"But there is one way you can all help. Keep your
eyes open. If you have seen any suspicious characters around, let me
know. Or if any one has left town in a hurry--or been seen doing
anything during the night that you did not understand at the time. Men
can't do a thing like this without leaving some clue behind them even
though the snow has wiped away their trail."
A man named Fred Tague pushed to the front. He kept a feed corral near
the edge of town. "I can tell you one man who mushed out before five
o'clock this morning--and that's Gid Holt."
The eyes of Macdonald, cold and hard as jade, fastened to the man. "How
do you know?"
"That dog team he bought from Tim Ryan--Well, he's been keeping it in my
corral. When I got there this morning it was gone. The snow hadn't wiped
out the tracks of the runners yet, so he couldn't have left more than
fifteen minutes before."
"What time was it when you reached the corral?"
"Might have been six--maybe a little later."
"You don't know that Holt took the team himself?"
"Come to that, I don't. But he had a key to the barn where the sled was.
Holt has been putting up at the hotel. I reckon it is easy to find out
if he's still there.
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