, more than twenty families joined him, shacks were run up rapidly by the corporation into which they formed themselves, while machinery was already arriving. Soon the workers were divided into parties, each with their tasks a.s.signed, and by seeding time not only had every family a good roof over its head, but an extraordinary amount of ground had been broken.

There is little to add with regard to our hero. That winter which followed he ran over to England, and then, having placed his affairs in the hands of lawyers, and having let the property to which he had proved his t.i.tle, he returned to join his comrades. Up at the end of that valley Peter Strike, and Hank, and many another are now located.

A railway draws its steel lines through the heart of the settlement, while a school is already building. That is the way with Canada, red tape has scarcely an existence; it is merely a bad memory imported from the old country. Yes, there is a school building, while the telephone is fitted to houses rapidly replacing the rough shacks. But that is not all. Electric light is generated by water power at the foot of the lake, while there is a lumber mill down south, and logs pay handsomely.

Motors buzz, too, out on the fields, and acres of soil are ripped open and ploughed in as many hours as days were taken formerly with horse tackle. Joe himself is rather proud of the potatoes he grows on his holding, while he has hopes some day of beating all at the annual fruit show in Toronto. You may ask with reason, perhaps, whether he ever pines for London or a city. No, emphatically no! Joe is an open-air man, a jovial, hard-working, contented fellow, who loves the wilds of the Dominion, and who now and again sneaks off into the backwoods with his old chum Hank. But business is his main consideration. His purchases close to Peter Strike's old settlement have increased enormously in value, while elsewhere he is making money.

"Not as it matters much to a chap same as you," said Hank one night, for he and Joe lived together; "you're rich without these here acres.

But guess it's not the dollars you're after; it's makin' good, eh, Joe?

Making good 'lows a man to be proud of hisself, and, jingo, it aer worth doing!"